Dzhon Ronal'd Ruel Tolkien. Hobbit

薰衣草

Chapter I. An Unexpected Party

     In  a hole in the ground there lived a  hobbit. Not a  nasty, dirty, wet
hole, filled  with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare,
sandy  hole  with  nothing  in  it  to sit  down  on  or  to eat: it  was  a
hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
     It had a  perfectly  round  door like a porthole, painted green, with a
shiny  yellow  brass knob  in  the exact  middle. The door  opened  on to  a
tube-shaped hall  like a tunnel: a very comfortable  tunnel  without  smoke,
with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted,  provided  with polished
chairs,  and lots  and lots of pegs for hats and coats - the hobbit was fond
of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight
into the side of the hill - The Hill, as all the people for many miles round
called it - and many little  round doors opened out of it, first on one side
and then on another. No going upstairs for  the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms,
cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes  (he had whole rooms devoted to
clothes), kitchens, dining-rooms, all were on the same floor,  and indeed on
the same  passage. The best rooms were all on the left-hand side (going in),
for these were the only ones to have windows, deep-set round windows looking
over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river.
     This hobbit was a very well-to-do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The
Bagginses had  lived in  the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind,
and  people considered them very respectable, not only because  most of them
were rich, but  also because they never had  any adventures  or did anything
unexpected:  you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without
the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure,
found himself doing and  saying  things  altogether unexpected.  He may have
lost the neighbours' respect, but he gained-well,  you  will see  whether he
gained anything in the end.
     The mother of our particular  hobbit  ... what is a hobbit?  I  suppose
hobbits need some  description nowadays, since they have become rare and shy
of  the Big People,  as  they call us. They  are (or were)  a little people,
about half our height, and smaller than the bearded Dwarves. Hobbits have no
beards. There is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday
sort  which helps them to  disappear quietly  and quickly  when large stupid
folk like you  and me come blundering along,  making a  noise like elephants
which they can hear a mile off. They are inclined to  be at in the  stomach;
they dress  in  bright colours (chiefly green  and yellow); wear  no  shoes,
because their feet grow  natural leathery  soles and  thick  warm brown hair
like  the stuff on  their heads  (which  is  curly); have long  clever brown
fingers, good-natured faces, and laugh deep  fruity laughs (especially after
dinner,  which  they have twice a  day when they can  get it). Now you  know
enough to go on with. As I was saying, the mother of this hobbit -  of Bilbo
Baggins,  that is  -  was  the  fabulous Belladonna Took,  one of  the three
remarkable  daughters of the Old Took, head  of the hobbits who lived across
The Water, the small  river that ran at the foot  of The Hill. It  was often
said (in other families) that long ago one  of the Took  ancestors must have
taken  a fairy  wife. That was,  of course, absurd, but certainly there  was
still  something not entirely hobbit-like  about them, - and once in a while
members  of the  Took-clan would  go  and have  adventures.  They discreetly
disappeared, and  the family hushed  it  up; but the fact  remained that the
Tooks were not as respectable as the Bagginses, though they were undoubtedly
richer. Not that  Belladonna Took ever  had any adventures after she  became
Mrs. Bungo Baggins. Bungo, that was Bilbo's father, built the most luxurious
hobbit-hole for her (and partly  with her money) that was to be found either
under The Hill or over The Hill or across The Water, and there they remained
to the  end of their days.  Still it  is  probable that Bilbo, her only son,
although he looked and  behaved exactly like a  second edition of  his solid
and  comfortable father, got  something a bit queer in  his makeup from  the
Took side,  something that only waited for  a chance to come out. The chance
never arrived, until Bilbo Baggins was grown up, being about fifty years old
or so, and living in the beautiful hobbit-hole built by  his father, which I
have just described for you, until  he had in  fact apparently settled  down
immovably.

薰衣草

By some  curious chance one morning long ago in the quiet of the world,
when  there was  less noise  and  more  green, and  the  hobbits  were still
numerous  and prosperous, and Bilbo  Baggins was standing at  his door after
breakfast smoking an enormous  long wooden pipe that reached nearly down  to
his woolly toes  (neatly brushed) - Gandalf  came by.  Gandalf!  If you  had
heard only a quarter of what I have heard about him, and  I have only  heard
very little of all there is to hear, you would be prepared for any sort I of
remarkable tale.  Tales  and adventures  sprouted  up  all  over  the  place
wherever  he went, in the most extraordinary  fashion. He had not  been down
that way under The Hill for ages and ages, not since his friend the Old Took
died, in fact, and the hobbits had almost forgotten what he looked like.  He
had been away over The  Hill and across  The Water  on business  of his  own
since they were all small hobbit-boys and hobbit-girls.
     All that the unsuspecting Bilbo saw that morning was  an old man with a
staff. He had a tall pointed blue  hat, a long grey cloak,  a  silver  scarf
over which a white beard hung down below his waist, and immense black boots.
     "Good  morning!" said Bilbo,  and he meant it. The sun was shining, and
the grass was very  green. But  Gandalf looked at him from  under long bushy
eyebrows that stuck out further than the brim of his shady hat. "What do you
mean?" be  said. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that  it is  a good
morning whether I want not; or that you feel good  this morning; or that  it
is morning to be good on?"
     "All of them at once,"  said Bilbo. "And a very fine morning for a pipe
of tobacco out of doors, into the bargain. If you have a pipe about you, sit
down and have a fill of mine! There's no hurry, we  have all  the day before
us!" Then Bilbo sat down  on a seat by his door, crossed his legs, and  blew
out a  beautiful grey ring of  smoke  that  sailed up  into the air  without
breaking and floated away over The Hill.
     "Very pretty!"  said  Gandalf. "But I have no time to blow  smoke-rings
this morning.  I am looking for someone to share  in an adventure that  I am
arranging, and it's very difficult to find anyone."
     "I should think  so - in these parts! We are plain quiet folk  and have
no use for adventures. Nasty .disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late
for dinner! I can't think what anybody sees in them," said our Mr.  Baggins,
and  stuck  one  thumb  behind  his braces, and blew out another even bigger
smoke-ring.  Then  he  took out his morning  letters,  and  begin  to  read,
pretending to take no more notice of the old man. He had decided that he was
not quite his sort, and wanted him to go away. But the old man did not move.
He  stood leaning on  his  stick  and gazing at the  hobbit  without  saying
anything, till Bilbo got quite uncomfortable and even a little cross.
     "Good morning!" he said at last. "We  don't want  any  adventures here,
thank  you!  You might try  over The Hill or  across The Water." By this  he
meant that the conversation was at an end.
     "What a lot of things you do use Good morning  for!" said Gandalf. "Now
you mean  that you want to get rid of me, and that it won't be good  till  I
move off."
     "Not at all, not at all, my dear sir! Let me see, I don't  think I know
your name?"
     "Yes, yes, my dear sir  - and I do know  your name,  Mr. Bilbo Baggins.
And you do know my name, though you don't remember that I belong to it. I am
Gandalf,  and Gandalf means me!  To think  that  I  should  have lived to be
good-morninged by Belladonna Took's son, as if  I was selling buttons at the
door!"

薰衣草

"Gandalf, Gandalf! Good gracious me! Not the wandering wizard that gave
Old  Took a  pair of magic diamond studs that  fastened themselves and never
came  undone till ordered?  Not the fellow who  used to tell such  wonderful
tales  at  parties, about dragons and goblins and giants and the  rescue  of
princesses and the unexpected luck of widows' sons? Not the man that used to
make such particularly excellent fireworks! I remember those! Old Took  used
to  have them on  Midsummer's Eve. Splendid! They used to go up  like  great
lilies  and snapdragons and laburnums of fire  and hang in the  twilight all
evening!" You will notice already that Mr. Baggins was not quite so prosy as
he liked to believe, also that he  was very fond of flowers. "Dear  me!" she
went  on. "Not the Gandalf  who was responsible  for so many  quiet lads and
lasses going off into the  Blue for mad  adventures. Anything  from climbing
trees  to visiting  Elves - or  sailing  in ships, sailing to other  shores!
Bless me, life  used to  be quite inter - I mean,  you used to upset  things
badly in these parts once upon a time. I beg your pardon, but I had  no idea
you were still in business."
     "Where  else  should I be?" said the wizard. "All the same I am pleased
to find you remember  something about me. You seem  to remember my fireworks
kindly, at  any rate, land that is  not without  hope. Indeed for  your  old
grand-father  Took's sake, and for  the sake of poor Belladonna, I will give
you what you asked for."
     "I beg your pardon, I haven't asked for anything!"
     "Yes, you have! Twice  now. My pardon. I give it you. In fact I will go
so far  as to send you on this adventure. Very amusing for me, very good for
you and profitable too, very likely, if you ever get over it."
     "Sorry!  I don't  want  any  adventures,  thank  you. Not  today.  Good
morning! But please come to tea - any time  you like! Why not tomorrow? Come
tomorrow! Good-bye!"
     With that the hobbit  turned and scuttled  inside his round green door,
and shut it as quickly as he  dared, not to seen rude. Wizards after all are
wizards.
     "What on earth  did I ask him to tea for!" he  said to  him-self, as he
went  to the pantry. He  had only just had break fast, but he thought a cake
or two and a drink of something  would do him good after his fright. Gandalf
in the meantime was still standing outside  the  door, and laughing long but
quietly.  After a while  he stepped up,  and  with  the spike  of  his staff
scratched a queer sign on the  hobbit's beautiful  green front-door. Then he
strode  away, just about the time  when Bilbo was  finishing his second cake
and beginning to think that he had escape adventures very well.
     The next day he had almost forgotten about Gandalf He did  not remember
things  very  well,  unless  he put them down on his Engagement Tablet: like
this:  Gandalf  '仟  Wednesday.  Yesterday he had  been too flustered to  do
anything of the  kind. Just before tea-time there came a tremendous ring  on
the front-door  bell,  and  then  he  remembered! He  rushed and put  on the
kettle, and put out another cup and saucer and an extra cake or two, and ran
to the door.
     "I am  so sorry to keep you waiting!" he was going to say, when  he saw
that it was not Gandalf at all. It was a dwarf with a blue beard tucked into
a golden belt, and very bright eyes under his dark-green hood. As soon a the
door was opened, he pushed inside, just as if he had been expected.
     He hung  his  hooded cloak on the  nearest  peg,  and "Dwalin  at  your
service!" he said with a low bow.
     "Bilbo Baggins  at yours!"  said the hobbit,  too surprised to  ask any
questions  for  the  moment.  When  the  silence  that followed  had  become
uncomfortable,  he added: "I am just  about to take tea;  pray come and have
some  with me." A little stiff  perhaps, but  he  meant  it kindly. And what
would you do, if an uninvited dwarf came and hung his things up in your hall
without a word of explanation?
     They had not  been at table long, in fact they  had  hardly reached the
third cake, when there came another even louder ring at the bell.
     "Excuse me!" said the hobbit, and off he went to the door.
     "So you have got here at last!" was what he was going to say to Gandalf
this time.  But  it was  not Gandalf.  Instead there was a very  old-looking
dwarf on the step  with a white beard and a scarlet hood; and he too  hopped
inside as soon as the door was open, just as if he had been invited.
     "I see they have begun to arrive already," he said when he caught sight
of  Dwalin's  green hood hanging up.  He  hung his red one  next  to it, and
"Balin at your service!" he said with his hand on his breast.

薰衣草

"Thank you!" said  Bilbo with a gasp. It was not the  correct thing  to
say,  but  they  have  begun to  arrive  had flustered  him badly.  He liked
visitors, but he liked to know them before they arrived, and he preferred to
ask them himself. He had a horrible thought that the cakes might run  short,
and then he-as the host: he knew his duty and stuck to it however painful-he
might have to go without.
     "Come along in,  and have some tea!" he  managed to say after taking  a
deep breath.
     "A  little beer would suit me better, if it is  all the same to you, my
good  sir,"  said  Balin  with  the  white  beard.  "But  I don't mind  some
cake-seed-cake, if you have any."
     "Lots!"  Bilbo found  himself answering,  to  his own surprise; and  he
found himself scuttling off, too, to the cellar to fill a pint beer-mug, and
to  the pantry to  fetch two  beautiful round seed-cakes which  he had baked
that afternoon for his after-supper morsel.
     When he got  back Balin  and Dwalin were  talking at the table like old
friends  (as  a matter  of fact they were brothers). Bilbo  plumped down the
beer and the cake in front of them, when loud came a ring at the bell again,
and then another ring.
     "Gandalf  for certain this  time,"  he thought as he puffed  along  the
passage.  But  it was not. It was two more  dwarves, both  with  blue hoods,
silver belts, and yellow beards; and each of them carried a bag of tools and
a spade. In they hopped, as soon as the door began to open-Bilbo  was hardly
surprised at all.
     "What can I do for you, my dwarves?" he said. "Kili  at your  service!"
said the  one. "And Fili!" added  the other; and they both  swept  off their
blue hoods and bowed.
     "At yours and your family's!"  replied  Bilbo,  remembering his manners
this time.
     "Dwalin  and Balin  here already, I see,"  said Kili.  "Let us join the
throng!"
     "Throng!"  thought  Mr.  Baggins.  "I  don't like the sound  of that. I
really must sit down for a minute and collect my wits, and have a drink." He
had only just had a sip-in the corner, while the four dwarves sat around the
table, and  talked about mines  and  gold and troubles with the goblins, and
the depredations of  dragons,  and lots of  other things  which he  did  not
understand, and did not want to, for they sounded much too adventurous-when,
ding-dong-a-ling-'  dang,  his  bell  rang again, as if  some naughty little
hobbit-boy was trying to  pull  the handle off. "Someone  at  the  door!" he
said,  blinking.  "Some  four,  I  should  say  by  the sound,"  said  Fili.
"Be-sides, we saw them coming along behind us in the distance."
     The poor little hobbit sat  down  in the  hall  and put his head in his
hands, and wondered  what  had happened, and what  was  going to happen, and
whether they would all  stay to supper. Then the bell rang again louder than
ever, and he had to run to the door. It was not four  after all, t was FIVE.
Another  dwarf  had come  along while  he was wondering in the hall.  He had
hardly turned the knob, be-x)re they were all inside, bowing and saying  "at
your service" one after another.  Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, and Gloin were their
names;  and very soon  two  purple hoods, a  grey hood, a  brown hood, and a
white hood  were hanging on the pegs, and off  they marched with their broad
hands  stuck in their gold and silver belts  to join the others. Already  it
had almost become a  throng. Some called for ale,  and some for  porter, and
one for coffee, and all of them for cakes; so  the hobbit was kept very busy
for a while.

薰衣草

A big jug of coffee bad just  been  set  in  the hearth, the seed-cakes
were gone, and the dwarves were starting on a round of buttered scones, when
there came-a loud knock.  Not  a ring, but a  hard rat-tat  on the  hobbit's
beautiful green door. Somebody was banging with a stick!
     Bilbo rushed along  the passage,  very angry, and altogether bewildered
and  bewuthered-this was the  most awkward Wednesday he  ever remembered. He
pulled open the  door with a jerk, and they all fell in, one  on  top of the
other. More dwarves, four more! And there was Gandalf behind, leaning on his
staff and  laughing. He  had made quite a dent on the beautiful door; he had
also, by the way, knocked  out the secret  mark that  he had  put  there the
morning before.
     "Carefully! Carefully!"  he said. "It  is not like you,  Bilbo, to keep
friends waiting on the mat,  and then  open the  door like a pop-gun! Let me
introduce Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and especially Thorin!"
     "At your service!"  said  Bifur, Bofur,  and Bombur standing  in a row.
Then they hung up two yellow hoods and a pale green one; and also a sky-blue
one with a  long silver tassel. This  last belonged to Thorin, an enormously
important dwarf, in fact no other than the great Thorin Oakenshield himself,
who was not at all pleased at falling flat on Bilbo's mat with Bifur, Bofur,
and Bombur  on top of him. For one thing Bombur was immensely fat and heavy.
Thorin indeed was very haughty, and said nothing about service; but poor Mr.
Baggins said he was sorry so many times, that at last he grunted "pray don't
mention it," and stopped frowning.
     "Now we are all here!"  said Gandalf, looking at the  row  of  thirteen
hoods-the best detachable party hoods-and  his own hat hanging on  the pegs.
"Quite a merry gathering!
     I hope there is something left for  the  late-comers to eat  and drink!
What's that? Tea! No thank you! A  little red  wine,  I think, for me." "And
for me,"  said Thorin. "And raspberry  jam and apple-tart," said Bifur. "And
mince-pies and  cheese," said Bofur. "And pork-pie and  salad," said Bombur.
"And  more cakes-and ale-and  coffee, if  you don't mind,"  called the other
dwarves through the door.
     "ut on a  few eggs, there's a good fellow!" Gandalf called after  him,
as the  hobbit stumped  off to  the pantries. "And just bring out  the  cold
chicken and pickles!"
     "Seems  to know as much about the inside of my larders as I do myself!"
thought Mr. Baggins, who was feeling positively flummoxed, and was beginning
to  wonder whether a  most  wretched  adventure had not come right  into his
house. By  the time he had got all  the bottles  and  dishes  and knives and
forks and glasses and plates and spoons and things piled up on big trays, he
was getting very hot, and red in the face, and annoyed.
     "Confusticate and  bebother these dwarves!"  he said aloud. "Why  don't
they come and lend a hand?"  Lo and behold! there stood  Balin and Dwalin at
the door of the kitchen, and Fili and Kili behind  them, and before he could
say knife they  had whisked the trays and a couple of small tables into  the
parlour and set out everything afresh.
     Gandalf  sat at the head of  the  party with the  thirteen, dwarves all
round:  and Bilbo sat on a stool at the fireside, nibbling at a biscuit (his
appetite  was quite taken  away), and  trying  to look as  if  this was  all
perfectly  ordinary and. not in the least  an adventure. The dwarves ate and
ate,  and talked  and talked, and time  got  on.  At last they  pushed their
chairs back, and Bilbo made a move to collect the plates and glasses.
     "I suppose you  will  all  stay  to supper?" he  said in  his  politest
unpressing  tones.  "Of course!"  said  Thorin. "And  after.  We  shan't get
through  the business till late, and  we must have some music first.  Now to
clear up!"
     Thereupon the  twelve  dwarves-not Thorin, he was  too  important,  and
stayed  talking to Gandalf-jumped to their feet  and made  tall piles of all
the  things.  Off they  went,  not waiting  for trays, balancing columns  of
plates, each with a bottle on the  top, with one hand,  while the hobbit ran
after them almost squeaking with fright:  "please be careful!" and  "please,
don't trouble! I can manage." But the dwarves only started to sing:

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

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

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

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

薰衣草

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

薰衣草

As they sang the hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands
and by cunning  and by magic moving through  him, a fierce and jealous love,
the  desire of the hearts of dwarves. Then  something Tookish woke up inside
him,  and  he  wished  to  go  and see  the  great mountains,  and  hear the
pine-trees  and  the  waterfalls, and explore  the caves,  and  wear a sword
instead of a walking-stick.  He looked out of the window. The stars were out
in  a dark  sky  above  the  trees. He thought of the jewels of the  dwarves
shining in dark caverns. Suddenly in the wood beyond The Water a flame leapt
up--probably somebody  lighting a  wood-fire-and  he  thought of  plundering
dragons  settling on  his  quiet Hill and  kindling  it all  to  flames.  He
shuddered; and very quickly he was plain Mr. Baggins of Bag-End, Under-Hill,
again.
     He got  up  trembling. He had less than half a mind to fetch  the lamp,
and more  than half a  mind  to pretend  to, and go and hide behind the beer
barrels in the cellar, and not come out again until all the dwarves had gone
away. Suddenly he found that the music and the singing had stopped, and they
were all looking at him with eyes shining in the dark.
     "Where are you going?" said Thorin, in  a tone that seemed to show that
he guessed both halves of the hobbit's mind.
     "What about a little light?" said Bilbo apologetically.
     "We like the dark,"  said  the dwarves. "Dark  for dark business! There
are many hours before dawn."
     "Of course!" said Bilbo, and  sat down in a  hurry. He missed the stool
and sat in the fender, knocking over the poker and shovel with a crash.
     "Hush!" said Gandalf. "Let Thorin speak!" And this is bow Thorin began.
     "Gandalf, dwarves and Mr.  Baggins! We are not together in the house of
our  friend  and  fellow  conspirator,  this  most  excellent and  audacious
hobbit-may the hair on his toes never fall out! all praise to  his wine  and
ale!-"  He paused for  breath and  for a polite remark from the hob-bit, but
the  compliments  were quite lost on-poor Bilbo Baggins, who was wagging his
mouth  in  protest  at being  called  audacious  and  worst  of  all  fellow
conspirator, though no noise came out, he  was so flummoxed.  So Thorin went
on:
     "We are met  to discuss our plans, our ways, means, policy and devices.
We  shall soon  before the break of day start on our long journey, a journey
from  which  some  of  us,  or  perhaps all  of  us (except our  friend  and
counsellor, the ingenious wizard  Gandalf)  may never return. It is a solemn
moment. Our object is, I take it, well known to us all. To the estimable Mr.
Baggins, and perhaps  to one or two of the younger dwarves (I think I should
be right in naming Kili and Fili, for instance), the exact situation  at the
moment may require a little brief explanation-"
     This was Thorin's  style. He  was an important dwarf. If  he  had  been
allowed, he would  probably  have  gone on like  this  until he was  out  of
breath, without telling any one there 'anything  that was not known already.
But he  was rudely  interrupted. Poor Bilbo couldn't bear it any longer.  At
may never return he began to  feel a shriek coming up inside,  and very soon
it  burst out like the whistle of an engine coming out of a tunnel.  All the
dwarves sprang Bp knocking over the table. Gandalf struck a  blue  light  on
the end of his magic staff, and in its firework glare the poor little hobbit
could be  seen kneeling  on the hearth-rug, shaking  like a jelly  that  was
melting. Then he fell flat on  the floor, and kept on calling out "struck by
lightning, struck by lightning!"  over and over again; and that was all they
could get  out of him for a  long time. So they took him and laid him out of
the  way  on the drawing-room sofa with a drink  at his elbow, and they went
back to their dark business.
     "Excitable little  fellow," said Gandalf, as they sat down again. "Gets
funny queer fits,  but he is one of the best, one of the best-as fierce as a
dragon in a pinch."

薰衣草

If you have ever seen a  dragon in a pinch, you  will realize that this
was only poetical exaggeration  applied to  any  hobbit, even to  Old Took's
great-granduncle Bullroarer, who  was so  huge (for a hobbit) that he  could
ride a horse.  He  charged  the ranks of the goblins  of Mount Gram  in  the
Battle of the Green Fields, and knocked their king  Gol-firnbul's head clean
off with a wooden club. It sailed a  hundred  yards through the air and went
down a rabbit hole, and in this way the  battle was won and the game of Golf
invented at the same moment.
     In the meanwhile, however, Bullroarer's gentler descendant was reviving
in the  drawing-room. After a  while and  a drink  he crept nervously to the
door of the  parlour. This  is  what he heard, Gloin  speaking: "Humph!" (or
some snort more or  less  like that).  "Will  he do, do you think? It is all
very well for Gandalf to talk about this hobbit being fierce, but one shriek
like  that in a moment of excitement would be enough to  wake the dragon and
all  his relatives, and kill  the  lot of  us.  I think it sounded more like
fright than excitement!  In fact, if  it bad not  been for  the sign on  the
door,  I should have been sure we had come to the wrong house. As  soon as I
clapped eyes on the little fellow  bobbing  and puffing on the mat, I had my
doubts. He looks more like a grocer-than a burglar!"
     Then Mr. Baggins  turned the handle and went in. The Took side had won.
He suddenly felt he would go without bed and breakfast to be thought fierce.
As  for little fellow bobbing on  the  mat it almost made him really fierce.
Many a time  afterwards the Baggins part  regretted what he  did now, and he
said to himself: "Bilbo, you were a  fool; you walked right in and  put your
foot in it."
     "ardon me," he said, "if I  have overheard words that you were saying.
I don't pretend to understand what  you are talking about, or your reference
to burglars,  but I think I  am right  in believing" (this is what he called
being on his dignity) "that you think  I am no good. I will show you. I have
no signs on my door-it was painted a week ago-, and I am quite sure you have
come to the wrong house. As soon as I saw your funny faces on the door-step,
I had my doubts.  But treat it as the right one. Tell me what you want done,
and I will try it, if I have to walk from here to the East of East and fight
the wild Were-worms in the Last Desert. I bad a great-great-great-granduncle
once, Bullroarer Took, and --"
     "Yes, yes, but that  was  long ago,"  said Gloin. "I  was talking about
you.  And  I assure you  there is a mark on this door-the  usual  one in the
trade,  or used  to be. Burglar  wants a good job, plenty of Excitement  and
reasonable Reward,  that's  how  it  is  usually  read.  You ^an say  Expert
Treasure-hunter  instead of Burglar if you like.  Some of them do.  It's all
the same to us. Gandalf told us  that  there was a man  of the sort in these
parts looking for a Job at once, and that he had arranged for a meeting here
this Wednesday tea-time."
     "Of course there is a mark,"  said Gandalf. "I put it there myself. For
very good reasons.  You asked  me  to  find  the  fourteenth  man  for  your
expedition, and I chose Mr. Baggins. Just let any  one say I chose the wrong
man or the wrong house,  and you can stop  at thirteen and have all the  bad
luck you like, or go back to digging coal."

薰衣草

He  scowled so  angrily  at Gloin that  the dwarf  huddled back  in his
chair; and  when Bilbo tried to open his mouth to ask a question,  he turned
and  frowned at  him and stuck oat his bushy  eyebrows,  till Bilbo shut his
mouth tight with a snap. "That's right,"  said Gandalf. "Let's  have no more
argument. I have chosen Mr. Baggins and that ought to !6te enough for all of
you.  If I say he is  a Burglar, a  Burglar he  is, or will be when the time
comes. There is a  lot more in him  than  you guess, and a deal more than he
has any idea of  himself. You may  (possibly)  all live to thank me yet. Now
Bilbo, my boy, fetch the lamp, and let's have little light on this!"
     On the table in the light  of a big lamp  with  a red shad he spread  a
piece of parchment rather like a map.
     "This was made by Thror, your grandfather, Thorin, he said in answer to
the dwarves' excited questions. "It is a plan of the Mountain."
     "I don't see that this will help us  much," said Thorin  disappointedly
after a glance. "I remember the Mountain well enough and the lands about it.
And I know where Mirkwood is, and the Withered Heath where the great dragons
bred."
     "There is a  dragon marked in  red on the Mountain, said Balin, "but it
will be easy enough to find him without that, if ever we arrive there."
     "There  is one point that you  haven't  noticed," said the wizard, "and
that  is the secret entrance.  You see that  rune on the West side, and  the
hand pointing to it from the other  runes?*(  That marks a hidden passage to
the Lower Halls.
     "It may have been secret  once,"  said Thorin, "but how do we know that
it is secret  any longer? Old Smaug had lived there long enough now to  find
out anything there is to know about those caves."
     "He may-but he can't have used it for years and years. "Why?"
     "Because it is too small. 'Five feet  high the door and three  may walk
abreast' say the runes, but Smaug could not creep into a hole that size, not
even when  he  was  a young dragon, certainly not after devouring so many of
the dwarves and men of Dale."
     "It  seems  a  great big  hole  to  me,"  squeaked  Bilbo  (who  had no
experience  of dragons and  only of hobbit-holes) He was getting excited and
interested again, so that  he forgot to  keep his mouth shut. He loved maps,
and  in  his hall  there hung a large one of the  Country Round with all his
favourite walks marked on it in  red  ink. "How could  such a large door  be
kept secret from everybody outside, apart from the dragon?" he asked. He was
only a little hobbit you must remember.
     "In lots of  ways," said  Gandalf. "But in  what way  this one has been
hidden we don't know without  going to see. From what it  says  on the map I
should guess there is a closed door which has been made to look exactly like
the side of the Mountain. That is the usual dwarves' method- I think that is
right, isn't it?" "Quite right," said Thorin.
     "Also," went on Gandalf, "I forgot to  mention that with the map went a
key, a small and curious key. Here it is!" he  said, and  handed to Thorin a
key with a long barrel and intricate wards, made of silver. "Keep it safe!"
     "Indeed I will," said Thorin, and he fastened it upon a fine chain that
hung about his neck and  under his  jacket. "Now things  begin to look  more
hopeful. This  news alters them much  for-the better. So far we  have had no
clear idea what to do.  We thought of going East, as quiet and careful as we
could, as far as the Long Lake. After that the trouble would begin."
     "A  long  time before  that, if I know anything about  the loads East,"
interrupted Gandalf.

薰衣草

"We might  go from  there up  along the River Running,"  went on Thorin
taking no notice, "and so to the  ruins of  Dale-the old town in  the valley
there, under the shadow of the Mountain. But we none of us liked the idea of
the Front  Gate. The river runs right out of it through the great  cliff  at
the South of the Mountain, and out of it comes the dragon too-far too often,
unless he has changed."
     "That would  be  no  good,"  said the  wizard,  "not  without  a mighty
Warrior, even a  Hero.  I tried to find one;  but warriors are busy fighting
one another  in  distant lands, and in this neighbourhood heroes are scarce,
or  simply lot to be found. Swords in these parts are mostly blunt, and axes
are used for trees, and shields as  cradles or dish-covers; and  dragons are
comfortably  far-off (and  therefore  legendary). That  is why  I settled on
burglary-especially when I remembered the existence of a Side-door. And here
is our little Bilbo Baggins, the  burglar, the chosen and  selected burglar.
So now let's get on and make some plans."
     "Very well then," said Thorin, "supposing  the  burglar-expert gives us
some ideas or suggestions." He turned with mock-politeness to Bilbo.
     "First I should like to know a bit more about things," said he, feeling
all confused  and a bit shaky inside, but so  far still lookishly determined
to go on with things. "I mean about the gold and  the dragon,  and all that,
and how it got there, and who it belongs to, and so on and further."
     "Bless me!" said Thorin,  "haven't you  got a map? and  didn't you hear
our song? and haven't we been talking about all this for hours?"
     "All  the same,  I  should  like  it  all  plain and  clear,"  said  he
obstinately, putting on his business manner (usually reserved for people who
tried  to borrow  money off him), and  doing  his  best to  appear wise  and
prudent and professional and live  up to  Gandalf's recommendation. "Also  I
should like to  know about risks, out-of-pocket expenses, time  required and
remuneration,  and so forth"-by which he meant: "What am  I going to get out
of it? and am I going to come back alive?"
     "O very well," said Thorin. "Long  ago in my grandfather  Thror's  time
our family was  driven out of  the  far North,  and came back with all their
wealth and  their tools to this Mountain on the map. It  had been discovered
by my  far ancestor, Thrain the  Old, but now they mined and they  tunnelled
and they made  huger  halls and greater workshops -and in addition I believe
they found a good deal of gold and a great many jewels too. Anyway they grew
immensely rich  and famous, and  my  grandfather was King under the Mountain
again and treated with great reverence by the  mortal men, who lived to  the
South, and were gradually  spreading  up the  Running River  as  far  as the
valley overshadowed by the Mountain. They built the merry town of Dale there
in those days.  Kings used to send for our smiths, and reward even the least
skilful most richly. Fathers would beg us to take their sons as apprentices,
and  pay us handsomely, especially in food-supplies, which we never bothered
to grow or find for ourselves. Altogether  those  were good days for us, and
the  poorest of us  had  money to  spend  and  to lend, and leisure to  make
beautiful  things just  for  the. fun  of  it,  not  to  speak  of  the most
marvellous and magical  toys, the  like of which is not to  be found in  the
world now-a-days. So my grandfather's halls became full of armour and jewels
and  carvings and  cups, and the  toy-market of  Dale was the wonder  of the
North.