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elles-writing · 4 years

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When the worlds collide - Kili x reader - part II

gif not mine

Pairing: Kili x reader

Requested: No

A/N: Second part, hope you enjoy. Also my school started, and we’re not really doing anything just yet. I also do have some imagines in drafts I’ve started writting, but I’ve never posted them, so idk if I’m gonna finish them and then post them at least once a week along with this series (once every two to three days I’d like to post parts of this series as a thank you for 30 followers!)...? Also, I’ve been thinking of maybe drawing some fan arts to this series? Also, I’m writting this in Word, and so far we are on a ten pages, so I’ve decided to cut the end of this one and post something else tomorrow.

warnings: Kili being jealous of Bilbo, some dwarves being a jerks

masterlist part one part three

tags:

@moony-artnstuff

All of them looked at you with different mix of curiousity, suspicion and hope. You looked over to Gandalf with pleading look to help you, but he was already talking with some of the dwarves, from their angry tone you assumed they weren’t very pleased of where this was going, so you decided to talk, even through you were still a bit shocked, to some of whom weren’t in any discussion.

Which happened to be Bilbo.

He looked very lost and his face held sad and hopeless look. You sighed.

„I’m really sorry for you all, but you, Bilbo, got another shock, didn’t you?“ You asked that hobbit. He jumped up and when he realized it was you, he sadly with sad smile shook his head.

„Yeah, it’s been very...difficult to deal with leaving my home. I’ve been missing it all the time, but I got used to it.“ You offered him a warm smile and patted his shoulder.

„I belive you’ll see your hobbit hole again. I’ll try and help you.“ He gave you a weak smile and nodded.

„Thank you a lot, it’s really nice from you, miss...?“ He looked at you and you realized you didn’t even introduced yourself.

„Oh, my name’s Y/N. I’m Y/N.“

„It’s very nice to meet you, miss Y/N.“ You glanced over and noticed by the corner of your eye Kili’s expression.

Third person pov

Kili have been eyeing you since you’ve let him, Fili and Thorin inside and wanted to learn more about you, especially when you called him by his name. You knew him, but he didn’t knew you, for Mahal’s sake!

The clothes you’ve given to him was dry and comfortable, even if it wasn’t something he was used to back in Middle-Earth. He wanted to talk to you, not only because of being curious of where did you knew his name from – but also because he felt something and wanted, needed to be close to you.

When you started talking, he was watching you, every single move of yours – he could see you were nervous and still a bit pale from shock, but he was hanging on every single word you said (which, he knew, will Fili take advantage of and tease him on every single opportunity he will get).

When you said you thought about a way to explain why do you know all of them, Fili turned to him to affiliate him into discussion, but he noticed the way his brother’s jaw clenched and if looks could kill, Bilbo would be dead.

You and Bilbo were talking about his home and Fili noticed that when you assuringly smiled at Bilbo and placed your hand on his shoulder, Kili averted his gaze, but in a few seconds he looked back at you. Fili chuckled. He’s gonna be teasing him about being jealous of that halfling they were playing pranks at.

It seemed like Kili got back for his prank with horse hairs, which he rubbed over handkief, then gave it to Bilbo, whom couldn’t use it, because he was sneezing all the time.

Now that hobbit got not only your attention, but also you touched him.

Kili was now having a pouting face he did since both Kili and Fili could remember, and Fili chuckled to himself. Kili wouldn’t admit he was jealous, especially because of you and Bilbo talking. And Fili knew that.

He nudged him to ribs and murmed.

„I’m begging you, behave.“ Kili flinched, but his eyes weren’t leaving your face.

„I am behaving.“ Fili chuckled.

„If looks could kill, Bilbo would be dead. That is not behaving.“

„I didn’t do anything!“ He whispered-hissed-yelled. Fili chuckled.

„You look like you want to jump over the table and choke him. Tsk tsk brother.“

„What are you two talking about?“ Kili froze and Fili did too. It was you.

„I-uhm-“ Kili looked to Fili for help. He was doing this rarely, but if he did, Fili knew he was hopeless.

„It was nothing, really.“ He said and inhaled to say something else, but Kili was quicker.

„I, uh, you know my name, right?“

Your pov

„I, uh, you know my name, right?“ Said Kili and you nodded. He was your favourite character, even if you didn’t liked the moments when him and Fili made Bilbo to go against the trolls, or when they were pranking him and making fun of that poor little thing.

„Yeah, I do.“ An awkvard silence came up between you two. You shyly smiled towards him, finding him attractive, and looked over the table. You stood up again.

„Don’t be afraid. Only that...,“ you looked at Gandalf and he nodded.

„I’m not sure how are you going to take it.“ You went to your living room and pulling out a visibly readen book, The Hobbit. It was in the upper shelf, where nobody really paid attention to the books. This book was old and you couldn’t risk if somebody would lose it or destroy it.

You came back to the kitchen and inhaled deeply.

„This is the first thing, but before that I need you to tell me, honestly, what happened before you appeared in-or near-,“ you said, looking over the Durins,

„My house.“

„We were escaping from the Mirkwood,“ Thorin said with a glare shot to Thranduil, whom snorted quietly. Legolas furrowed his brows.

„We were on a feast of starlight,“ He said, being absolutely certain.

„Wasn’t it more of escaping from the goblins?“ Balin looked at Thorin sleepishly. This time it was Bilbo who furrowed his brows.

„I thought we were-“

„Bilbo!“ That was Kili.

„Kili!“ That was Fili.

„You two!“ That was Thorin.

„Dwarves,“ That was Thranduil and Legolas.

„Can you just calm down? Miss Y/N is trying to help us here and you’re making it more difficult than we need it to be.“ Bard got up from his seat. You smiled at him, thankful he stood up for you.

„Thank you, Bard. Okay, so you don’t wanna tell me that. Great. But you’ll understand why I was asking this question,“ you said mysteriously. All of them sat closer now, even if the dwarves would be still arguing it was true.

You sat down, opened the book, deeply inhaled and started reading.

They were shocked, to say at least.

You’ve red a first few pages and let them to ask questions. There was many of them, to say at least.

„How do you know all that?“

„How old is that book?“

„Where is it from?“

„Are you a magician?“

All of the questions, creating live and happy chit-chat, quickly shutted down by Thorin’s gaze, when he stood up and suspiciously stared at you.

„How do we know we can trust you?“ You opened your mouth to answer, but Thranduil’s eye-roll was quicker. You giggled.

„Well, I know your stories. And if you don’t believe me after you’ve seen and heard something from this book – I‘ve got a few editions of them, from different years – you are probably gonna believe me after you’ll see the movies.“ Thorin’s brows furrowed.

„A movies? What is it?“ Balin placed his hand on Thorin’s shoulder and murmed something, before the dwarf king sat down.

„Does she wants to offend us?“ Turned Dwalin (getting angry) to Gandalf.

„You have to believe her, Dwalin. She knows this world, and this is surely nothing that would have the intention to offend any of you.“ He looked also at Thorin while he way saying these words, and he looked back at you and you nodded. Meanwhile, Thranduil shot him a glare and turned to you.

„Alright, so are you going to show us, that, ehm, movie? What is it about?“ He asked the question that any of them was thinking of. You nodded and dramatically inhaled, overhearing Fili’s ‚Is she okay?‘ and smiled inwardly.

„It’s about an introvert being forced to go outside.“ All of their faces fell and you started laughing and shook your head.

„What is introvert?“ Kili asked, bit confused. You decided to tell them about this later.

„Well, actually, it’s about Bilbo, here,“ you patted his shoulder and the hobbit’s eyes grew wide.

„Who was sighed as a burglar by Gandalf to the company of Thorin Oakenshield,“ you looked over the table to find Gandalf nodding and Thorin looking slightely surprised, but pleased.

„To get back the dwarvish kingdom Erebor,“ You looked over the dwarves and noticed Kili’s eyes sparkling and your stomach did a backflip. Oh, these puppy eyes were always a thing you knew you couldn’t resist to.

„From dragon called...“

„Smaug,“ Kili and Fili said at once. You chuckled.

„Now, wait here and you can read the book, the movie is based on it. Just, please,“ You looked especially on Fili and Kili,

„be careful. It’s an old book, I found it in antiquarian bookstore, and red it way too many times, because it’s my favourite edition.“ And left to prepare living room for the movie.

Fili’s pov

„You were unusually quiet,“ I nudged Kili. He just shrugged it off.

„I’m not loud all the time,“ He tried to argue but I only chuckled. I knew him my whole life. I couldn’t unnotice his sudden change of behavior.

„Yes, you are, plus, you’re staring at Master Baggins as if you’d wanted to kill him, again. So, aren’t you going to tell me what’s going on, Kee?“ Kili shook his head and averted his gaze to the table. Then, he mumbled something and refused to meet my gaze.

„Oh, I see,“ I mumbled enough for him to hear it. I tilted towards him.

„You like her and you hate that she’s giving Bilbo more attention than to you.“ Kili did pouted his lips and still refused to meet my gaze. I chuckled.

„I knew, it, I knew it!“ I laughed and Kili was hissing at me.

„Shut, it, just shut up, Fili, she’ll hear-“

#when the worlds collide #the hobbit #kili x reader

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365days365movies · 4 years

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March 1, 2021: The Hobbit (1977) (Part 1)

In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit.

When I was 9, my school let us read a very special book, originally meant for kids, but beloved by everyone. My folks and I went to Borders Books (FUCK ME, I miss Borders), and we got an illustrated copy of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit. I can’t find that book, but if I ever find it again, Imma buy it IMMEDIATELY, I tell you what. And...oh shit, it’s on Amazon for $12?

Well. I just made that purchase, I guess. But yeah, I loved that book when I was a kid, and this was during the same year that Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy began, with Fellowship, of course. And I wouldn’t end up watching those until a few years later, but I loved those too when I saw them. And I’ve NEVER seen the abridged version, by the way, I’ve only ever seen the extended editions.

Although, I can’t call myself a hardcore fan. I’ve never read the Silmarillion, for example. Although, weirdly, I wanted it as a kid at some point, so I was almost there. But no, I ended up getting into comic books hardcore instead, so I can’t tell you the history of Tom Bombadil, but I can tell you about at least one of the fuckin’ 87 tieles that the Legion of Super-Heroes has been involved in. I’m not gonna like it though.

...Yes, I will, who am I kidding, I love the Legion. Anyway, I’ve still always been a fan of the franchise, and I was extremely excited when Jackson announced that he’d be doing an adaptation of The Hobbit! Seriously, I WAS FUCKING PUMPED, you have no idea. I re-read the book, I was super-excited...and then Harry Potter changed EVERYTHING. Kind of.

See, Harry Potter’s development as a two films made from one book seemed to kick off a trend. Breaking Dawn and Mockingjay are the two that immediately come to mind, as does this film. However, to be fair...that’s probably a coincidence. Yeah, this film was originally developed as two parts, WAY before Deathly Hallows got that treatment. And even then, Jackson and Del Toro had difficulty breaking it up into two parts, and three ended up being easier. Still...the change from two-to-three does feel a little connected to that trend.

Anyway, in celebration of that decision, I’m gonna break this review into three parts! Yes. Really. I want to see if it works. And so, let’s talk about the other most famous adaptation of this book by talking about its creators.

Yup. Rankin-Bass did 2D-animated cartoons, too! And this was one of their most famous ones, dating back to 1977. But wait! There’s more! This was followed by Ralph Bakshi’s version of Lord of the Rings by a different studio. You know, this one?

Yeah, that one. It was only based on the first two books, Fellowship and Towers. But it was technically unconnected to the Rankin-Bass version. Which is why it was REALLY weird when Rankin-Bass came out with an adaptation of the third book, Return of the King, right afterwards!

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE. Because both of Rankin-Bass’ specials were animated by a Japanese studio called Topcraft, who’d actually worked with Rankin-Bass for years. But then, they went bankrupt a few years later, and was bought by Isao Takahata, Toshio Suzuki, and...Hayao Miyazaki. And it was renamed as...

So, this is a Hobbit adaptation produced by the Rudolph people and animated by the people who would eventually become Studio Ghibli. Well, uh...holy fucking shit. Let’s DO THIS BABY. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/3)

As we’re wont to do in this story, we head to Hobbiton in the Shire, where we meet Bilbo Baggins (Orson Bean). A simple Hobbit in a simple home, with a happy and simple life. But one day, he’s approached by Gandalf (John Huston), who seeks a burglar to help with the mission of a group of dwarves, led by Thorin Oakenshield (Hans Conried).

We also immediately start off with two songs from the original book, and I have to say that I like them a but better in the Jackson movies, but they’re still well performed here. Anyway, after dinner, the true goal of their quest is given. Beneath Lonely Mountain, the ancestral home of the Dwarves, there was a kingdom ruled by the King Under the Mountain, Thorin’s grandfather.

Through reading the lyrics of the song “Far over the Misty Mountains,” Thorin tells the tale of the takeover of the Dwarves’ great golden hoard by the dragon Smaug. Bilbo is tasked to help the Dwarves steal back the treasure stolen from them. And, while he’s extremely reluctant to be a part of all this, Gandalf basically forces him to, the pushy bastard. And Bilbo’s Greatest Adventure now lies ahead!

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Speaking of, here’s the song “The Greatest Adventure”, sung by Glenn Yarborough, who is the living personification of vibrato. Fuckin’ seriously, this guy’s voice is ridiculous, but I love it so much. As the night passes underneath Glenn Yarborough’s hypnotically shaky voice, and uncertain, Bilbo stares out at the moon. Once it’s over, we’re on our way to the Misty Mountains.

Bilbo’s having a tough time with the long journey and rough weather, and it doesn’t get much better when they encounter a trio of trolls. They send out Bilbo to try and steal some mutton from them, but he’s IMMEDIATELY a failure, and also manages to tell the trolls that the dwarves are present. Nice one, Bilbo. The trolls catch all of the dwarves, although Bilbo manages to escape.

The trolls argue about how to cook the dwarves, but before they get to do anything, Gandalf shows up and summons the dawn, turning the trolls into stone and saving the dwarves. While they’re initially quite frustrated by Bilbo’s failure, he makes it up by discovering a horde of goods and weapons stolen by the trolls. This is also where Bilbo gets his classic weapon, Sting.

Gandalf, cheeky bastard that he is, suddenly reveals a map that he’s kept secret from Thorin, its rightful owner. Bilbo, a classic cartomaniac, is able to interpret the map. But there are also runes that they can’t quite read. And so, Gandalf brings them to his friend, Elrond (), who’s wearing a sick-ass glittery tiara that’s hovering off his head. How come Hugo Weaving didn’t have that?

Anyway, Elrond identifies the swords that Thorin and Gandalf grabbed as Orcrist, the Goblin-Cleaver and Glamdring, the Foe-Hammer, because FUCK YEAH, BABY, those are some fuckin’ NAMES! WHOOOOOO!

Anyway, he also points them in the direction of the mountain, and shows them hidden features to the map. They head through the mountains after this, and rest in a cave. Unfortunately, this cave is on Goblin territory, and the group (sans Gandalf, who’s disappeared to make out with Cate Blanchett or whatever) is quickly ambushed by a group of now-horned Goblins, who chant their song as they go “Down, Down, to Goblin-Town”. Which is a song that I love, unironically. It compels me to sing along.

The Goblins nearly kill them when they discover Orcrist in Thorin’s possession, but they’re saved by the sudden appearance of Gandalf with the glowing sword Glamdring. He kills the Great Goblin, and the group run out with the Goblins in hot pursuit. Well, except for Bilbo.

Yeah, Bilbo falls into a cavern below the mountain, and the dwarves think him gone for good. However, he’s miraculously safe on the ground, having landed in an underground aquifer, in which lives THE GREATEST CHARACTER IN THE MIDDLE-EARTH FRANCHISE FUCKIN’ AT ME I DARE YOU

And just so we’re clear, I’m not talking about the film version only, I’m talking about Gollum/Smeagol in general. Granted, I don’t want a film starring him or anything (coughCruellacoughcoughMaleficentcoughcoughClaricecoughcough), but I love this dissociative little dude so much. He’s one of my favorite fantasy characters in general, and is also maybe the best example of a sympathetic villain, in film at least.

OK, to be fair, I love Andy Serkis’ version of the character a LOT, like a LOT a lot, and it’s a great version of the character. OK, so what do I think of this version? He’s...interesting, actually. If I’m honest, I kinda like him. This is similar to how I always pictured Gollum when I was a kid.

I mean, listen to this description from the book, yeah?

Deep down here by the dark water lived old Gollum, a small slimy creature. I don't know where he came from, nor who or what he was. He was Gollum - as dark as darkness, except for two big round pale eyes in his thin face...He was looking out of his pale lamp-like eyes for blind fish, which he grabbed with his long fingers as quick as thinking.

I dunno, that does sound more like this version of Gollum to me, just saying. Anyway, while Gollum is off fishing in the water, Bilbo gets up on the shore, where he finds a little golden ring Not important, just a ring, definitely means nothing at all, NOTHING AT ALL, NOTHING TO SEE HERE.

The hungry Gollum (Brother Theodore) happens upon Bilbo, precious, wonders if Bilbo would taste good, and is basically about to kill him for his sweet hobbit meat, before Bilbo takes out Sting. Now afraid, Gollum offers a game of riddles. The two make a deal: if Bilbo wins at a game of riddles, Gollum will show him the way out. But if Gollum wins, precious will eat him raaaaaaaw and wrrrrrrrrrriggling!

The riddles commence, in a super-fuckin’-classic moment, and also ends with maybe the most bullshit moment in all of fantasy lore. After clever riddles with answers involving eggs, wind, and time, Bilbo’s last riddle is “What’s in my pocket?” The fuck, Bilbo, that’s absolute BULLSHIT!

Not that it matters. Bilbo wins, but Gollum goes to find his ring to show it to Bilbo before he takes him away. Thing is, though, that’s what was in Bilbo’s pocket, which Gollum quickly figures out, my precious. He’s about to kill Bilbo to get back his birthday present, precious, but Bilbo discovers the secret trick of the ring: it turns the wearer invisible, AND THAT WILL NEVER BE A BAD THING EVER.

Gollum thinks that Bilbo’s escaped and runs after him toward the exit. This, of course, leads Bilbo towards the exit inadvertently, and he follows Gollum, then jumps over him to get back. To which Gollum screams the following:

Thief! Thief! Baggins! We hates it! Hates it! Forever!

I hear you, buddy. I hear you. Well, once Bilbo escapes, he reconvenes with the rest, and shares his adventure in the cave, but leaves out the ring. And Gandalf seems to know, based on his dialogue. And I checked, and he figured it out in the book and Jackson movie, too. And I gotta say...WHAT THE FUCK GANDALF

I mean...DUDE. CHECK UP on that shit. Do you wizard job, man! If you’d been like, “Dude...you didn’t find a magic ring that turns you invisible, ight, because we’re FUCKED if you did”, NONE OF THE LORD OF THE RINGS WOULD’VE HAPPENED, AND BOROMIR WOULD STILL BE ALIVE

Everybody talks about the fuckin’ eagles, but WHY DO I NEVER HEAR ANYONE MENTION THIS SHIT? Gandalf the Grey: Middle-Earth’s most irresponsible asshole, I swear...

This seems like a good place to pause, actually. See you in the next part!

#the hobbit #the hobbit 1977 #rankin-bass #orson bean #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #john huston #gandalf #otto preminger #cyril ritchard #brother theodore #gollum #don messick #paul frees #glenn yarbrough #j.r.r. tolkien #rankin bass #hans conried

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thestuffedalligator · 5 years

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The Scholar of Gondor

There was a day’s travel between Undertowers and Hobbiton.

This was less a consequence of the actual distance between the two and more the fault of the state of the road. Namely, there wasn’t one. Thirty-five years of carts had carved two long furrows through the hilly lowlands, and these looped and turned around the hills like a very bored giant had spent an afternoon trailing its fingers through the dirt to make interesting designs. It was generally understood that a road was going to be built eventually, and in the meantime the Westmarch-hobbits and the Old-Shire-hobbits came to enjoy the distance from each other.

But gossip in the Shire never seemed to actually follow the roads. It soared on the open wind, travelling as the crow flies, so what was news in Undertowers somehow became known in Hobbiton in a matter of hours. If it was particularly scandalous gossip, it made the trip in minutes. When Fíriel Fairbairn was caught snogging Donnamira Brandybuck two Yules ago, it had spread across the Shire so quickly that it had reached back to Donnamira a full two minutes before it had actually happened. By that point the two decided that, what the hell, best not to tempt a paradox, and ducked into a parlor closet.

News about the Scholar of Gondor reached Hobbiton a full thirty minutes after the Scholar’s horse clattered to a stop in Undertowers.

This was news because it had been a full sixty years since King Elessar had declared Men as forbidden from entering the Shire. And what was worse, this human had been permitted entry into the Shire upon the orders of King Elessar himself. Worse still, the Fairbairns were apparently allowing it to stay in their home.

This was just too much for the Old-Shire-hobbits. Why couldn’t the Big Folk keep to their own and leave us in peace? And on Elessar’s orders, no less. What did Elessar think he was? King? As for staying with the Fairbairns, well -

Most hobbits stopped at that. Well. You just didn’t talk about that sort of thing.

***

Fíriel “Sharkey” Fairbairn - a nickname she had picked up by general acclaim somewhere in her tweens - was doing her own research in her family’s library. This mainly consisted of pretending to read Herblore of the Shire while trying to inconspicuously stare at the Scholar of Gondor.

She was, Sharkey decided, rather pretty in a tall sort of way, all dark, wavy hair and brown face. If she was wearing a leather tunic and hunting spiders in the forest, she’d probably be the spitting image of an elf. Instead she was wearing a grey dress and robe that was somehow fashionable in Gondor despite it making her look a bit like a grounded thundercloud, and she was currently hunched over a massive pile of hobbit books, one hand pressing open The Red Book of Westmarch, and the other scrawling notes down in a small, leather notebook.

Sharkey considered herself to be rather attractive - she had to have been, to wind up snogging Donnamira Brandybuck two Yules ago - but even in her sharpest jacket and brightest trousers, a base animal instinct warned her that the Scholar was out of her league.

Sharkey closed Herblore with a snap, pulled her pipe out of her jacket pocket, and made an obvious show of nonchalantly cleaning it. “How’s it coming?” she asked.

The Scholar nodded. “A bit slow, I’m afraid,” she said. “I’ve only just finished There and Back Again.”

Sharkey had experimentally puffed on the pipe to test it for blockages and suddenly inhaled a glob of charcoal that lodged itself in her throat. “Al-ready?” she managed between coughs. “You - just - got here - two days ago!”

The Scholar hummed. “It’s a very short book,” she said. She looked up. Sharkey noticed that her eyes were a stunning shade of grey and, just then, full of curious worry. “Are you all right?”

“Never better!” Sharkey said in a strangled tone. She made one more hard, wheezing hack, and the glob came out into the crook of her elbow.

“What I don’t get,” Sharkey said, changing the subject after a sufficiently embarrassing pause, “is - you’re here to study The Red Book. I get that. But we gave Gondor a copy of The Red Book just three years ago, right?”

The Scholar tapped her quill on the notebook. “Well, yes, and we’re very grateful for it. But the academics of Gondor believed that it deserved some… clarification.”

Sharkey quirked an eyebrow. “Clarification?”

The Scholar nodded and flipped through some pages of notes. “Bilbo seemed to have something of a fanciful imagination, and inserted some creatures from hobbit folklore into his writing.” She got to a page almost black with Sindarin. “There and Back Again has stone-giants, skin-changers, were-worms - were-worms!” She looked back up at Sharkey. “What the hell is a were-worm?”

Sharkey allowed the image to form in her mind. “Something like a werewolf, I reckon,” she said after a moment. “Only it turns into a worm, not a wolf. Stands to reason, right?”

There was a pause as the Scholar thought up the image as well. “No,” she said.

Sharkey grinned. “Oh, what, you’ll accept eagles, trolls, goblins, and dragons, but-”

“They’re history,” the Scholar said. “Giants and mewlips and gorcrows and Tom Bombadil - those are mythology.”

There was a thoughtful pause. “I admit it’s a fine line,” the Scholar said. “But I can see it from where I stand-”

“Tom Bombadil’s mythology?”

“Er - yes,” the Scholar said. She held up The Adventures of Tom Bombadil and gave it an accusatory wobble. “I suspect your Frodo inserted him into the story to add some levity to his travels. He’s a folklore figure. A hobbit fairy tale. He’s not actually real.”

Sharkey frowned. “Isn’t he?”

There was another thoughtful pause. “I… thought so,” the Scholar muttered. “Up until just now, anyways.”

***

It turned into something like a pattern - Sharkey pretending to read some new book in the library, catching up on how the Scholar was doing. Sometimes this turned into the Scholar asking for clarification. Sometimes this was, “A later edition of this could really do with more mentions of Arwen,” or, “Look, just because Aragorn mentions the Beornings doesn’t mean that they can turn into bears.”

Then, somewhere in the middle of Blotmath:

“You’re - you’re asking me if my grandfather ever fucked Frodo.”

The Scholar shrugged. “I’m not necessarily suggesting that the two consumated the relationship, but if you look at the subtext-”

“My dear, sweet granddad, who loved my grandmother very much, and decided to leave for the Undying Lands the moment she died-”

“Well, who’s to say what happened before he got married? I’m just saying, it’s very convenient that Rosie only gets mentioned towards the end of the-”

“My lovely, gentle Grandpa Gamgee-”

The Scholar slapped a hand onto the table. “Your Grandpa Gamgee had a legendary virility among hobbits, and was considered for his time to be the most attractive hobbit in the Shire, Frodo would be insane not to get on that.”

“This is hell,” Sharkey said. “I’m in hell and you’re the devil. Everything makes sense now.”

The Scholar laughed, a clear, beautiful noise that set certain parts of Sharkey’s brain on fire. “I suppose hobbits don’t talk about that sort of thing, do they?”

“In the Old-Shire, definitely. But Undertowers is different.”

“How so?”

Sharkey shrugged. “It’s a new town,” she said. “When hobbits heard that there was a new place, a place away from the gossip, a lot of the ones who were disgraced in their old towns migrated over. A lot of that was for-” She made a vague gesture. “Travelling by ship with Gimli and Legolas, if you catch my meaning.”

The Scholar raised her eyebrows. “I had no idea.”

Sharkey puffed herself up, and pulled on the lapels of her jacket. “I pride myself as being the foremost authority on the subject.”

The Scholar leaned across the desk to her. Sharkey could suddenly see the little droplets of dried ink on her cheek, the shape of her lips, the thunderstorm in her grey eyes. “It’s a theory I’m… less experienced in, but certainly willing to study.”

The library was the biggest room in all of the Fairbairn Hallow, with ceilings that stretched up to a full ten feet. It was suddenly entirely too small and cramped to breathe in.

Sharkey licked her lips. “D’you - what do you say we get out of here and get a drink?”

***

The door to Elfstan’s study banged against the bookshelf built into the wall, dislodging a butterfly collection and Herblore of the Shire.

In the round doorway, significantly ruffled, gently swaying, and, an observer would have to be very close and deal with the very strong smell of hobbit-brewed whiskey to spot it, with dark lipstick smeared across one side of her mouth, was Sharkey.

“I AM,” she declared, “THE GREATEST HOBBIT WHO EVER LIVED.”

Elfstan apparently ignored her. “Write it down for posterity,” Sharkey continued. “On this, the sixteenth of Blotmath in the year 1487 (by Shire Reckoning), I, Fíriel Fairbairn, achieved the unachievable, and okay we just made out a little before she passed out, but that’s pretty good for me, and hey, why aren’t you paying attention?”

Her brother handed her a sheet with some scrawls across it. She read it, closing one eye to shut out the three other images swirling in her vision. “Sindarin,” she said flatly. “Oo-ee.” She looked closer.

“Are you sure?” she said, the dread chill of sobriety reaching its fingers into her hindbrain.

“I think so.”

Sharkey looked back at the sheet. “Damn,” she muttered.

***

The Scholar was up in the tower of Elostirion, apparently to see where the palantír had once been until it was put on the ship that carried Frodo and Gandalf off into the Undying Lands.

Hobbits said that they could see all the way to the Sea from the top of Elostirion. Sharkey was firmly of the opinion that they were full of crap, mostly because by the time she’d managed to get to the top of the tower, her mind was mostly preoccupied with not dying.

“Stairs,” she wheezed once she’d made it to the top of the tower.

The Scholar was looking out over the railing. She made a sound, not really laughing, more a puff of humour without any of the effort behind it. “The hangover’s probably not helping, is it?”

“Definitely not.” She walked towards the opposite railing. “Don’t mind me, I’m going to throw up over the side.”

“I would’ve thought you’d inherited your grandfather’s constitution,” said the Scholar behind her. It sounded like she was smiling.

Sharkey wheezed over the railing until her mouth stopped tasting like she’d gargled pennies. “Granddad never had to deal with stairs while hungover,” she said. “Confusticate and bebother, I don’t know how you did it.”

The Scholar made another sound like laughter. Sharkey wiped her mouth, looked out over the railing, and said, “But I reckon it must be different for half-elves.”

There was silence. A breeze drifted through the tower, Sea-borne warmth now chilling into proper wintery discomfort.

The Scholar sighed. “How did you find out?”

Sharkey nodded and turned. The Scholar was still looking out over the opposite railing. “Elfstan’s been studying Sindarin. ‘Unglittering Gold’ - ‘All that is gold does not glitter’ - it wasn’t really a subtle pseudonym.” She added, “Er - I mean, your high-”

“Don’t,” the Scholar said. “Please don’t. I’m not that, not here.”

Sharkey took the point. “I’d like to know your name, though,” she muttered. “Your real one.”

The Scholar of Gondor turned her head and gave Sharkey a sad little smile.

“Eldariel,” Eldariel said.

Sharkey nodded. “The princess-”

“No, Sharkey, I’m not. Not here.”

“But you are.” Sharkey suddenly felt like throwing up over the rail again. “Oh ye heavens, you’re the prin-”

Eldariel whipped around, grey and black cloak and dress swirling like a woolen thunderstorm. “No, I’m not. Not here, Sharkey, do you understand? Here, I’m a scholar. I can do what I want, study what I wish. That-” she waved a hand vaguely, “-person, that girl, she’s back in Gondor.”

She raked her fingers through her hair and took a deep, dramatic breath. “I am the daughter of King Elessar, the first daughter of the House of Telcontar. Do you know what that makes me?”

Sharkey considered this. “A pri-”

“Nothing, Sharkey. I’m nothing.” She made another noise like laughing, only this time there was no humour behind it. “Worse than that - I’m a token. An asset. Do you know what the name Fíriel is from? It’s from a princess of Gondor who was married off to Arvedui of Arnor and disappeared from history all together. That’s what the princess of Gondor is meant to do, just exist and be happy until you continue the family line.”

She turned back to the railing. When she spoke again, it sounded as though her voice was coming from very far away. “My brother will be the one who takes the throne, and he’ll be the one who’ll stay in history. Stories will be told about the great deeds he’ll do once Father passes and Mother fades away. He’ll go on great quests with Elboron and Elfwine, I have no doubt, and they’ll probably find the Entwives and the Beornings and maybe even the two Blue Wizards. And what will people what remember about me?”

Sharkey looked out over the railing. She didn’t know how far half-elf eyes could see, but for the first time in her life, she thought she could just spot the Sea.

She almost said: The tip of your nose wiggles when you talk.

You hold your forehead in your palm when you read.

You are personally offended by the concept of were-worms.

When you get frustrated, you run your fingers through your hair to try and make it as messy as you can. It never works.

When we got drunk together, we walked out on a snowy night and you started crying. Snowflakes were glittering gold in the lamplight, and you’d decided that it was the prettiest thing you’d ever seen.

Your first kiss felt like revenge against your parents, and I’m terrified to ask for a second kiss because it might taste like you falling in love with me.

At the same time she thought: But people won’t remember that. People don’t deserve to have those moments remembered, written down, because that version of you belongs to me.

But for now - and tomorrow - and forever - that’s what I’ll remember about you.

She said: “To hell with what other people remember about you.”

Eldariel looked over at her.

“To hell with what other people remember about you,” Sharkey said again, a bit more certainly this time. “Maybe centuries later, somewhere, someone’ll read ‘And Old Samwise had a granddaughter named Fíriel Fairbairn,’ and they’ll say, ‘Fíriel Fairbairn? I wonder who she was,’ and they’ll read, ‘And King Elessar had a daughter,’ and they’ll say, ‘I wonder what she did.’

“But by then it’s all a story, and people will forget the truth, or they’ll remember it accidentally, but in some way it’ll carry on. What’ll be important,” she reached up and took Eldariel’s hand in hers, “is what we do today.”

What happened next - who’s to say?

***

And maybe it happened And maybe it didn’t. Oh! Who is a hobbit to say Of those dirty codgers, Those damn gossip-dodgers, Who packed up and all went away.

- Chorus of a traditional Undertowers drinking song

#lord of the rings #lotr #tolkien #jrr tolkien #tolkien legendarium #the hobbit #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #technically no original characters #in that eldariel is a nameless character in the appendices #and firiel is mentioned once in a footnote in the forward of the adventures of tom bombadil #so #technically #wlw fanfic #narrativia

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secret-engima · 5 years

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Burn my Heart Out, Fili and Kili staunchly stand by Bilbo while he hovered near death. So staunchly they don’t notice that no one really wants to kill him, except maybe the greedy idiot down in Laketown. And then the Armies marched.

*slaps table* YES. Kili and Fili are Fussing™. Nobody wants to kill Bilbo, all the dwarves are freaking out because their Hobbit is actually a dragon and their dragon-Hobbit is DYING from wounds he got fighting SMAUG and they don’t know what to DO-.

Thorin is too busy going into Protecc Mode to really let the Gold Sickness take him, and as conflicted as he is that Bilbo is a DRAGON … he fought Smaug. He killed Smaug, he has gone through so much for them, he lies on the now-hard gold floor of the throne room where they tried to drown the evil drake and shivers while Oin struggles to learn Dragon Care right this exact second, mere inches form death, ALL FOR THEM. And there is a voice in his head, whispering that Bilbo just wants the gold, like all dragons, like all OUTSIDERS but he doesn’t listen, because when he looks at the dragon shivering on the floor (so much smaller than Smaug, so huge compared to elves or men or dwarves yet so TINY compared to the fire-drake and Thorin wonders how YOUNG Bilbo is by dragon years, if Thorin has dragged a child into war-) all he can see is Bilbo’s scared, heartbroken face as he chose to jump off the mountain and fight rather than sneak inside and claim the treasure that supposedly is the most wanted thing on middle earth. All he can see is his Burglar, his Hobbit, his FRIEND whisper “I’m so sorry”, like he thought his very existence was a sin against the Company and yet was going to reveal himself and fight for them (risk dying for them) anyway.

The Armies come because Thorin and the others are locked in their mountain refusing to interact with anyone, and at first Thorin ignores them, he has a half-dead Burglar and a two panicking nephews to deal with, he has no TIME-.

Then the man, Bard, reminds Thorin of his promise, and while Thorin will give NOTHING to the elves who have broken their vows and now expect riches they have not earned, he impatiently THROWS several sacks of gold over the makeshift wall at the Bowman, yells at him to GO AWAY now, because that’s plenty of gold to rebuild their damaged lake town, or even Dale itself, three times over.

Bard blinks down at the sacks of gold and jewels in astonishment, having expected to have to fight for it.

But Thranduil will not be dissuaded, and Bard has entered into pact with the elf for them to BOTH get their desired treasures and so the two armies kinda … camp out outside the mountain, vainly trying to ignore the giant dragon corpse not far from the camp and the knowledge that there is ANOTHER dragon just waiting to come out and kill them on Thorin’s word (so they think).

Gandalf shows up, warning direly of the Goblin army coming to kill them all and demands to see his Burglar, Thorin and the dwarves, at this point horribly paranoid that anyone but them will try to kill Their Dragon Burglar, basically yell at Gandalf to Stuff It and Leave. Gandalf is horribly insulted, lineages are thrown around (G: ”Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror of the line of Durin OPEN THIS GATE THIS INSTANT and let me see my Burglar!” T: “SHAN’T.”)

More dire warnings of goblins armies happen when Legolas and Tauriel (I loved her addition to the movie DON’T @ ME) show up talking about what they’ve seen and then Dain Ironfoot shows up FOR SOME REASON and it looks like everyone is going to throw hands with everyone else when the Goblins Army shows up and the Elves, Men, and Dwarves eyeball each other and go “yea let’s fight the goblins and orcs first and then deal with each other” and so the Battle of Five Armies happens.

Thorin and his company (sans Oin because someone needs to take care of the still-unconscious dragon) burst out epically to help fight and shenanigans LOOK like they’re going to end in tragedy again-.

Until Everyone hears frantic hysterical dwarvish cursing.

From above.

Also that is a very dragon like shadow forming on the ground WE’VE GOT INCOMING-.

Bilbo, still kinda whoozy and sick and weak from fighting Smaug but awake and firmly in Dragon Protective Rage crashes down onto the ice where Azog is threatening to kill Fili just to spite Thorin, a swearing, white-knuckled Oin on his back from where he’d been trying to STOP the injured dragon-burglar, and Bilbo proceeds to rampage his way to victory and happy endings because Smaug might have almost killed him but nothing save a dragon can kill another dragon, even an injured one. Azog dies, Fili, Kili, and Thorin live, Kili gets to impulse kiss his elf crush (and she kisses back! Kili is a Joy). None of the company die because Bilbo rampages through the goblin army while the men and elves and dain’s gang all collectively blue screen and then Bilbo promptly snatches up his dwarves plus Tauriel because she was kissing Kili at the time, flies back into the mountain, and passes out again.

Gandalf takes advantage of the gaping hole in the door to storm in and ask WHAT JUST HAPPENED.

Thorin has no idea. He thought the wizard would no. Bilbo don’t you DARE go and die on him after saving his life twice over and killing both of his most hated enemies for him. Don’t you DARE.

Considering Thranduil is not the type to throw hands with a dragon, the elf army kindly buzzes off, Dain gets nearly mauled by angry relatives for asking if Thorin is going to kill the new dragon while it’s down, and when Bilbo wakes up a lot of stories are exchanged and tears shed and Thorin declares that Bilbo is welcome to stay in Erebor FOREVER all things considered and Bilbo cries because his hoard still wants him and his king is offering him a proper home and den and Bilbo is a very emotional person by nature.

So in the end, Erebor is still inhabited by a dragon, but this one is much more friendly and helpful and tends to go around in the shape of a Hobbit most of the time since that makes it easier to fit through doors.

Also at some point Bilbo remembers that stupid, cursed ring he found a while back and speed flies over to the hottest volcano he can find since that’s the surest way to destroy cursed objects and since the Ring Wraiths don’t have dragons yet, all Sauron can do is screech pathetically from his eyeball tower as a bright green and yellow dragon flies over to Mount Doom and yeets the Ring into it.

Bilbo doesn’t even notice the tower collapsing behind him in spasms of Evilz™, he’s going to be late for Kili’s wedding if he doesn’t hurry up.

It’s only way later when ambassadors from Gondor show up to reverently ask after the dragon that “slew the greatest of evils” that Bilbo blinks twice, remembers the falling, screaming tower of strange fiery eyeballs, and says that wasn’t HIS doing, he was only there to throw a cursed ring into the volcano.

Gandalf in the corner drinking his wine:

#SE asks #anon asks #Secret Engima Rambles #Burn My Heart Out verse #hobbit au #bilbo dragon #let me have my happy endings

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avelera · 5 years

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@angel-starbeam asked for a Bagginshield prompt where Thorin and Bilbo finally plant the acorn and I’m not sure if it was meant or a happy or sad prompt but I just COULDN’T make a sad prompt out of it, so here’s some domestic Bagginshield fluff!

word count: ~1,000 words

Bag End was quiet but for the crackling of the hearth as a drowsy contentment settled upon the room. Bilbo sat curled up with a book in his familiar, hard-won armchair across from Thorin, lost in his own world.

It had been a month now since they’d reached the Shire from over the Misty Mountains, only to discover Bilbo’s home ransacked and his furniture, of all things, auctioned off to various greedy relatives and townsfolk. This fact had done little to improve Thorin’s view of the sleepy village in which he had agreed to spend the rest of his life with Bilbo, leaving Erebor in the hands of his nephews with a clean slate free of their uncle’s misdeeds. This was the first night of peace he and Bilbo had, after the flurry of polite requests and flat-out intimidation (as well as the occasional bribe) required to re-furnish Bag End, a month they had spent for all practical purposes camping out on Bilbo’s floor with their bedrolls piled beside one another in front of the hearth.

He could see the lack of tension in Bilbo’s bearing, as he seemed truly engrossed in his book and not simply flipping the pages angrily while trying to distract himself, a distraction that usually failed and ended in another explosive rant that Thorin entertained with good humor and no small amount of sympathetic irritation on Bilbo’s behalf. Thorin knew he’d been surly enough during his own quest to reclaim his homeland, he could hardly judge Bilbo in return for fits of temper upon finding his own home ransacked by dragons of a less fearsome sort.

They were home. Home in a way they never could have been had they remained in Erebor. Thorin knew now that the palace of his childhood would only ever be a tomb for him. That his quest was best served as a gift to the next generation of Durin’s Folk, and he was content in passing the great city on to their stewardship. During those weeks of darkness and dragon sickness, when visions of gold swam before his hazy vision, and after during the intermittent nightmares of his sickbed while he recovered from his wounds, it was visions of Bilbo’s green home, dimly remembered, that soothed Thorin. Bilbo’s promise that there would be peace for him there, at the end of the long road.

“We should plant the acorn,” Thorin mused aloud. Bilbo started and looked up from his book. His brow furrowed in confusion, so Thorin clarified, “From Beorn’s house, the one you kept. We should plant it in your garden.”

“In our garden,” Bilbo corrected as if by reflex but his expression twisted unusually for what Thorin thought was the innocent nature of the statement. “Err, yes, about that…”

“Or elsewhere?” Thorin frowned. “If you fear it will do damage to your prized tomatoes.”

“What? No! I, that is, I realize that acorn meant a great deal to you, Thorin, and to me, of course, a great deal, in fact, so much so that I, err, already… planted it in, ah… Dale.”

“In Dale,” Thorin said blankly.

“Well, yes, you see,” Bilbo’s book slid from his lap as he began to fidget, tapping the tips of his fingers together and looking everywhere that wasn’t at Thorin. “It’s not as if I knew then that you would tell me to plant it here, on what was very nearly your deathbed, my dear. I hadn’t the faintest that you took that little encounter so seriously or, good heavens, that you even remembered it, distracted as you were at the time by, err, by the gold and all that…”

“Be that as it may,” Thorin interrupted, “you said you wished to plant it in your garden, once you returned home. Why in Durin’s name would you plant it in Dale?” Had Bilbo some unexpressed wish to settle down in the town of Men that Thorin was only just learning of? He felt flat-footed at the thought, that he understood Bilbo so little, that Thorin might have insisted they return to the Shire against Bilbo’s wishes.

Bilbo flushed. “I… thought I was going to, err, IthoughtIwasgoingtodie.”

“What?”

Bilbo straightened. “I thought I was going to die! There, are you happy? I planted it in Dale in the midst of the battle because I couldn’t see how any of us were going to make it through another suicidal charge! The thought of it ending up lost or, heaven forbid, boiled up in some goblin soup pot when they ate us all after was too horrific to be borne, and if we did make it I wanted whoever survived to see it! To know it was there to know… that there’s light after the darkness, and even those who set out to die that day had hope.” Bilbo ducked his head. “And then after, when you asked after it, when I thought you were… that you were dying, I didn’t have the heart tell you it was already planted.”

“…Bilbo,” Thorin said softly and chuckled under his breath as he rose from his chair and went over to place a hand around Bilbo’s shoulders while the hobbit continued to look away, flushing to the tips of his ears. Thorin bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, which drew Bilbo’s gaze up. “I don’t know why you waited so long to tell me. There’s no shame in what comfort a warrior takes on the battlefield to see himself through. I only ever meant that I wished you to lead a long, happy life, even if I wasn’t there to see it.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Bilbo muttered. “Though if you truly thought that I would have been happy that day or any other if I’d buried you in Erebor, then I’d say you were hit harder on the head by that Pale Orc than we realized.”

Thorin’s hand tightened on Bilbo’s shoulder and Bilbo’s hand crept up to grasp it in return. “Fortunately for me, I had the services of a most excellent burglar to see me through.”

“Fortunately for you?” Bilbo scoffed, then sighed. “I do truly hope you’re not upset.”

“Not upset, only jealous of the Men of Dale. Perhaps we can visit one day, and see what has become of that little seed,” Thorin murmured, a faint smile twisting at the corner of his lips, one answered by Bilbo as he glanced up.

“I would like that.”

----

Author Note: This fic referenced the BotFA deleted scene, where Bilbo planted the acorn in Dale. I think it’s good that they took it out, as it would have undermined Thorin’s request to Bilbo to plant the acorn at Bag End, but I couldn’t resist it as an amusing twist on the prompt.

#bagginshield #thilbo #my writing

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curriebelle · 6 years

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Where Law and Chaos Came From: a D&D History Lesson

I’ve seen a few interesting posts about Dungeons and Dragons alignments that all share two interesting commonalities:

1) They think the two-axis system of Law vs Chaos and Good vs Evil is too restrictive for people who like to roleplay. 2) They try to redeem the two-axis system by redefining Law and Chaos in ways that make sense to them personally.

Good and Evil aren’t usually a topic of debate on these posts - it’s easy enough to play a character as generally doing the right thing or as being a total bastard. Discussion on acts of more debatable morality (e.g. torturing a villain for vital information, killing an innocent person by accident, sacrificing one for the good of all) tends to veer towards whether the action itself qualifies as good or evil, and not whether good and evil themselves need to be redefined. Conversely, I’ve seen Law and Chaos rewritten as Community vs Individuality, Tradition vs Cultural Mutability, Authority vs Anarchy - all interesting ideas that tend to reflect more on the person writing them than the actual purpose of the Law vs Chaos axis.

I’m not saying these people are wrong, but that these players (as well as the fine folks who wrote the 5e Handbooks) are placing too much significance on the purpose or intention of Law vs Chaos. The historical secret is that Law vs Chaos alignment never had any deep meaning behind it - or, at least, it never had any meaning deeper than the Pittsburgh Penguins versus the Vancouver Canucks.

I’ll explain how, but it requires a bit of a history lesson. The idea of Lawful and Chaotic alignments - as well as a number of other cornerstones of Dungeons and Dragons - came from a different game: a miniature wargame called Chainmail. It’s time for a deep dive.

In 1970, before he helped create Dungeons and Dragons, Gary Gygax developed a ruleset for modeling Medieval-Era battles using miniatures. Miniatures were organized into opposing armies, and the modeled battles were long, drawn-out math sessions, preoccupied with calculating distances, damages, casualties and morale. If you’ve ever played or seen Warhammer 40k, it’s a lot like that, except with English Longbowmen instead of Space Marines.

The purpose of Chainmail was to recreate historical battles, and so the gameplay mechanics were painfully precise, with rules for weather, terrain, and siege weapons. Only at the tail end of the Chainmail rulebook, in a tiny ten-page appendix, did Gygax include the rules that would become the basis for all of Dungeons and Dragons. This was the Chainmail Fantasy Supplement.

Even in the Fantasy Supplement, the purpose was still to recreate battles. The second edition of Chainmail - the oldest version I could find, from 1971 - instructs players on how to “refight the epic struggles related by J.R.R. Tolkein...and other fantasy writers”, only suggesting that the player could “create [their] own world” as an afterthought. Chainmail’s fantasy supplement was made so LOTR nerds could re-create the battles of Helm’s Deep or Pelennor Fields, down to the walking trees and boulder-throwing trolls.

Still, a couple of fun details are kicking around in those ten pages. Even back then, fireball and lightning bolt spells were the main tools in the wizards’ arsenals. Dragons and other powerful fantasy creatures could only be hit with magic weapons - an immunity that lingers on some powerful D&D monsters to this day. Even the colour varieties of dragons were introduced here, and they’ve remained largely unchanged for nearly half a century now:

“White Dragons live in cold climates and breathe frost. Black Dragons are tropical and spit caustic acid. The Blue variety discharges a bolt of electricity. Green Dragons waft poisonous vapours--chlorine--at their opponents”

Classic! (I did omit the mottled purple dragon with the poisonous stinger, but those stuck around too - they’re just called wyverns now).

At the very end of the fantasy supplement, you can find the following list:

I’m not sure why Gygax thought it was “impossible to draw a distinct line between “good” and “evil” here - honestly, this looks like a pretty straightforward good-neutral-evil list to me, but there you are. So Goblins, Orcs, Balrogs and Dragons are CHAOS, and Hobbits (who became Halflings later once copyright started getting huffy), Heroes, Ents and Magic Weapons (?) are LAW. Wizards can be either LAW or CHAOS; Elves are neutral (but kinda lawful sometimes); and apparently there are Super Heroes in the Lawful camp (Gygax describes them earlier as “like Conan”.)

The purpose of dividing these units into Law or Chaos is not to dictate how they are played, but what team they will play for in the conflict. That’s why I made my hockey analogy earlier: all Law and Chaos defined back then was what team you played for. So, by these rules, if you were building a Lawful Army and your buddy built a Chaos Army, you would both be able to add wizards to your team, but your buddy would have exclusive rights to dragons. You’d be able to add magic weapons, but your buddy couldn’t. Moreover, if you decided to hold a fight in a forest full of pixies and werewolves, you would actually roll off to determine which side those Neutral creatures would join.

If Law and Chaos did have any deeper meaning in this context, it sometimes dictated how the units behaved. Units of orcs would attack other units of orcs if they failed an obedience check; dragons, being “evil and egotistical”, always had to attack the biggest, most badass targets first. With rules like that, commanding those armies would be more ‘chaotic’, while the lawful side could generally be trusted to obey the commands of the player.

So at worst, the Chainmail law vs chaos axis is a purely logistical division that dictates which units get to join which teams; at its most #deep, it characterizes the combat behaviour of some military units. I think this is probably also the source of D&D racism, e.g. “all orcs are chaotic evil”. That’s a rule that makes much more sense when you’re trying to divvy up the teams in an extremely complex wargame, because you’re looking at orcs en masse, and you’re not too interested in the personalities of individual units.

So, the alignment system does make some sense in Chainmail, where it originated. Here’s where I show you exactly how much influence Chainmail had on D&D and how it struggled to transfer this concept of alignment in a meaningful way.

The “first edition” of D&D - at least the one most of us would recognize as D&D - is officially called Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. That’s the 1977 version in which players create an adventuring party. (It’s called “Advanced” because a “Basic” edition was also released, strictly for levels 1-3). There was actually one other, earlier edition of D&D, which was released in 1974. It was intended to be another Chainmail expansion, so much so that you needed the Chainmail rulebook to play it!

I’m going to ignore that edition, though, since 1) it’s pretty hard to find the rulebook, 2) AD&D was where the game found its own identity anyway and 3) The AD&D handbook is hilariously bizarre, especially when dealing with player morality.

You might know of some of the weirdness of AD&D alignments already. For example, certain classes had to be certain alignments. Paladins were always lawful good; druids were always true neutral. Assassins were automatically evil, and thieves could not be good. Weirdly enough, all monks were lawful - I guess because they adhered to the traditions of their vaguely-east-asian dojos. (By the way, this means that everybody’s favourite Feather Leather Fashionista, Vax’ildan the dual-classed Rogue/Paladin, is a mechanical impossibility in Advanced Dungeons and Dragons.)

It’s easy to see how this move was just an ungainly step forward from Chainmail. Again, this is Gygax telling you what teams your characters must play for - what armies they would join if this were a Chainmail game - without recognizing that the need for an alignment system has basically vanished. We're not picking our fantasy kickball teams anymore; everyone is on the same team, adventuring together, and all an alignment system becomes in that context is a hindrance.

And oh was alignment ever a hindrance in AD&D. Each alignment was a moral code of sorts, but it was also a language. Chaotic Neutral characters shared a language that only Chaotic Neutral characters could understand. Assassins could learn to speak other alignment-languages as they leveled up (or Druidic, if they wanted to be nerds I guess), but if you changed alignment in any way you would lose access to your previous alignment language. This makes absolutely zero sense. Worse still, if you committed an act that didn’t fit with your alignment, it would screw you over mechanically. If a paladin ever willingly committed an evil act they straight-up lost their healing powers and become regular fighters FOREVER. Even if they did something a little bit chaotic, they lost their powers until they could pray the cray away with the help of a lawful good cleric. The book even vaguely suggests that alignment shifting in other classes be met with “great penance”. You’re not allowed to be an assassin again until you do enough poison murders! We’re taking your poison away!

The book describes each individual alignment, but not with any subtlety. This is long before the game itself grasped that the most fun part of tabletop roleplay is the roleplaying, and alignment rules still seem to recall the behaviour of army units rather than the behaviour of individuals. Chaos - as is usually the case - is the alignment that suffers most. The Chaotic Good description gets a nice Robin Hood-y bent, the Chaotic Evil one is the “carnage is good” mantra you’d expect - but here’s Chaotic Neutral:

“Above respect for life and good, or disregard for life and the promotion of evil, the chaotic neutral places randomness and disorder. Good and evil are complimentary balance arms. Neither are preferred, nor must either prevail, for ultimate chaos would then suffer.”

Leaving aside the misuse of the word “complimentary” (you’re looking for complementary, Gygax) and the poorly-structured first sentence - yeah, that’s what the big secret of Chaos is, apparently. It’s not rebellion or individuality (which get championed in the Chaotic Good description), it’s pure, unadulterated, dice-rolling randomness. “Fuck it” made manifest. Don’t think about it too hard, because it doesn’t make any sense, and it will take you down a (fittingly) chaotic wormhole of self-contradiction.

Lawful Neutral and True Neutral are weird, too. Both are described as pursuing the absolute harmony of the word, but like...you know, in different ways. There’s also a bizarre association between goodness and beauty. “Life and beauty are of great importance”, says the Lawful Good blurb. Does this mean that Delilah Briarwood, Wildemount’s hottest necromancer, is Lawful Good after all? shucks.

It’s pretty clear that AD&D is the awkward gangly phase between wargaming and genuine tabletop roleplay, with lots of weird vestigial features and obnoxiously pedantic mechanics that would later be dropped. For some reason, despite the fact that it never made sense to begin with, alignment wasn’t one of those mechanics - or at least it tended to vanish as a mechanic and then come back again in later editions, slightly different but never fixed. This led to another awkward gangly phase at the turn of the millennium, when D&D rules were adapted into games like Baldur’s Gate or Planescape Torment. Alignment creates fallacies and failures everywhere in those games. If you play Evil in Baldur’s Gate, the game can become basically unwinnable, as NPCs begin to attack you on sight. The way to bond with the Chaotic Neutrals in Planescape Torment is to literally spout gibbering nonsense at a man on the street until he barks at you. Even on Critical Role, with its 5e gameplay and extremely talented dungeon master, alignment feels like an arbitrary interloper rather than an important part of the game. Percy stays Good even after torturing a teenager, but Vex goes Neutral for stealing a broom. Nobody in their right mind would believe Fjord is Lawful Good because of his deception and warlockery, but he technically hasn’t violated the LG handbook so far.

So because of these repeated failures to use alignment in a compelling way, I see a lot of people hunting for the right way to do alignments, the right way to understand chaos, law, neutrality and the like. They want alignments to fit. But they never did fit. The truth?

Two-axis alignment is stupid, and it always has been.

Honestly, I don’t see the benefit in remedying two-axis alignment as a system. I have my own re-interpretation of chaos that I like fairly well, and I’ve seen a few compelling ones, but I also think that alignment could use a complete makeover. There are some fun examples of morality systems that I’m sure DMs could experiment with, if they so wished.

You could steal from Ultima IV, for example. The Ultima series was a product of the early days of the computer/tabletop romance - and by early I mean 1980s early. Ultima IV does not use the alignment system: instead, it lets the player ‘train’ in eight virtues to achieve ultimate avatar awesomeness. The virtues are Honesty, Compassion, Valor, Justice, Honor, Sacrifice, Spirituality, and Humility, further divided into the camps of Truth, Love, and Courage. Maybe angels of each of those virtues have corresponding devils (Deception! Cruelty! Cowardice! Injustice! Dishonor! Greed! Blasphemy! Pride!). That could be one way to play with morality without worrying about chaos or law.

I’m also a fan of Pillars of Eternity’s spectra of dispositions, which fit loosely into pairs (not necessarily good or evil pairs, mind you). Benevolent or Cruel, Stoic or Passionate, Honest or Deceptive, Clever or Rational, Diplomatic or Aggressive. Heck, those remind me of the personality sliders in the Sims. What were those again, like - Grumpy/Nice, Playful/Serious, etc?

Those trying to give alignments the benefit of the doubt often suggest that alignments were created to help people roleplay. That’s not...entirely untrue, it’s just misleading. They were created to help people make gameplay decisions, but they were pulled from a different kind of game altogether. It’s like trying to play checkers with chess pieces, and it always has been. The D&D alignment system doesn’t work for D&D because it wasn’t designed for it - it was designed for wargaming. We probably should have just chucked the whole thing instead of enshrining it in nerd culture, but it’s too late for that. Still, our creative energy now would be better spent on a new morality system that actually gives us a thing or two to think about.

#dungeons and dragons #tabletop roleplaying #critical role #currie academia #cuz i learned most of this researching Stuff

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garden-ghoul · 7 years

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the bloggit, part 2

“sorry I had to do the converse. now taking hobbit blog name suggestions.”

ROAST MUTTON

Let me tell you, gentle reader. I had no idea what mutton was when I first read this book. I have never liked meat, but I think I assumed in this chapter that mutton was something really good so I like, imagined a meat that would be tolerable. Does mutton even appear in this?

Bilbo gets up and goes to the kitchen, where “the washing-up was so dismally real that Bilbo was forced to believe the party of the night before had not been part of his bad dreams.” I have a problem where sometimes I stop reading halfway through a sentence if I think it’s funnier that way, so I just read “the washing-up was so real” and was like “yeah same. isn’t it funny how Tolkien already mastered modern slang? just like he predicted texting. amazing, that.” Bilbo is both pleased and disappointed to realize that all the dwerrows have gone, but he decides it’s for the best. No sooner has he started whistling about it than Gandalf turns up to tell him off for not dusting the fucking mantelpiece instead of doing the massive pile of dishes he’s got. If you had DUSTED THE MANTELPIECE like any REASONABLE HOMEOWNER does EVERY MORNING, you would have found the note they left you!!

The note begins:

Thorin and Company to Burglar Bilbo greeting!

Holy shit. I love this. It’s less pronounced in the rest of the letter, but I’m so jazzed about this weird syntax obviously a word-for-word translation from Khuzdul. The rest of it is a snide assurance that Bilbo will get precisely what he deserves, in the form of an outline of terms and services. Also get your ass over to the Green Dragon in ten minutes. Bilbo does so only because Gandalf is there breathing down his neck; I imagine that otherwise he would have stared at the letter and dithered until it was too late and the dwerrows had left.

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

Yours deeply. More Khuzdul formalities. The good stuff. Please Tolkien, I beg you, tell me what precisely ‘yours deeply’ means! Does it have to do with sincerity? Is deepness correlated to politeness or status? WHAT?

Bilbo makes it to the Green Dragon at precisely the stroke of 11... but he has forgot his pocket handkerchief. His pockerchief. Guys It’s A Metaphor.

"Don't be precise," said Dwalin, "and don't worry! You will have to manage without pocket-handkerchiefs, and a good many other things, before you get to the journey's end. As for a hat, I have got a spare hood and cloak in my luggage."

Time to travel like a dwerrow! Anyway that’s very gracious of Dwalin, I feel. Seems like a nice guy. Wait Gandalf turns up after they’ve been riding for like 10 minutes and totally ruins the metaphor by bringing a bunch of spare pockerchiefs and Bilbo’s pipe. Bilbo thinks the adventure is really going all right so far! Staying at inns and whatnot. It stands in stark contrast to the beginning of Frodo’s journey, which aside from being dangerous, mysterious, and nerve-wracking was also given a great deal more narrative weight. I think The Hobbit is told in a much more episodic format than Lord of the Rings, kind of like “here is a series of adventures that happened to Bilbo on the way, one per chapter.”

The adventure grows less pleasant once they’re away from inns and it starts raining. That’s spring, dudes. Everyone is grumpy and tired and it’s wet and they can’t make a fire; Gandalf is missing; one of the ponies gets scared of nothing (or something??) and runs into the river and gets washed away along with a bunch of the food. Out of boredom and desperation the dwerrows decide to sneak up on what they think is a fire; they send Bilbo, since he as a hobbit is much much quieter than them. It’s trolls! They’re eating mutton and drinking alcoholic beverages, and and they have names like William and Bert. Why are they so relentlessly English.

Bilbo, the dumbass, tries to pick one of their pockets because he really wants to be that kind of guy. He is immediately caught. But it’s fine! The trolls start fighting over, uh, well, something, and Bilbo makes his escape. Unfortunately dwerrows are quite visible; Balin comes to try and rescue Bilbo, and the trolls see him. Into sacks with them! Thorin comes last, and tries to be intimidating, which I’m sure would work a lot better if he weren’t one tenth the trolls’ size. He gets caught too, but at least he fought. That’s our Oakenshield!

It says here that Gandalf is back, but he’s just watching. Bilbo isn’t a fighter and he’s terrified--what’s your excuse? Or maybe he’s the one doing troll voice imitations and inflaming their argument about how to eat the dwerrows. Ohhh Gandalf was stalling for time since it was nearly dawn. All right I can accept that that would be much easier on him.

The party goes to find the trolls’ cave and finds a bunch of good stuff inside: extra food and some swords and gold (which is buried with lots of spells. hey! tell me about dwerrow spells!). And we hear that the reason Gandalf came back from his scouting expedition is that he met some Rivendell elves who told him there were trolls about. And so!

A SHORT REST

One morning they forded a river at a wide shallow place full of the noise of stones and foam.

Hey I love this. The noise of stones, and foam. Also:

Hidden somewhere ahead of us is the fair valley of Rivendell where Elrond lives in the Last Homely House.

The Last Homely House. Tolkien’s mythology sounds really good here. Wonder who named it that, though! Is it sort of... the last dwelling of elves that is both homely and a house? I would expect it’s a name applied by travellers, though: the last sanctuary before wherever you happen to be going, since there’s nothing anywhere near it, really. There’s also a track marked with white stones around the edges, which is really good. More excellent landscape description that didn’t make it into Fellowship because of how desperate our heroes were at this point in their journey. I just realized that since Frodo entered Rivendell unconscious we never got a description of what it looked like, either.

It’s a valley largely full of trees and murmuring water, but a light can be seen, at twilight, on the other side. Bilbo thinks it smells like elves. And then it’s time for one of the most iconic songs Tolkien has ever written: a distant “tra-la-la-lally!” echoes to our heroes’ ears. As we know, dwerrows don’t get along with elves (elves make fun of them a lot, and generally do silly bullshit most of the time) but Thorin is as polite as he can be. Bilbo wants to stay and listen to the elves singing, but supper is more important for everyone else, so onward to Rivendell! They stay for two weeks, and nothing much happens except they gradually get less stressed and replenish their fat reserves. Elrond is mentioned as an ‘elf-friend,’ which is kind of a weird thing to say about him considering that half his family are elves, and he’s immortal?

Elrond tells them that the swords they looted from trollhaus were made in Gondolin! (for the goblin wars, which, idk, that probably describes most of the first age) And the swords have names, because of course they do. This is the source of Glamdring and Orcrist, now we know! Also Elrond looks at the map and identifies some Moons Runes that say a special thing will show up on the mountain on Durin’s Day, which is an astronomical phenomenon the dwerrows haven’t been keeping careful track of, I guess? I can’t tell whether the fact that Durin’s Day is the start of the year actually has anything to do with the astronomical thing.

“We still call it Durin's Day when the last moon of Autumn and the sun are in the sky together. But this will not help us much, I fear, for it passes our skill in these days to guess when such a time will come again."

This seems pretty straightforward actually. The moon and the sun are in the sky together like, half the time the sun is up. All you need to know is when autumn ends and what the phase of the moon will be. Y’all have really let your calendar-keeping go.

#I like autumn new year #blog of the rings

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berjhawn · 7 years

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Elastic Heart - Part 1 - An Unexpected Journey

Warnings: Mentions of Rape, Abuse, Sexual content, ETC

Pairings: Hobbit X OFC; LOTR X OFC: Thranduil x OFC; Fili X OFC

Parts:

Prologue

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had become a type of amusement for my captors. Every night I was raped by a different man. This went on for weeks until they made a mistake. One tiny mistake thinking I had just given up. They were sadly mistaken. When night fell I slaughtered every last one of them, taking their swords and horses, and leaving their dead carcasses for the Wargs.

I rode back to where they had found me and found nothing of my father’s body. That made me happy and sad all at the same time. I hoped and prayed that the elves had taken him back with them. I rode like the wind toward Amon Lanc. It took me months to reach the capitol city, home to Oropher and Thranduil.

As I stared at the great gates of the woodland realm I felt a smile cross my face. I had lost my father but hopefully I hadn’t lost Thranduil. I climbed off the horse I had stolen from my captors and tying it to a nearby tree I pull the hood of my cloak over my head. I wanted to keep my hair a secret until I was able to speak to my friend. When I reach the door I look around to see that the elves were jubilant and celebrating.

I slowly walk over to a nearby elf and say, “What is going on?” The elf raises an eyebrow at my appearance before saying, “The Prince Thranduil is getting married today.” I gulp down a breath of air as I feel my heart clench. I give the elf a polite nod as I slowly make my way through the huge crowd celebrating their prince’s recent nuptials. I reach a close enough spot and looking forward see my friend Thranduil standing there a smile on his face as he stares at his new wife.

She was beautiful; her long blonde hair cascaded down her back like silk. I felt tears fill my eyes as I realize that even if I had made it sooner I wouldn’t have been his wife. I was tainted now, sullied by the desires of mortal men. With one last look at him I silently wish him happiness before I turn around and head out of the front gates not even glancing back toward them. I quickly climb back onto my horses back and without a second glance ride far away from the woodland realm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was no longer the beautiful enchanting daughter of one of the last descendants of Fëanor. I was Randír, roughly translated to the Wanderer. I could never be Melethril ever again. For centuries I lived off the land. I stayed away from people both mortal and non. As the years passed people began to fear me; saying a mysterious hooded being, preyed on bandits, goblins, Trolls, and Orcs; and killing them mercilessly. I avoided people as much as I could until one day a wizard wondered onto my path.

I watch him like a hawk as I hide in my perch like a bird. “Mae Govannen Hiril Vuin Melethril.”

I hear him say and I narrow my eyes before jumping down and saying, “That is not my name Mithrandir.”

He smiles as he turns to me and says, “But it was once, a long time ago.”

“What brings you to my neck of the woods?” I ask as I gently place my hand on the hilt of my elven sword, Ithildin.

The wizard smirks as he says, “I have need of your expertise,”

I raise an eyebrow as I say, “With?”

He reaches into his grey cloak and pulls out a map. Holding it out to me he says, “If you are willing, meet me on the location marked the day after tomorrow.”

I eye the map and a smirk fills my face as I say, “The Shire? What sort of adventure is this?”

“An unexpected one.” He says before turning and walking away. “Oh and the person you must seek out is Bilbo Baggins.” I nod before I turn back to his map. What type of adventure did he have in mind and why did he want my help? Deciding since I had nothing better to do I follow the map and quickly make my way to Hobbiton.

When I arrived in the Shire it was dark and I groan in annoyance as I search for the hobbit Bilbo’s home. I was so busy looking around that I didn’t notice a dwarf walking in my direction also mot paying attention. WHAM!

“AH!” I cry out as fall back onto my back. “You should watch where you’re going!” I hear the dwarf say and I raise an eyebrow as I say, “You are one to talk, you ran into me as well!” He lets out a sigh as he holds his hand out for me to take. Letting out a sigh I reach up and taking his hand let him pull me to my feet. He was tall for a dwarf and his long raven hair had tints of grey in it.

“You are much taller than any Hobbit I’ve ever met.” He says and I sigh as I say, “That’s because I’m not a Hobbit. They call me Randír, what may I ask is your name?”

He pauses for a moment before he says, “Thorin,”

I give him a polite smile as I say, “Are you familiar with this place because I am lost? I am trying to reach the home of Bilbo Baggins.”

He stares at me for a moment before he says, “I am also looking for the home of one Bilbo Baggins.”

“Shall we look for him together?” I ask as I dust the dirt of my backside. I watch as he stares at me for a moment before nodding. I silently think to myself that he is being a little strange but quickly put it to the back of my mind as we walk along.

“I take it Gandalf sought you out for this quest?” He asks after a few moments and I nod as I reply, “I do not know the details, only that he needs my skills; and I have nothing better to do.” I watch as he stares ahead until we come to the last home on the hill. I look at the door and seeing the mark say, “I guess this is it.”

“Indeed it is,” He says and I watch as he walks forward and knocks on the door. A few minutes later I watch as the small round door slowly opens to reveal a young male hobbit standing in the doorway. “Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. We wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.” Thorin says as the two of us walk through the door.

“Mark? There’s no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!” Bilbo says and I raise my eyebrow as I stare at all the dwarves sitting in the next room.

“There is a mark; I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield; and our guide, Randír.”

“So, this is the Hobbit. Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?” Thorin asks and I stand back watching them.

“Pardon me?” Biblo asks his face turning confused.

“Axe or sword? What’s your weapon of choice?” Thorin asks as he stares at the young hobbit.

“Well, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that’s relevant.” Bilbo says and I sigh as Thorin says, “Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” The dwarves all laugh, and they walk back to the dining table. I keep Gandalf in the main hall as I say, “Burglar? Why do you need a burglar?”

The grey wizard smirks as he says, “You shall see, but first would you like some food?” I raise an eyebrow but sigh as I say, “Sure.”

As Thorin and I eat, the rest of the dwarves talk to him. I sit quietly my ears hidden beneath my hair as I survey the room. There was a total of thirteen dwarves in all. They sure were a loud bunch. It had been centuries since I had been this close to dwarves. My father had been very close with the dwarven blacksmiths of Khazad-dûm before his death, I was definitely not unused to dwarves but it was definitely a reawakening.

As I look around at all the dwarves I find my attention lingers upon one of the younger dwarves. His hair and beard was a golden color which was strange for a dwarf. They usually had black, red, or brown hair; but I had never seen a blonde one. I couldn’t help but stare at him in curiousness. Before he is able to catch me staring I look back down at my plate and suddenly a faint memory of the last time I had eaten a meal with others fills my mind and I find that I am no longer hungry. Sliding my plate away I fight the urge to throw my dinner back up.

As the dwarves talk amongst themselves I stand up and slowly walk out of the small clustered room. I needed air. I look around and suddenly feel like the walls are closing in on me. I am about to walk outside when I hear one of the dwarves say to Bilbo, “And are you?”

Bilbo stares at him confused for a moment before he says, “Am I what?”

“He said he’s an expert! Hey, hey!” Another of the dwarves says causing the others to laugh. I take a deep breath as I try to calm my nerves as they continue their conversations.

“M-Me? No, no, no, no, no. I’m not a burglar; I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.” He says and I nod in agreement. He lived far too nicely to have ever even left his home.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He’s hardly burglar material.” Balin says as Bilbo nods in agreement.

“Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.” Dwalin says and Bilbo continues nodding in agreement; Causing the dwarves to begin arguing. Gandalf, growing angry, rises to his full height and casts darkness over the group as starts speaking in his “powerful” voice. The others stop in awe. I rub my forehead in annoyance as I contemplate telling Gandalf to find someone else to help him.

“Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is.” Gandalf says as he goes back to his normal self. “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There’s a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he’s got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself. You must trust me on this.”

“Very well. We will do it your way.” Thorin says and I watch as Bilbo says, “No, no, no.”

“Give him the contract.” Thorin says as he sits back down at the table.

“Please.” Bilbo says clearly not wanting any part of what they were planning.

Balin hands Bilbo a long contract as he says, “It’s just the usual summary of out of pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth.”

“Funeral arrangements?” Bilbo says curiously. As Bilbo steps back a few feet to read the contract, Thorin leans toward Gandalf and whispers to him. “I cannot guarantee his safety.”

“Understood.”

“Nor will I be responsible for his fate.”

“Agreed.”

Bilbo reads parts of the contract out loud, “Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any. Seems fair. Eh, Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations ... evisceration … incineration?”

“Oh, aye, he’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye.” Bofur says and I face palm. Bilbo looks a little breathless, “Huh.”

“You all right, laddie?” Balin asks and I watch Bilbo carefully as he bends over, nauseous and pained as he says, “Uh, yeah...Feel a bit faint.”

“Think furnace with wings.” Bofur says and I roll my eyes as I say, “That’s enough,”

“Air, I need air.” Bilbo says as he starts fanning his face.

“Flash of light, searing pain, then Poof! You’re nothing more than a pile of ash.” Bofur says and I am about to yell at him when Bilbo breathes heavily, trying to compose himself as the others stare at him. “Hmmm. Nope.” He says as he falls toward the floor in a faint. Before he reaches the floor I reach out and grab him.

“Ah, very helpful, Bofur.” Gandalf says as I carry Bilbo over to his chair. After I set him down I turn back toward the dwarves and Gandalf and say, “So you are going to start a fight with a dragon? That sounds like a great plan.” I say the last part as sarcastic as I can.

“Randir, you only need help us navigate the fastest terrain. If you do not wish to go with us to the mountain then you need not follow us past the Greenwood.” Gandalf says and I sigh as I say, “I will lead you to the wood, when we reach it I will decide whether or not I continue on this quest with you.”

Gandalf nods and then a few moments later we are all standing in Bilbo’s living room as he sits in his chair holding a mug, and talking to Gandalf. “I’ll be all right, let me just sit quietly for a moment.” Bilbo says and I watch as Gandalf gets irritated and says, “You’ve been sitting quietly for far too long. Tell me; when did doilies and your mother’s dishes become so important to you? I remember a young Hobbit who always was running off in search of elves and the woods, who’d stay out late, come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs and fireflies. A young Hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire. The world is not in your books and maps; it’s out there.”

“I can’t just go running off into the blue. I am a Baggins, of Bag End.” Bilbo says and I stare at the dwarves surrounding him. They all had indifferent looks on their faces.

“You are also a Took. Did you know that your great-great-great-great uncle, Bullroarer Took, was so large he could ride a real horse?”

I follow Bilbo’s eyes to a photo of Bullroarer Took on Bilbo’s wall. “Yes.” Bilbo says and I force a smile.

“Well he could. In the Battle of Green Fields, he charged the goblin ranks. He swung his club so hard it knocked the Goblin King’s head clean off, and it sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole. And thus the battle was won, and the game of golf invented at the same time.”

“I do believe you made that up.” Bilbo says and I smile genuinely as Gandalf replies, “Well, all good stories deserve embellishment. You’ll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back.”

“Can you promise that I will come back?” Bilbo asks and my heart clenches for the young hobbit.

“No. And if you do, you will not be the same.” Gandalf says and I bite my lip to keep from remembering my past. I knew all too well the horrors of the night.

“That’s what I thought. Sorry, Gandalf, I can’t sign this. You’ve got the wrong Hobbit.” Bilbo walks away down the hall. Gandalf sighs.

Balin and Thorin see Bilbo walking away and Balin says, “It appears we have lost our burglar. Probably for the best. The odds were always against us. After all, what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toymakers; hardly the stuff of legend.”

“There are a few warriors amongst us.” Thorin says and Balin sighs as he says, “Old warriors.”

“I will take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills. For when I called upon them, they came. Loyalty. Honor. A willing heart. I can ask no more than that.” Thorin says and I smile at his courage.

“You don’t have to do this. You have a choice. You’ve done honorably by our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains, a life of peace and plenty; a life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor.” Balin says causing Thorin to hold out the key Gandalf gave him.

“From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me. They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin. Not for me.”

“Then we are with you, laddie. We will see it done.” The dwarves gather in Bilbo’s living room, smoking their pipes by the fire. They all begin humming, and soon Thorin begins to sing, and the others join him. Gandalf and I listen from nearby. Their deep voices start to lull me into a dream.

“Far over the misty mountains cold

To dungeons deep and caverns old

We must away ere break of day

To find our long forgotten gold

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 blazed with light”

As the night lurches on I sit on the porch with sudden thoughts of my father and my home. “Do you miss Eregion?” I hear Gandalf say causing me to let out a heavy sigh.

“My father, I miss my father.”

“As you would,”

“I try to remember a time when we were happy; but all I seem to remember was him being tied to a banner with arrows piercing his body. I don’t sleep for fear I might dream about him.”

“He was a great man, his pride was his downfall.” I feel my stomach churn as I remember everything else that had happened to me. I subconsciously reach up and tug on a strand of my red hair. “It is a shame that the Lady Melethril decided to forgo her life and become a ranger.”

I sigh as I say, “I can never go back to being her. Too much has happened. I am no longer worthy of being an elf.”

“Rubbish!” Gandalf says and I smirk as I pull a dagger out of my boot and twirl it in my hand.

“I found this on the battlefield of Dagorlad, It is an Elvish dagger made by my father for the Elven King Oropher. I meant to return it to Thranduil but as the centuries passed on I couldn’t force myself to return it to him. Even if it belonged to his father it was made by mine, just like Ithildin.” I gently run my finger across the hilt of my father’s sword. “I keep these things to remind me of what I lost, what was taken from me.”

“Perhaps one day you will find yourself before Thranduil again.” Gandalf says and I smirk as I say, “Yeah that’s not gonna happen.” With one last twirl I slip my dagger back into my boot and let out a heavy sigh.

“You should get some rest, we have a long journey ahead of us.” He says and I suddenly feel a cold air blow past me cooling me all the way to my bones. I give him a nod as I stand and walking over to the door use it to climb on top of the little hole in the ground and sprawl out on the grassy roof. “What are you doing? I meant for you to sleep inside.”

Rolling over I raise an eyebrow and say, “With all those men? No I think I’ll take my chances out here. Good night Mithrandir.”

“Good night My Lady,” He says before he walks back inside. When I hear the silent creak of the door closing I let out a heavy sigh, “I wish he wouldn’t call me that, it just brings back bad memories.” That night I didn’t get much sleep at all for every time I closed my eyes I saw my father’s mangled body.

Will Continue In - The Beginning

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koalas-koalas-everywhere · 5 years

Text

Live-blogging The Hobbit pt. 6 (it’s been so long I had to check)

Queer Lodgings

“And though the Lord of the Eagles became in after days the King of All Birds and wore a golden crown, and his fifteen chieftains golden collars (made of the gold that the dwarves gave them), Bilbo never saw them again—except high and far off in the battle of Five Armies.” Nice subtle foreshadowing to the fact that the dwarves probably get back Erebor, and the riches to make golden collars therein, and a more direct one to the battle of Five Armies.

Also, is it too dumb to get kinda sad that that’s the last time they see each other?

“‘I always meant to see you all safe (if possible) over the mountains,’ said the wizard, ‘and now by good management and good luck I have done it. Indeed we are now a good deal further east than I ever meant to come with you, for after all this is not my adventure. I may look in on it again before it is all over, but in the meanwhile I have some other pressing business to attend to.”

The dwarves groaned and lookd most distressed, and Bilbo wept.”

Gandalf: “Mkay, bye now, you’re welcome.”

Dwarves: “We want to Die.”

Bilbo: *straight up starts crying*

1° image, the book: “‘And why is it called the Carrock?’”

2°image, a google search: “The word Carrock is somewhat of a linguistical joke on Tolkien’s part; in Anglo-Saxon carr means “rock” and in Welsh, carreg also means “rock, stone”.

Tolkien turn on your location I just want to talk.

“‘What! A furrier, a man that calls rabbits conies, when he doesn’t turn their skins into squirrels?’ Asked Bilbo.

‘Good gracious heavens, no, no, NO, NO!’ said Gandalf. ‘Don’t be a fool Mr. Baggins if you can help it[…].’”

This might be the funniest moment in the whole book. I’m trying to think of ways to parody it like the bulletpoint before last and I can’t think of anyway funnier than this. It also sounds so modern?

Anyway, what’s “turn their [rabbits] skins into squirrels” supposed to mean?

Relevant quote: “‘[…] Bombur is fattest and will do for two, he had better come alone and last. Come on Mr. Baggins! There is a gate somewhere round this way.’ And with that he went off along the hedge taking the frightened hobbit with him.”

First off, um, rude. Stop picking on Bombur.

Second, lmao, Bilbo can’t get any peace.

“Standing near was a huge man with a thick black beard and hair, and great bare arms and legs with knotted muscles. He was clothed in a tunic of wool down to his knees, and was leaning on a large axe. The horses were standing by him with their noses at his shoulder.

‘Ugh! Here they are!’ he said to the horses. ‘They don’t look dangerous. You can be off!” He laughed a great rolling laugh, put down his axe and came forward.”

Dang, you made me get all menacing for nothing.

“Here they sat on wooden benches while Gandalf began his tale, and Bilbo swung his dangling legs and looked at the flowers in the garden, wondering what their names could be, as he has never seen half of them before.”

I love how child-like adults are in children’s stories.

Also, I can just imagine Gandalf thinking “yes, now you just sit there on your hands and don’t interrupt, for goodness’ sake.”

Lastly, further confirmation that Bilbo likes flowers. (Besides, you know, that moment at the start where it says in the narration that he likes flowers.)

“‘Good heavens!’ Growled Beorn. ‘Don’t pretend that goblins can’t count. They can. Twelve isn’t fifteen and they know it.’”

So do you, Bee. You figured it out a page ago.

“The dwarves listened and shook their beards[…]”

What

What exactly is this supposed to mean.

Are their mouths trembling out of fear or like

Is grabbing your beard and shaking it a common dwarven way to show fear.

“‘One question at a time—and none till after supper! I haven’t had a bite since breakfast.’

At last Gandalf pushed away his plate and jug—he had eaten two whole loaves (with masses of butter and honey and clotted cream) and drunk at least a quart of mead—and he took out his pipe. ‘I will answer the second question first,’ he said, ‘—but bless me! This is a splendid place for smoke rings!’ Indeed for a long time they could get nothing more out of him, he was so busy sending smoke rings dodging round the pillars of the hall, changing them into all sorts of different shapes and colours, and setting them at last chasing one another out of the hole in the roof.”

Gandalf spends the majority of the book .5 seconds away from being the victim of a murder attempt. (Attempt being the key word here.)

Also shout out to “they must have looked very queer”, like yeah, those rainbow coloured smoke rings must have.

“Bilbo thought he knew what the wizard meant. ‘What shall we do,’ he cried, ‘if he leads all the Wargs and the goblins down here? We shall all be caught and killed! I thought you said he was not a friend of theirs.’

‘So I did. And don’t be silly! You had better go to bed, your wits are sleepy.’

The hobbit felt quite crushed, and as there seemed nothing else to do he did go to bed[…].”

Gandalf: Bilbo I’m begging you to shut up. Go try turning off and on again.

“in there the wild things are dark, queer and savage.”

… tumblr?

Also, first mention not to stray off the path.

“As the light faded Bilbo thought he saw away to the right, or to the left, the shadowy form of a great bear prowling along in the same direction. But if he dared to mention it to Gandalf, the wizard only said: ‘Hush! Take no notice!’”

Bilbo: um Gandalf, remember that bear man that warned us not to be out at night because he implied that he would kill us in his bear form? I think he might be following us, right now, at dark.

Gandalf: read 0:47

“Mr. Baggins’ eyes are sharper than yours, if you have not seen each night after dark a great bear going along with us or sitting far off in the moon watching our camps.”

Gandalf: I’m as surprised as the next person, but it does seem like Bilbo is the brain of your operation. V sorry.

“I have, as I told you, some pressing business away south; and I am already late through bothering with you people.”

Gandalf is so quotable.

“That depends on your luck and on your courage and sense; and I am sending Mr. Baggins with you. I have told you before that he has more about him than you guess, and you will find that out before long. So cheer up Bilbo and don’t look so glum.”

Gandalf: I’ve said before that Bilbo is a key part of this quest and I won’t let anyone contradict me, no, not even you, Bilbo.

I like to imagine that every time Gandalf starts talking about how skillful Bilbo’ll turn out to be, he’s in the background making faces of either anger or consternation, maybe even making noises. No, sir, we hobbits are bred to be useless and proud of it.

“‘Don’t you worry!’ said Thorin. ‘It will get lighter all too soon. Before long I expect we shall all wish our packs heavier, when the food begins to run short.’”

Thx

Again, don’t stray off the track.

“‘[…] And I am not going to allow you to back out now, Mr. Baggins. I am ashamed of you for thinking of it. You have got to look after all these dwarves for me,’ he laughed.”

Gandalf how bad is you opinion of the dwarves

(For those unable to read the print on the image, the context is Bilbo asking if they have to go through and, after Gandalf assumes the question is about whether to go through with the quest at all and playfully scolds him for it, clarifying that he’s only asking for an alternative to actually going through the forest, like going around. Didn’t feel like quoting the whole exchange, but I also didn’t want to give people the wrong impression.)

“Before you could get round it in the South, you would get into the land of the Necromancer; and even you, Bilbo, won’t need me to tell you tales of that black sorcerer.”

Wizard so done with local hayseed.

“‘Good-bye then, and really good-bye!” said Gandalf, and he turned his horse and rode down into the West. But he could not resist the temptation to have the last word. Before he had passed quite out of hearing he turned and put his hands to his mouth and called to them. They heard his voice come faintly: ‘Good-bye! Be good, take care of yourselves—and DON’T LEAVE THE PATH!’”

Lmao, bolding mine, of course he had to have the last word.

Extra: “Now began the most dangerous part of all the journey.” As in… until now? The whole journey, including the dragon? I mean, I know in hindsight it wasn’t that bad and Bard took care of it but, like, the absolutely most dangerous part?

I know it’s taken me a lot of time, it was part actual business, part my exec dysfunction at work. I’ve actually already read well into the next chap, but I didn’t take pics, which is what I’ll be doing as soon as I finish this post.

#The Hobbit #liveblogging #Bilbo Baggins #Thorin Oakenshield III #dwarves #hobbits #The Company of Thorin Oakenshield #Gandalf

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elles-writing · 4 years

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When The Worlds Collide - Kili x reader, IV.

Pairing: Kili x reader

Gif and pics on moodboard not mine

Warnings: fluff...just...way too much fluff...a lots of fluff tho

masterlist part one part two part three

A/N: I hope you guys are going to enjoy this one. It’s really fluffy and for the next chapter I’ll have a fanart. For this one I’ve created a moodboard for you (reader) in this story, and I’m nervous to post it (you don’t want to see me when I’ll be posting it with the fanart, you really don’t).

I love your feedback guys, feel free to comment (but no hate, we’re nice and peaceful community). I wrote also one angsty two-shot, so lemme know if you want to read it or not. Aside from that, my school schedule is weird and my brain is just not used to school anymore, so today, when I was trying to study, I was just not capable of too much.)

I got four new books for quite good deal today, and I started reading one and guyss, I’m in love with reading AGAIN I’d dare to say (even though I red one page of The Hobbit yesterday and I just can’t finish it, because I know what’s gonna happed. Yes, I didn’t even watched almost whole third movie. I’m just not ready for crushing my soul like that just yet. Plus I don’t ship Kili and Tauriel. But the actress of Tauriel is funny lady.)

Tags: @moony-artnstuff @whenputtingpentopaper

Moodboard:

Your pov

You’ve woken up when morning sunlight touched your face. You threw the edge of your blanket, hanging over your head, over your eyes and decided to drift off to sleep again. It wasn’t time for waking up just yet, anyways.

You tried to grab your other cover to keep yourself warm, remembering you were indeed sick, but you found only that blanket. You furrowed brows and realized you were halfway sitting...on a couch.

I must’ve fallen asleep here yesterday, you thought. When it was? Was it that late or- You froze when you realized what happened yesterday. It cannot be possible, you thought and hesitantly opened one eye and pulled the blanket aside from your head.

Your mouth was open wide. No, this must be just dream, you thought when you noticed Kili was hugging you in his sleep and his face had peaceful expression in deep slumber. You covered your mouth with your hand. Oh my god, oh no, you thought. It was real. They were here. You looked over the living room. And scared the shit out of me, you thought.They are here and we need to think of way to send them home...you corrected yourself.

You tried to get up, carefully, not to wake Kili, but his arms only locked more around you and pressed you more to his chest.

„Kili,“ you hesitantly whispered. Nothing. He was deeply asleep. You sighed and decided to study his face, while he was not moving around all the time, only inhaling and exhaling deeply, and moving slightely in his sleep, occasionally.

His dark hair were tangled and messy, just like you’d expect from a long journey, but they were surprisingly clean, only a bit of some leaves and twigs. As if he was be climbing some tree, you thought.

You also noticed they were thick, strong and wavy at some point, which was probably mostly why they were tangled. You looked over to his face, which you could see closely now.

Aside from dark, thick eyebrows and dark, long and thick eyelashes, you’ve seen the scruff he had on his cheeks, chin and jaw. You knew he was feeling bad for it, since the longer beard, the more honourable and attractive the dwarf was, and Thorin was his father figure, so he truly wanted to prove himself, especially to him...but by human eyes, he was indeed very attractive, and his funny, kind, friendly and brave, though restless, reckless personality was something many girls and women would make to eye him at least. You felt a jolt of jealousy going through your insides when you thought of him and Tauriel. Maybe they haven’t met yet, or what if this is some alternative universe, where they‘ve never liked each other...You looked in the distance and scrunched your face, deeply in thought.

Third person pov

You were so deeply in your own thoughts you didn’t noticed that Kili’s eyes fluttered and lazily opened. He felt a weight of another body and his arms around it. He immediatelly knew who that was and looked down at you.

He’ve seen your eyes you were clearly deeply thinking about something. He was admiring your e/c eyes, their color clear and deep, your pink lips and tint of similar colour on your cheeks. He looked over your face features and thought they were perfect. He wanted to cup your face in his palms, run his hands through your hair...

He didn’t noticed you looked back at him and noticed he was awake. You slightely smiled looked away, your cheeks blushed.

„Good morning!“ Fili said and you jumped up. You and Kili looked at him as children on sleepover and he laughed.

„You should see your faces right now!“ You blushed and groaned, covering your head with your blanket and Kili quickly unwrapped his arms from you.

You felt as if he was about to go somewhere away, so you sat and got up.

„I’ll go make some tea,“ you mumbled and left to go to the kitchen. Fili turned to his brother.

„Soo, did I interrupted something?“ Kili shook his head and gave him innocent look.

„I don’t know what are you talking about, Fee.“ But he knew Fili was about to start teasing you both, not just him.

„Nah, Kee, I don’t think so. You know very well what I am talking about.“ He looked over the room and stepped to the window. He looked outside and noticed your backyard, where was sun peaking through a fog. Kili stood up next to him and asked.

„Do you think they have any goblins or orcs here?“ Fili shrugged his shoulders.

„We will find out. If there are any elves though, you know that Thorin’s going to be furious.“

„More than he already is?“ Kili grinned and both of them giggled.

„What are you two talking about?“ Asked Thorin and both young dwarves stiffened. They didn’t noticed he already woke and got up.

„It’s nothing, Uncle.“ Both answered way too quickly and with high-pitched voice they normally didn’t had.

„Which tea do you want? Oh, good morning Thorin,“ You came to the doors. It was still alien to you that now you’ve had a few dwarves, a hobbit, a wizard, an elves and another human in your house.

Both dwarves quickly got to you to escape Thorin and you giggled and shook your head. You knew why they were your favourite duo.

In the kitchen, you’ve explained to them that you had no orcs, goblins, elves, dwarves or dragons in our world, that there were only humans and animals and, well, plants.

Both of them were wondering why you were drinking black tea with milk, and so you decided to make them some in different mugs just in case they wouldn’t like it. While you were preparing it, you were explaining to them why you’ve liked it.

„Well, people drink this, because the tea by itself is strong, but the milk gives it sweeter taste and it’s not so strong. Many people drink it this way, but some add only a few drops of milk, others give quarter of milk and three quarters of tea, you can add lemon or honey, or both.“ You finished talking and handed them their cups.

„It’s surely not sweeter than you,“ Kili winked at you and drinked on his non-milk tea. You blushed. That was the side of Kili you mostly knew from the movies.

#kili x reader #kili imagine #kili x you #the hobbit #the hobbit x reader

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readbookywooks · 8 years

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Queer Lodgings

The next morning Bilbo woke up with the early sun in his eyes. He jumped up to look at the time and to go and put his kettle on-and found he was not home at all. So he sat down and wished in vain for a wash and a brush. He did not get either, nor tea nor toast nor bacon for his breakfast, only cold mutton and rabbit. And after that he had to get ready for a fresh start. This time he was allowed to climb on to an eagle's back and cling between his wings. The air rushed over him and he shut his eyes. The dwarves were crying farewells and promising to repay the lord of the eagles if ever they could, as off rose fifteen great birds from the mountain's side. The sun was still close to the eastern edge of things. The morning was cool, and mists were in the valleys and hollows and twined here and there about the peaks and pinnacles of the hills. Bilbo opened an eye to peep and saw that the birds were already high up and the world was far away, and the mountains were falling back behind them into the distance. He shut his eyes again and held on tighter. "Don't pinch!" said his eagle. "You need not be frightened like a rabbit, even if you look rather like one. It is a fair morning with little wind. What is finer than flying?" Bilbo would have liked to say: "A warm bath and late breakfast on the lawn afterwards;" but he thought it better to say nothing at all, and to let go his clutch just a tiny bit. After a good while the eagles must have seen the point they were making for, 'even from their great height, for they began to go down circling round in great spirals. They did this for a long while, and at last the hobbit opened his eyes again. The earth was much nearer, and below them were trees that looked like oaks and elms, and wide grass lands, and a river running through it all. But cropping out of the ground, right in the path of the stream which looped itself about it, was a great rock, almost a hill of stone, like a last outpost of the distant mountains, or a huge piece cast miles into the plain by some giant among giants. Quickly now to the top of this rock the eagles swooped one by one and set down their passengers. "Farewell!" they cried, "wherever you fare, till your eyries receive you at the journey's end!" That is the polite thing to say among eagles. "May the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks," answered Gandalf, who knew the correct reply. And so they parted. And though the lord of the eagles became in after days the King of All Birds and wore a golden crown, and his fifteen chieftains golden collars (made of the gold that the dwarves gave them), Bilbo never saw them again-except high and far off in the battle of Five Armies. But as that comes in at the end of this tale we will say no more about it just now. There was a flat space on the top of the hill of stone and a well worn path with many steps leading down it to the river, across which a ford of huge flat stones led to the grass-land beyond the stream. There was a little cave (a wholesome one with a pebbly floor) at the foot of the steps and near the end of the stony ford. Here the party gathered and discussed what was to be done. "I always meant to see you all safe (if possible) over the mountains," said the wizard, "and now by good management and good luck I have done it. Indeed we are now a good deal further east than I ever meant to come with you, for after all this is not my adventure. I may look in on it again before it is all over, but in the meanwhile I have some other pressing business to attend to." The dwarves groaned and looked most distressed, and Bilbo wept. They had begun to think Gandalf was going in come all the way and would always be there to help them out of difficulties. "I am not going to disappear this very instant," said he. "I can give you a day or two more. Probably I can help you out of your present plight, and I need a little help myself. We have no food, and no baggage, and no ponies to ride; and you don't know where you are. Now I can tell you that. You are still some miles north of the path which we should have been following, if we had not left the mountain pass in a hurry. Very few people live in these parts, unless they have come here since I was last down this way, which is some years ago. But there is somebody that I know of, who lives not far away. That Somebody made the steps on the great rock-the Carrock I believe he calls it. He does not come here often, certainly not in the daytime, and it is no good waiting for him. In fact it would be very dangerous. We must go and find him; and if all goes well at our meeting, I think I shall be off and wish you like the eagles 'farewell wherever you fare!' " They begged him not to leave them. They offered him dragon-gold and silver and jewels, but he would not change his mind. "We shall see, we shall see!" he said, "and I think I have earned already some of your dragon-gold - when you have got it." After that they stopped pleading. Then they took off their clothes and bathed in the river, which was shallow and clear and stony at the ford. When they had dried in the sun, which was now strong and warm, they were refreshed, if still sore and a little hungry. Soon they crossed the ford (carrying the hobbit), and then began to march through the long green grass and down the lines of the wide-armed oaks and the tall elms. "And why is it called the Carrock?" asked Bilbo as he went along at the wizard's side. "He called it the Carrock, because carrock is his word for it. He calls things like that carrocks, and this one is the Carrock because it is the only one near his home and he knows it well." "Who calls it? Who knows it?" "The Somebody I spoke of-a very great person. You must all be very polite when I introduce you. I shall introduce you slowly, two by two, I think; and you must be careful not to annoy him, or heaven knows what will happen. He can be appalling when he is angry, though he is kind enough if humoured. Still I warn you he gets angry easily." The dwarves all gathered round when they heard the wizard talking like this to Bilbo. "Is that the person you are taking us to now?" they asked. "Couldn't you find someone more easy-tempered? Hadn't you better explain it all a bit clearer?"-and so on. "Yes it certainly is! No I could not! And I was explaining very carefully," answered the wizard crossly. "If you must know more, his name is Beorn. He is very strong, and he is a skin-changer." "What! a furrier, a man that calls rabbits conies, when he doesn't turn their skins into squirrels?" asked Bilbo. "Good gracious heavens, no, no, NO, NO!" said Gandalf. "Don't be a fool Mr. Baggins if you can help it; and in the name of all wonder don't mention the word furrier again as long as you are within a hundred miles of his house, nor, rug, cape, tippet, muff, nor any other such unfortunate word! He is a skin-changer. He changes his skin; sometimes he is a huge black bear, sometimes he is a great strong black-haired man with huge arms and a great beard. I cannot tell you much more, though that ought to be enough. Some say that he is a bear descended from the great and ancient bears of the mountains that lived there before the giants came. Others say that he is a man descended from the first men who lived before Smaug or the other dragons came into this part of the world, and before the goblins came into the hills out of the North. I cannot say, though I fancy the last is the true tale. He is not the sort of person to ask questions of. "At any rate he is under no enchantment but his own. He lives in an oak-wood and has a great wooden house; and as a man he keeps cattle and horses which are nearly is marvellous as himself. They work for him and talk to him. He does not eat them; neither does he hunt or eat wild animals. He keeps hives and hives of great fierce bees, and lives most on cream and honey. As a bear he ranges far and wide. I once saw him sitting all alone on the top of the Carrock at night watching the moon sinking towards the Misty Mountains, and I heard him growl in the tongue of bears; 'The day will come when they will perish and I shall go back!' That is why I believe he once came from the mountains himself." Bilbo and the dwarves had now plenty to think about, and they asked no more questions. They still had a long way to walk before them. Up slope and down dale they plodded. It grew very hot. Sometimes they rested under the trees, and then Bilbo felt so hungry that he would have eaten acorns, if any had been ripe enough yet to have fallen to the ground. It was the middle of the afternoon before they noticed that great patches of flowers had begun to spring up, all the same kinds growing together as if they had been planted. Especially there was clover, waving patches of cockscomb clover, and purple clover, and wide stretches of short white sweet honey-smelling clover. There was a buzzing and a whirring and a droning in the air. Bees were busy everywhere. And such bees! Bilbo had never seen anything like them. "If one was to sting me," he thought, "I should swell up as big again as I am!" They were bigger than hornets. The drones were bigger than your thumb, a good deal, and the bands of yellow on their deep black bodies shone like fiery gold. "We are getting near," said Gandalf. "We are on the edge of his bee-pastures." After a while they came to a belt of tall and very ancient oaks, and beyond these to a high thorn-hedge through which you could neither see nor scramble. "You had better wait here," said the wizard to the dwarves; "and when I call or whistle begin to come after me - you will see the way I go-but only in pairs, mind, about five minutes between each pair of you. Bombur is fattest and will do for two, he had better come alone and last. Come on Mr. Baggins! There is a gate somewhere round this way." And with that he went off along the hedge taking the frightened hobbit with him. They soon came to a wooden gate, high and broad, beyond which they could see gardens and a cluster of low wooden buildings, some thatched and made of unshaped logs; barns, stables, sheds, and a long low wooden house. Inside on the southward side of the great hedge were rows and rows of hives with bell-shaped tops made of straw. The noise of the giant bees flying to and fro and crawling in and out filled all the air. The wizard and the hobbit pushed open the heavy creaking gate and went down a wide track towards the house. Some horses, very sleek and well-groomed, trotted up across the grass and looked at them intently with very intelligent faces; then off they galloped to the buildings. "They have gone to tell him of the arrival of strangers," said Gandalf. Soon they reached a courtyard, three walls of which were formed by the wooden house and its two long wings. In the middle there was lying a great oak-trunk with many lopped branches beside it. Standing near was a huge man with a thick black beard and' hair, and great bare arms and legs with knotted muscles. He was clothed in a tunic of wool down to his knees, and was leaning on a large axe. The horses were standing by him with their noses at his shoulder. "Ugh! here they are!" he said to the horses. "They don't look dangerous. You can be off!" He laughed a great rolling laugh, put down his axe and came forward. "Who are you and what do you want?" he asked gruffly, standing in front of them and towering tall above Gandalf. As for Bilbo he could easily have trotted through his legs without ducking his head to miss the fringe of the man's brown tunic. "I am Gandalf," said the wizard. "Never heard of him," growled the man, "And what's this little fellow?" he said, stooping down to frown at the hobbit with his bushy eyebrows. "That is Mr. Baggins, a hobbit of good family and unimpeachable reputation," said Gandalf. Bilbo bowed. He had no hat to take off, and was painfully conscious of his many missing buttons. "I am a wizard," continued Gandalf. "I have heard of you, if you have not heard of me; but perhaps you have heard of my good cousin Radagast who lives near the Southern borders of Mirkwood?" "Yes; not a bad fellow as wizards go, I believe. I used to see him now and again," said Beorn. "Well, now I know who you are, or who you say you are. What do you want?" "To tell you the truth, we have lost our luggage and nearly lost our way, and are rather in need of help, or at least advice. I may say we have had rather a bad time with goblins in the mountains." "Goblins?" said the big man less gruffly. "O ho, so you've been having trouble with them have you? What did you go near them for?" "We did not mean to. They surprised us at night in a pass which we had to cross, we were coming out of the Lands over West into these countries-it is a long tale." "Then you had better come inside and tell me some of it, if it won't take all day," said the man leading the way through a dark door that opened out of the courtyard into the house. Following him they found themselves in a wide hall with a fire-place in the middle. Though it was summer there was a wood-fire burning and the smoke was rising to the blackened rafters in search of the way out through an opening in the roof. They passed through this dim hall, lit only by the fire and the hole above it, and came through another smaller door into a sort of veranda propped on wooden posts made of single tree-trunks. It faced south and was still warm and filled with the light of the westering sun which slanted into it, and fell golden on the garden full of flowers that came right up to the steps. Here they sat on wooden benches while Gandalf began his tale, and Bilbo swung his dangling legs and looked at the flowers in the garden, wondering what their names could be, as he had never seen half of them before. "I was coming over the mountains with a friend or two..." said the wizard. "Or two? I can only see one, and a little one at that," said Beorn. "Well to tell you the truth, I did not like to bother you with a lot of us, until I found out if you were busy. I will give a call, if I may." "Go on, call away!" So Gandalf gave a long shrill whistle, and presently Thorin and Dori came round the house by the garden path and stood bowing low before them. "One or three you meant, I see!" said Beorn. "But these aren't hobbits, they are dwarves!" "Thorin Oakenshield, at your service! Dori at your service!" said the two dwarves bowing again. "I don't need your service, thank you," said Beorn, "but I expect you need mine. I am not over fond of dwarves; but if it is true you are Thorin (son of Thrain, son of Thror, I believe), and that your companion is respectable, and that you are enemies of goblins and are not up to any mischief in my lands-what are you up to, by the way?" "They are on their way to visit the land of their fathers, away east beyond Mirkwood," put in Gandalf, "and it is entirely an accident that we are in your lands at all. We were crossing by the High Pass that should have brought us to the road that lies to the south of your country, when we were attacked by the evil goblins-as I was about to tell you." "Go on telling, then!" said Beorn, who was never very polite. "There was a terrible storm; the stone-giants were out hurling rocks, and at the head of the pass we took refuge in a cave, the hob bit and I and several of our companions..." "Do you call two several?" "Well, no. As a matter of fact there were more than two." "Where are they? Killed, eaten, gone home?" "Well, no. They don't seem all to have come when I whistled. Shy, I expect. You see, we are very much afraid that we are rather a lot for you to entertain." "Go on, whistle again! I am in for a party, it seems, and one or two more won't make much difference," growled Beorn. Gandalf whistled again; but Nori and Ori were there almost before he had stopped, for, if you remember, Gandalf had told them to come in pairs every five minutes. "Hullo!" said Beorn. "You came pretty quick-where were you hiding? Come on my jack-in-the-boxes!" "Nori at your service, Ori at..." they began; but Beorn interrupted them. "Thank you! When I want your help I will ask for it. Sit down, and let's get on with this tale, or it will be supper-time before it is ended." "As soon as we were asleep," went on Gandalf, "a crack at the back of the cave opened; goblins came out and grabbed the hobbit and the dwarves and our troop of ponies-" "Troop of ponies? What were you-a travelling circus? Or were you carrying lots of goods? Or do you always call six a troop?" "O no! As a matter of fact there were more than six ponies, for there were more than six of us-and well, here are two more!" Just at that moment Balin and Dwalin appeared and bowed so low that their beards swept the stone floor. The big man was frowning at first, but they did their very best to be frightfully polite, and kept on nodding and bending and bowing and waving their hoods before their knees (in proper dwarf-fashion), till he stopped frowning and burst into a chuckling laugh; they looked so comical. "Troop, was right," he said. "A fine comic one. Come in my merry men, and what are your names? I don't want your service just now, only your names; and then sit down and stop wagging!" "Balin and Dwalin," they said not daring to be offended, and sat flop on the floor looking rather surprised. "Now go on again!" said Beorn to the wizard. "Where was 1? O yes - I was not grabbed. I killed a goblin or two with a flash-" "Good!" growled Beorn. "It is some good being a wizard, then." "-and slipped inside the crack before it closed. I followed down into the main hall, which was crowded with goblins. The Great Goblin was there with thirty or forty armed guards. I thought to myself 'even if they were not all chained together, what can a dozen do against so many?' " "A dozen! That's the first time I've heard eight called a dozen. Or have you still got some more jacks that haven't yet come out of their boxes?" "Well, yes, there seem to be a couple more here now - Fili and Kili, I believe," said Gandalf, as these two now appeared and stood smiling and bowing. "That's enough!" said Beorn. "Sit down and be quiet! Now go on, Gandalf!" So Gandalf went on with the tale, until he came to the fight in the dark, the discovery of the lower gate, and their horror when they found that Mr. Baggins had been mislaid. "We counted ourselves and found that there was no hobbit. There were only fourteen of us left!" "Fourteen! That's the first time I've heard one from ten leave fourteen. You mean nine, or else you haven't told me yet all the names of your party." "Well, of course you haven't seen Oin and Gloin yet. And, bless me! here they are. I hope you will forgive them for bothering you." "O let 'em all come! Hurry up! Come along, you two, and sit down! But look here, Gandalf, even now we have only got yourself and ten dwarves and the hobbit that was lost. That only makes eleven (plus one mislaid) and not fourteen, unless wizards count differently to other people. But now please get on with the tale." Beorn did not show it more than he could help, but really he had begun to get very interested. You see, in the old days he had known the very part of the mountains that Gandalf was describing. He nodded and he growled, when he heard of the hobbit's reappearance and of their scramble down the stone-slide and of the wolf-ring m the woods. When Gandalf came to their climbing into trees with the wolves all underneath, he got up and strode about and muttered: "I wish I had been there! I would have given them more than fireworks!" "Well," said Gandalf very glad to see that his tale was making a good impression, "I did the best I could. There we were with the wolves going mad underneath us and the forest beginning to blaze in places, when the goblins came down from the hills and discovered us. They yelled with delight and sang songs making fun of us. Fifteen birds in five fir-trees..." "Good heavens!" growled Beorn. "Don't pretend that goblins can't count. They can. Twelve isn't fifteen and they know it." "And so do 1. There were Bifur and Bofur as well. I haven't ventured to introduce them before, but here they are." In came Bifur and Bofur. "And me!" gasped Bombur pulling up behind. He was fat, and also angry at being left till last. He refused to wait five minutes, and followed immediately after the other two. "Well, now there are fifteen of you; and since goblins can count, I suppose that is all that there were up the trees. Now perhaps we can finish this story without any more interruptions." Mr. Baggins saw then how clever Gandalf had been. The interruptions had really made Beorn more interested in the story, and the story had kept him from sending the dwarves off at once like suspicious beggars. He never invited people into his house, if he could help it. He had very few friends and they lived a good way away; and he never invited more than a couple of these to his house at a time. Now he had got fifteen strangers sitting in his porch! By the time the wizard had finished his tale and had told of the eagles' rescue and of how they had all been brought to the Carrock, the sun had fallen behind the peaks of the Misty Mountains and the shadows were long in Beorn's garden. "A very good tale!" said he. "The best I have heard for a long while. If all beggars could tell such a good one, they might find me kinder. You may be making it all up, of course, but you deserve a supper for the story all the same. Let's have something to eat!" "Yes, please!" they all said together. "Thank you very much!" Inside the hall it was now quite dark. Beorn clapped his hands, and in trotted four beautiful white ponies and several large long-bodied grey dogs. Beorn said something to them in a queer language like animal noises turned into talk. They went out again and soon came back carrying torches in their mouths, which they lit at the fire and stuck in low brackets on the pillars of the hall about the central hearth. The dogs could stand on their hind-legs when they wished, and carry things with their fore-feet. Quickly they got out boards and trestles from the side walls and set them up near the fire. Then baa-baa-baa! was heard, and in came some snow-white sheep led by a large coal-black ram. One bore a white cloth embroidered at the edges with figures of animals; others bore on their broad backs trays with bowls and platters and knives and wooden spoons, which the dogs took and quickly laid on the trestle tables. These were very low, low enough even for Bilbo to sit at comfortably. Beside them a pony pushed two low-seated benches with wide rush-bottoms and little short thick legs for Gandalf and Thorin, while at the far end he put Beorn's big black chair of the same sort (in which he sat with his great legs stuck far out under the table). These were all the chairs he had in his hall, and he probably had them low like the tables for the convenience of the wonderful animals that waited on him. What did the rest sit on? They were not forgotten. The other ponies came in rolling round drum-shaped sections of logs, smoothed and polished, and low enough even for Bilbo; so soon they were all seated at Beorn's table, and the hall had not seen such a gathering for many a year. There they had a supper, or a dinner, such as they had not had since they left the Last Homely House in the West and said good-bye to Elrond. The light of the torches and the fire flickered about them, and on the table were two tall red beeswax candles. All the time they ate, Beorn in his deep rolling voice told tales of the wild lands on this side of the mountains, and especially of the dark and dangerous wood, that lay outstretched far to North and South a day's ride before them, barring their way to the East, the terrible forest of Mirkwood. The dwarves listened and shook their beards, for they knew that they must soon venture into that forest and that after the mountains it was the worst of the perils they had to pass before they came to the dragon's stronghold. When dinner was over they began to tell tales of their own, but Beorn seemed to be growing drowsy and paid little heed to them. They spoke most of gold and silver and jewels and the making of things by smith-craft, and Beorn did not appear to care for such things: there were no things of gold or silver in his hall, and few save the knives were made of metal at all. They sat long at the table with their wooden drinking-bowls filled with mead. The dark night came on outside. The fires in the middle of the hall were built with fresh logs and the torches were put out, and still they sat in the light of the dancing flames with the pillars of the house standing tall behind them, arid dark at the top like trees of the forest. Whether it was magic or not, it seemed to Bilbo that he heard a sound like wind in the branches stirring in the rafters, and the hoot of owls. Soon he began to nod with sleep and the voices seemed to grow far away, until he woke with a start. The great door had creaked and slammed. Beorn was gone. The dwarves were sitting cross-legged on the floor round the fire, and presently they began to sing. Some of the verses were like this, but there were many more, and their singing went on for a long while: "The wind was on the withered heath, but in the forest stirred no leaf: there shadows lay by night and day, and dark things silent crept beneath. The wind came down from mountains cold, and like a tide it roared and rolled; the branches groaned, the forest moaned, and leaves were laid upon the mould. The wind went on from West to East ; all movement in the forest ceased, but shrill and harsh across the marsh its whistling voices were released. The grasses hissed, their tassels bent, the reeds were rattling-on it went o' er shaken pool under heavens cool where racing clouds were torn and rent. It passed the lonely Mountain bare and swept above the dragon's lair : there black and dark lay boulders stark and flying smoke was in the air. It left the world and took its flight over the wide seas of the night. The moon set sail upon the gale, and stars were fanned to leaping light." Bilbo began to nod again. Suddenly up stood Gandalf. "It is time for us to sleep," be said, "-for us, but not I think for Beorn. In this hall we can rest sound and safe, but I warn you all not to forget what Beorn said before he left us: you must not stray outside until the sun is up, on your peril." Bilbo found that beds had already been laid at the side of the hall, on a sort of raised platform between the pillars and the outer wall. For him there was a little mattress of straw and woollen blankets. He snuggled into them very gladly, summertime though it was. The fire burned low and he fell asleep. Yet in the night he woke: the fire had now sunk to a few embers; the dwarves and Gandalf were all asleep, to judge by their breathing; a splash of white on the floor came from the high moon, which was peering down through the smoke-hole in the roof. There was a growling sound outside, and a noise as of some great animal scuffling at the door. Bilbo.wondered what it was, and whether it could be Beorn in enchanted shape, and if he would come in as a bear and kill them. He dived under the blankets and hid his head, and fell asleep again at last in spite of his fears. It was full morning when he awoke. One of the dwarves had fallen over him in the shadows where he lay, and had rolled down with a bump from the platform on to the floor. It was Bofur, and he was grumbling about it, when Bilbo opened his eyes. "Get up lazybones," he said, "or there will be no breakfast left for you." Up jumped Bilbo. "Breakfast!" he cried. "Where is breakfast?" "Mostly inside us," answered the other dwarves who were moving around the hall; "but what is left is out on the veranda. We have been about looking for Beorn ever since the sun got up; but there is no sign of him anywhere, though we found breakfast laid as soon as we went out." "Where is Gandalf?" asked Bilbo, moving off to find something to eat as quick as he could. "O! out and about somewhere," they told him. But he saw no sign of the wizard all that day until the evening. Just before sunset he walked into the hall, where the hobbit and the dwarves were having supper, waited on by Beorn's wonderful animals, as they had been all day. Of Beorn they had seen and heard nothing since the night before, and they were getting puzzled. "Where is our host, and where have you been all day yourself?" they all cried. "One question at a time-and none till after supper! I haven't had a bite since breakfast." At last Gandalf pushed away his plate and jug - he had eaten two whole loaves (with masses of butter and honey and clotted cream) and drunk at least a quart of mead and he took out his pipe. "I will answer the second question first," he said, "-but bless me! this is a splendid place for smoke rings!" Indeed for a long time they could get nothing more out of him, he was so busy sending smoke-rings dodging round the pillars of the hall, changing them into all sorts of different shapes and colours, and setting them at last chasing one another out of the hole in the roof. They must have looked very queer from outside, popping out into the air one after another, green, blue, red, silver-grey, yellow, white; big ones, little ones; little ones dodging through big ones and joining into figure-eights, and going off like a flock of birds into the distance. "I have been picking out bear-tracks," he said at last. "There must have been a regular bears' meeting outside here last night. I soon saw that Beorn could not have made them all: there were far too many of them, and they were of various sizes too. I should say there were little bears, large bears, ordinary bears, and gigantic big bears, all dancing outside from dark to nearly dawn. They came from almost every direction, except from the west over the river, from the Mountains. In that direction only one set of footprints led-none coming, only ones going away from here. I followed these as far as the Carrock. There they disappeared into the river, but the water was too deep and strong beyond the rock for me to cross. It is easy enough, as you remember, to get from this bank to the Carrock by the ford, but on the other side is a cliff standing up from a swirling channel. I had to walk miles before I found a place where the river was wide and shallow enough for me to wade and swim, and then miles back again to pick up the tracks again. By that time it was too late for me to follow them far. They went straight off in the direction of the pine-woods on the east side of the Misty Mountains, where we had our pleasant little party with the Wargs the night before last. And now I think I have answered your first question, too," ended Gandalf, and he sat a long while silent. Bilbo thought he knew what the wizard meant. "What shall we do," he cried, "if he leads all the Wargs and the goblins down here? We shall all be caught and killed! I thought you said he was not 9 friend of theirs." "So I did. And don't be silly! You had better go to bed, your wits are sleepy." The hobbit felt quite crushed, and as there seemed nothing else to do he did go to bed; and while the dwarves were still singing songs he dropped asleep, still puzzling his little head about Beorn, till he dreamed a dream of hundreds of black bears dancing slow heavy dances round and round in the moonlight in the courtyard. Then he woke up when everyone else was asleep, and he heard the same scraping, scuffling, snuffling, and growling as before. Next morning they were all wakened by Beorn himself. "So here you all are still!" he said. He picked up the hobbit and laughed: "Not eaten up by Wargs or goblins or wicked bears yet I see"; and he poked Mr. Baggins' waistcoat most disrespectfully. "Little bunny is getting nice and fat again on bread and honey," he chuckled. "Come and have some more!" So they all went to breakfast with him. Beorn was most jolly for a change; indeed he seemed to be in a splendidly good humour and set them all laughing with his funny stories; nor did they have to wonder long where he had been or why he was so nice to them, for he told them himself. He had been over the river and right back up into the mountains-from which you can guess that he could travel quickly, in bear's shape at any rate. From the burnt wolf - glade he had soon found out that part of their story was true; but he had found more than that: he had caught a Warg and a goblin wandering in the woods. From these he had got news: the goblin patrols were still hunting with Wargs for the dwarves, and they were fiercely angry because of the death of the Great Goblin, and also because of the burning of the chief wolf's nose and the death from the wizard's fire of many of his chief servants. So much they told him when he forced them, but he guessed there was more wickedness than this afoot, and that a great raid of the whole goblin army with their wolf-allies into the lands shadowed by the mountains might soon be made to find the dwarves, or to take vengeance on the men and creatures that lived there, and who they thought must be sheltering them. "It was a good story, that of yours," said Beorn, "but I like it still better now I am sure it is true. You must forgive my not taking your word. If you lived near the edge of Mirkwood, you would take the word of no one that you did not know as well as your brother or better. As it is, I can only say that I have hurried home as fast as I could to see that you were safe, and to offer you any help that I can. I shall think more kindly of dwarves after this. Killed the Great Goblin, killed the Great Goblin!" he chuckled fiercely to himself. "What did you do with the goblin and the Warg?" asked Bilbo suddenly. "Come and see!" said Beorn, and they followed round the house. A goblin's head was stuck outside the gate and a warg-skin was nailed to a tree just beyond. Beorn was a fierce enemy. But now he was their friend, and Gandalf thought it wise to tell him their whole story and the reason of their journey, so that they could get the most help he could offer. This is what he promised to do for them. He would provide ponies for each of them, and a horse for Gandalf, for their journey to the forest, and he would lade them with food to last them for weeks with care, and packed so as to be as easy as possible to carry-nuts, flour, sealed jars of dried fruits, and red earthenware pots of honey, and twice-baked cakes that would keep good a long time, and on a little of which they could march far. The making of these was one of his secrets; but honey was in them, as in most of his foods, and they were good to eat, though they made one thirsty. Water, he said, they would not need to carry this side of the forest, for there were streams and springs along the road. "But your way through Mirkwood is dark, dangerous and difficult," he said. "Water is not easy to find there, nor food. The time is not yet come for nuts (though it may be past and gone indeed before you get to the other side), and nuts are about all that grows there fit for food; in there the wild things are dark, queer, and savage. I will provide you with skins for carrying water, and I will give you some bows and arrows. But I doubt very much whether anything you find in Mirkwood will be wholesome to eat or to drink. There is one stream there, I know, black and strong which crosses the path. That you should neither drink of, nor bathe in; for I have heard that it carries enchantment and a great drowsiness and forgetfulness. And in the dim shadows of that place I don't think you will shoot anything, wholesome or unwholesome, without straying from the path. That you MUST NOT do, for any reason. "That is all the advice I can give you. Beyond the edge of the forest I cannot help you much; you must depend on your luck and your courage and the food I send with you. At the gate of the forest I must ask you to send back my horse and my ponies. But I wish you all speed, and my house is open to you, if ever you come back this way again." They thanked him, of course, with many bows and sweepings of their hoods and with many an "at your service, O master of the wide wooden halls!" But their spirits sank at his grave words, and they all felt that the adventure was far more dangerous than they had thought, while all the time, even if they passed all the perils of the road, the dragon was waiting at the end. All that morning they were busy with preparations. Soon after midday they ate with Beorn for the last time, and after the meal they mounted the steeds he was lending them, and bidding him many farewells they rode off through his gate at a good pace. As soon as they left his high hedges at the east of his fenced lands they turned north and then bore to the north-west. By his advice they were no longer making for the main forest-road to the south of his land. Had they followed the pass, their path would have led them down the stream from the mountains that joined the great river miles south of the Carrock. At that point there was a deep ford which they might have passed, if they had still had their ponies, and beyond that a track led to the skirts of the wood and to the entrance of the old forest road. But Beorn had warned them that that way was now often used by the goblins, while the forest-road itself, he bad heard, was overgrown and disused at the eastern end and led to impassable marshes where the paths had long been lost. Its eastern opening had also always been far to the south of the Lonely Mountain, and would have left them still with a long and difficult northward march when they got to the other side. North of the Carrock the edge of Mirkwood drew closer to the borders of the Great River, and though here the Mountains too drew down nearer, Beorn advised them to take this way; for at a place a few days' ride due north of the Carrock was the gate of a little-known pathway through Mirkwood that led almost straight towards the Lonely Mountain. "The goblins," Beorn had said, "will not dare to cross the Great River for a hundred miles north of the Carrock nor to come near my house - it is well protected at night! - but I should ride fast; for if they make their raid soon they will cross the river to the south and scour all the edge of the forest so as to cut you off, and Wargs run swifter than ponies. Still you are safer going north, even though you seem to be going back nearer to their strongholds; for that is what they will least expect, and they will have the longer ride to catch you. Be off now as quick as you may!" That is why they were now riding in silence, galloping wherever the ground was grassy and smooth, with the mountains dark on their left, and in the distance the line of the river with its trees drawing ever closer. The sun had only just turned west when they started, and till evening it lay golden on the land about them. It was difficult to think of pursuing goblins behind, and when they had put many miles between them and Beorn's house they began to talk and to sing again and to forget the dark forest-path that lay in front. But in the evening when the dusk came on and the peaks of the mountains glowered against the sunset they made a camp and set a guard, and most of them slept uneasily with dreams in which there came the howl of hunting wolves and the cries of goblins. Still the next morning dawned bright and fair again. There was an autumn-like mist white upon the ground and the air was chill, but soon the sun rose red in the East and the mists vanished, and while the shadows were still long they were off again. So they rode now for two more days, and all the while they saw nothing save grass and flowers and birds and scattered trees, and occasionally small herds of red deer browsing or sitting at noon in the shade. Sometimes Bilbo saw the horns of the harts sticking up out of the long grass, and at first he thought they were the dead branches of trees. That third evening they were so eager to press on, for Beorn had said that they should reach the forest-gate early on the fourth day, that they rode still forward after dusk and into the night beneath the moon. As the light faded Bilbo thought he saw away to the right, or to the left, the shadowy form of a great bear prowling along in the same direction. But if he dared to mention it to Gandalf, the wizard only said: "Hush! Take no notice!" Next day they started before dawn, though their night had been short. As soon as it was light they could see the forest coming as it were to meet them, or waiting for them like a black and frowning wall before them. The land began to slope up and up, and it seemed to the hobbit that a silence began to draw in upon them. Birds began to sing less. There were no more deer; not even rabbits were to be seen. By the afternoon they had reached the eaves of Mirkwood, and were resting almost beneath the great overhanging boughs of its outer trees. Their trunks were huge and gnarled, their branches twisted, their leaves were dark and long. Ivy grew on them and trailed along the ground. "Well, here is Mirkwood!" said Gandalf. "The greatest of the forests of the Northern world. I hope you like the look of it. Now you must send back these excellent ponies you have borrowed." The dwarves were inclined to grumble at this, but the wizard told them they were fools. "Beorn is not as far off as you seem to think, and you had better keep your promises anyway, for he is a bad enemy. Mr. Baggins' eyes are sharper than yours, if you have not seen each night after dark a great bear going along with us or sitting far of in the moon watching our camps. Not only to guard you and guide you, but to keep an eye on the ponies too. Beorn may be your friend, but he loves his animals as his children. You do not guess what kindness he has shown you in letting dwarves ride them so far and so fast, nor what would happen to you, if you tried to take them into the forest." "What about the horse, then?" said Thorin. "You don't mention sending that back." "I don't, because I am not sending it." "What about your promise then?" "I will look after that. I am not sending the horse back, I am riding it!" Then they knew that Gandalf was going to leave them at the very edge of Mirkwood, and they were in despair. But nothing they could say would change his mind. "Now we had this all out before, when we landed on the Carrock," he said. "It is no use arguing. I have, as I told you, some pressing business away south; and I am already late through bothering with you people. We may meet again before all is over, and then again of course we may not. That depends on your luck and on your courage and sense; and I am sending Mr. Baggins with you. I have told you before that he has more about him than you guess, and you will find that out before long. So cheer up Bilbo and don't look so glum. Cheer up Thorin and Company! This is your expedition after all. Think of the treasure at the end, and forget the forest and the dragon, at any rate until tomorrow morning!" When tomorrow morning came he still said the same. So now there was nothing left to do but to fill their water-skins at a clear spring they found close to the forest-gate, and unpack the ponies. They distributed the packages as fairly as they could, though Bilbo thought his lot was wearisomely heavy, and did not at all like the idea of trudging for miles and miles with all that on his back. "Don't you worry!" said Thorin. "It will get lighter all too soon. Before long I expect we shall all wish our packs heavier, when the food begins to run short." Then at last they said good-bye to their ponies and turned their heads for home. Off they trotted gaily, seeming very glad to put their tails towards the shadow of Mirkwood. As they went away Bilbo could have sworn that a thing like a bear left the shadow of the trees and shambled off quickly after them. Now Gandalf too said farewell. Bilbo sat on the ground feeling very unhappy and wishing he was beside the wizard on his tall horse. He had gone just inside the forest after breakfast (a very poor one), and it had seemed as dark in there in the morning as at night, and very secret: "a sort of watching and waiting feeling," he said to himself. "Good-bye!" said Gandalf to Thorin. "And good-bye to you all, good-bye! Straight through the forest is your way now. Don't stray off the track!-if you do, it is a thousand to one you will never find it again and never get out of Mirkwood; and then I don't suppose I, or any one else, will ever see you again." "Do we really have to go through?" groaned the hobbit. "Yes, you do!" said the wizard, "if you want to get to the other side. You must either go through or give up your quest. And I am not going to allow you to back out now, Mr. Baggins. I am ashamed of you for thinking of it. You have got to look after all these dwarves for me," he laughed. "No! no!" said Bilbo. "I didn't mean that. I meant, is there no way round?" "There is, if you care to go two hundred miles or so out of your way north, and twice that south. But you wouldn't get a safe path even then. There are no safe paths in this part of the world. Remember you are over the Edge of the Wild now, and in for all sorts of fun wherever you go. Before you could get round Mirkwood in the North you would be right among the slopes of the Grey Mountains, and they are simply stiff with goblins, hobgoblins, and rest of the worst description. Before you could get round it in the South, you would get into the land of the Necromancer; and even you. Bilbo, won't need me to tell you tales of that black sorcerer. I don't advise you to go anywhere near the places overlooked by his dark tower! Stick to the forest-track, keep your spirits up, hope for the best, and with a tremendous slice of luck you may come out one day and see the Long Marshes lying below you, and beyond them, high in the East, the Lonely Mountain where dear old Smaug lives, though I hope he is not expecting you." "Very comforting you are to be sure," growled Thorin. "Good-bye! If you won't come with us, you had better get off without any more talk!" "Good-bye then, and really good-bye!" said Gandalf, and he turned his horse and rode down into the West. But he could not resist the temptation to have the last word. Before he had passed quite out of hearing he turned and put his hands to his mouth and called to them. They heard his voice come faintly: "Good-bye! Be good, take care of yourselves-and DON'T LEAVE THE PATH!" Then he galloped away and was soon lost to sight. "O good-bye and go away!" grunted the dwarves, all the more angry because they were really filled with dismay at losing him. Now began the most dangerous part of all the journey. They each shouldered the heavy pack and the water-skin which was their share, and turned from the light that lay on the lands outside and plunged into the forest.

#Hobbit

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For a long time the dwarves stood in the dark before the door and debated, until at last Thorin spoke: "Now is the time for our esteemed Mr. Baggins, who has proved himself a good companion on our long road, and a hobbit full of courage and resource far exceeding his size, and if I may say so possessed of good luck far exceeding the usual allowance-now is the time for him to perform the service for which he was included in our Company; now is the time for him to earn his Reward." You are familiar with Thorin's style on important occasions, so I will not give you any more of it, though he went on a good deal longer than this. It certainly was an important occasion, but Bilbo felt impatient. By now he was quite familiar with Thorin too, and he knew what be was driving at. "If you mean you think it is my job to go into the secret passage first, O Thorin Thrain's son Oakenshield, may your beard grow ever longer," he said crossly, "say so at once and have done! I might refuse. I have got you out of two messes already, which were hardly in the original bargain, so that I am, I think, already owed some reward. But 'third time pays for all' as my father used to say, and somehow I don't think I shall refuse. Perhaps I have begun to trust my luck more than I used to in the old days" - he meant last spring before he left his own house, but it seemed centuries ago - "but anyway I think I will go and have a peep at once and get it over. Now who is coming with me?" He did not expect a chorus of volunteers, so he was not disappointed. Fili and Kili looked uncomfortable and stood on One leg, but the others made no pretence of offering - except old Balin. the look-out man, who was rather fond the hobbit. He said he would come inside at least and perhaps a bit of the way too, really to call for help if necessary. The most that can be said for the dwarves is this: they intended to pay Bilbo really handsomely for his services; they had brought him to do a nasty job for them, and they did not mind the poor little fellow doing it if he would; but they would all have done their best to get him out of trouble, if he got into it, as they did in the case of the trolls at the beginning of their adventures before they had any particular reasons for being grateful to him. There it is: dwarves are not heroes, but calculating folk with a great idea of the value of money; some are tricky and treacherous and pretty bad lots; some are not, but are decent enough people like Thorin and Company, if you don't expect too much. The stars were coming out behind him in a pale sky barred with black when the hobbit crept through the enchanted door and stole into the Mountain. It was far easier going than he expected. This was no goblin entrance, or rough wood-elves' cave. It was a passage made by dwarves, at the height of their wealth and skill: straight as a ruler, smooth-floored and smooth-sided, going with a gentle never-varying slope direct-to some distant end in the blackness below. After a while Balin bade Bilbo "Good luck!" and stopped where he could still see the faint outline of the door, and by a trick of, the echoes of the tunnel hear the rustle of the whispering voices of the others just outside. Then the hobbit slipped on his ring, and warned by the echoes to take more than hobbit's care to make no sound, he crept noiselessly down, down, down into the dark. He was trembling with fear, but his little face was set and grim. Already he was a very different hobbit from the one that had run out without a pocket-handkerchief from Bag-End long ago. He had not had a pocket-handkerchief for ages. He loosened his dagger in its sheath, tightened his belt, and went on. "Now you are in for it at last, Bilbo Baggins," he said to himself. "You went and put your foot right in it that night of the party, and now you have got to pull it out and pay for it! Dear me, what a fool I was and am!" said the least Tookish part of him. "I have absolutely no use for dragon-guarded treasures, and the whole lot could stay here for ever, if only I could wake up and find this beastly tunnel was my own front-hall at home!" He did not wake up of course, but went still on and on, till all sign of the door behind had faded away. He was altogether alone. Soon he thought it was beginning to feel warm. "Is that a kind of a glow I seem to see coming right ahead down there?" he thought. It was. As he went forward it grew and grew, till there was no doubt about it. It was a red light steadily getting redder and redder. Also it was now undoubtedly hot in the tunnel. Wisps of vapour floated up and past him and he began to sweat. A sound, too, began to throb in his ears, a sort of bubbling like the noise of a large pot galloping on the fire, mixed with a rumble as of a gigantic tom-cat purring. This grew to the unmistakable gurgling noise of some vast animal snoring in its sleep down there in the red glow in front of him. It was at this point that Bilbo stopped. Going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did. The tremendous things that happened afterward were as nothing compared to it. He fought the real battle in the tunnel alone, before he ever saw the vast danger that lay in wait. At any rate after a short halt go on he did; and you can picture him coming to the end of the tunnel, an opening of much the same size and shape as the door above. Through it peeps the hobbit's little head. Before him lies the great bottommost cellar or dungeon-hall of the ancient dwarves right at the Mountain's root. It is almost dark so that its vastaess can only be dimly guessed, but rising from the near side of the rocky floor there is a great glow. The glow of Smaug! There he lay, a vast red-golden dragon, fast asleep; thrumming came from his jaws and nostrils, and wisps of smoke, but his fires were low in slumber. Beneath him, under all his limbs and his huge coiled tail, and about him on all sides stretching away across the unseen floors, lay countless piles of precious things, gold wrought and unwrought, gems and jewels, and silver red-stained in the ruddy light. Smaug lay, with wings folded like an immeasurable bat, turned partly on one side, so that the hobbit could see his underparts and his long pale belly crusted with gems and fragments of gold from his long lying on his costly bed. Behind him where the walls were nearest could dimly be seen coats of mail, helms and axes, swords and spears hanging; and there in rows stood great jars and vessels filled with a wealth that could not be guessed. To say that Bilbo's breath was taken away is no description at all. There are no words left to express his staggerment, since Men changed the language that they learned of elves in the days when all the world was wonderful. Bilbo had heard tell and sing of dragon-hoards before, but the splendour, the lust, the glory of such treasure had never yet come home to him. His heart was filled and pierced with enchantment and with the desire of dwarves; and he gazed motionless, almost forgetting the frightful guardian, at the gold beyond price and count. He gazed for what seemed an age, before drawn almost against his will, he stole from the shadow of the doorway, across the floor to the nearest edge of the mounds of treasure. Above him the sleeping dragon lay, a dire menace even in his sleep. He grasped a great two-handled cup, as heavy as he could carry, and cast one fearful eye upwards. Smaug stirred a wing, opened a claw, the rumble of his snoring changed its note. Then Bilbo fled. But the dragon did not wake-not yet but shifted into other dreams of greed and violence, lying there in his stolen hall while the little hobbit toiled back up the long tunnel. His heart was beating and a more fevered shaking was in his legs than when he was going down, but still he clutched the cup, and his chief thought was: "I've done it! This will show them. 'More like a grocer than a burglar' indeed! Well, we'll hear no more of that." Nor did he. Balin was overjoyed to see the hobbit again, and as delighted as he was surprised. He picked Bilbo up and carried him out into the open air. It was midnight and clouds had covered the stars, but Bilbo lay with his eyes shut, gasping and taking pleasure in the feel of the fresh air again, and hardly noticing the excitement of the dwarves, or how they praised him and patted him on the back and put themselves and all their families for generations to come at his service. The dwarves were still passing the cup from hand to hand and talking delightedly of the recovery of their treasure, when suddenly a vast rumbling woke in the mountain underneath as if it was an old volcano that had made up its mind to start eruptions once again. The door behind them was pulled nearly to, and blocked from closing with a stone, but up the long tunnel came the dreadful echoes, from far down in the depths, of a bellowing and a trampling that made the ground beneath them tremble. Then the dwarves forgot their joy and their confident boasts of a moment before and cowered down in fright. Smaug was still to be reckoned with. It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him. Dragons may not have much real use for all their wealth, but they know it to an ounce as a rule, especially after long possession; and Smaug was no exception. He had passed from an uneasy dream (in which a warrior, altogether insignificant in size but provided with a bitter sword and great courage, figured most unpleasantly) to a doze, and from a doze to wide waking. There was a breath of strange air in his cave. Could there be a draught from that little hole? He had never felt quite happy about it, though was so small, and now he glared at it in suspicion an wondered why he had never blocked it up. Of late he had half fancied he had caught the dim echoes of a knocking sound from far above that came down through it to his lair. He stirred and stretched forth his neck to sniff. Then he missed the cup! Thieves! Fire! Murder! Such a thing had not happened since first he came to the Mountain! His rage passes description - the sort of rage that is only seen when rich folk that have more than they can enjoy suddenly lose something that they have long had but have never before used or wanted. His fire belched forth, the hall smoked, he shook the mountain-roots. He thrust his head in vain at the little hole, and then coiling his length together, roaring like thunder underground, he sped from his deep lair through its great door, out into the huge passages of the mountain-palace and up towards the Front Gate. To hunt the whole mountain till he had caught the thief and had torn and trampled him was his one thought. He issued from the Gate, the waters rose in fierce whistling steam, and up he soared blazing into the air and settled on the mountain-top in a spout of green and scarlet flame. The dwarves heard the awful rumour of his flight, and they crouched against the walls of the grassy terrace cringing under boulders, hoping somehow to escape the frightful eyes of the hunting dragon. There they would have all been killed, if it had not been for Bilbo once again. "Quick! Quick!" he gasped. "The door! The tunnel! It's no good here." Roused by these words they were just about to creep inside the tunnel when Bifur gave a cry: "My cousins! Bombur and Bofur - we have forgotten them, they are down in the valley!" "They will be slain, and all our ponies too, and all out stores lost," moaned the others. "We can do nothing." "Nonsense!" said Thorin, recovering his dignity. "We cannot leave them. Get inside Mr. Baggins and Balin, and you two Fili and Kili-the dragon shan't have all of us. Now you others, where are the ropes? Be quick!" Those were perhaps the worst moments they had been through yet. The horrible sounds of Smaug's anger were echoing in the stony hollows far above; at any moment he might come blazing down or fly whirling round and find them there, near the perilous cliff's edge hauling madly on the ropes. Up came Bofur, and still all was safe. Up came Bombur, puffing and blowing while the ropes creaked, and still all was safe. Up came some tools and bundles of stores, and then danger was upon them. A whirring noise was heard. A red light touched the points of standing rocks. The dragon came. They had barely time to fly back to the tunnel, pulling and dragging in their bundles, when Smaug came hurtling from the North, licking the mountain-sides with flame, beating his great wings with a noise like a roaring wind. His hot breath shrivelled the grass before the door, and drove in through the crack they had left and scorched them as they lay hid. Flickering fires leaped up and black rock-shadows danced. Then darkness fell as he passed again. The ponies screamed with terror, burst their ropes and galloped wildly off. The dragon swooped and turned to pursue them, and was gone. "That'll be the end of our poor beasts!" said Thorin. "Nothing can escape Smaug once he sees it. Here we are and here we shall have to stay, unless any one fancies tramping the long open miles back to the river with Smaug on the watch!" It was not a pleasant thought! They crept further down the tunnel, and there they lay and shivered though it was warm and stuffy, until dawn came pale through the crack of the door. Every now and again through the night they could hear the roar of the flying dragon grow and then pass and fade, as he hunted round and round the mountain-sides. He guessed from the ponies, and from the traces of the camps he had discovered, that men had come up from the river and the lake and had scaled the mountain-side from the valley where the ponies had been standing; but the door withstood his searching eye, and the little high-walled bay had kept out his fiercest flames. Long he had hunted in vain till the dawn chilled his wrath and he went back to his golden couch to sleep - and to gather new strength. He would not forget or forgive the theft, not if a thousand years turned him to smouldering stone, but he could afford to wait. Slow and silent he crept back to his lair and half closed his eyes. When morning came the terror of the dwarves grew less. They realized that dangers of this kind were inevitable in dealing with such a guardian, and that it was no good giving up their quest yet. Nor could they get away just now, as Thorin had pointed out. Their ponies were lost or killed, and they would have to wait some time before Smaug relaxed his watch sufficiently for them to dare the long way on foot. Luckily they had saved enough of their stores to last them still for some time. They debated long on what was to be done, but they could think of no way of getting rid of Smaug - which had always been a weak point in their plans, as Bilbo felt inclined to point out. Then as is the nature of folk that are thoroughly perplexed, they began to grumble at the hobbit, blaming him for what had at first so pleased them: for bringing away a cup and stirring up Smaug's wrath so soon. "What else do you suppose a burglar is to do?" asked Bilbo angrily. "I was not engaged to kill dragons, that is warrior's work, but to steal treasure. I made the best beginning I could. Did you expect me to trot back with the whole hoard of Thror on my back? If there is any grumbling to be done, I think I might have a say. You ought to have brought five hundred burglars not one. I am sure it reflects great credit on your grandfather, but you cannot pretend that you ever made the vast extent of his wealth clear to me. I should want hundreds of years to bring it all up, if I was fifty times as big, and Smaug as tame as a rabbit." After that of course the dwarves begged his pardon. "What then do you propose we should do, Mr. Baggins?" asked Thorin politely. "I have no idea at the moment - if you mean about removing the treasure. That obviously depends entirely on some new turn of luck and the getting rid of Smaug. Getting rid of dragons is not at all in my line, but I will do my best to think about it. Personally I have no hopes at all, and wish I was safe back at home." "Never mind that for the moment! What are we to do now, to-day?" "Well, if you really want my advice, I should say we can do nothing but stay where we are. By day we can no doubt creep out safely enough to take the air. Perhaps before long one or two could be chosen to go back to the store by the river and replenish our supplies. But in the meanwhile everyone ought to be well inside the tunnel by night. "Now I will make you an offer. I have got my ring and will creep down this very noon-then if ever Smaug ought to be napping-and see what he is up to. Perhaps something will turn up. 'Every worm has his weak spot,' as my father used to say, though I am sure it was not from personal experience." Naturally the dwarves accepted the offer eagerly. Already they had come to respect little Bilbo. Now he had become the real leader in their adventure. He had begun to have ideas and plans of his own. When midday came he got ready for another journey down into the Mountain. He did not like it of course, but it was not so bad now he knew, more or less, what was in front of him. Had he known more about dragons and their wily ways, he might have teen more frightened and less hopeful of catching this one napping. The sun was shining when he started, but it was as dark as night in the tunnel. The light from the door, almost closed, soon faded as he went down. So silent was his going that smoke on a gentle wind could hardly have surpasses it, and he was inclined to feel a bit proud of himself as he drew near the lower door. There was only the very fainter glow to be seen. "Old Smaug is weary and asleep," he thought. "He can't, see me and he won't hear me. Cheer up Bilbo!" He had forgotten or had never heard about dragons' sense of smell. It is also an awkward fact that they keep half an eye open watching while they sleep, if they are suspicious. Smaug certainly looked fast asleep, almost dead and dark, with scarcely a snore more than a whiff of unseen steam, when Bilbo peeped once more from the entrance. He was just about to step out on to the floor when he caught a sudden thin and piercing ray of red from under the drooping lid. of Smaug's left eye. He was only pretending to sleep! He was watching the tunnel entrance! Hurriedly Bilbo stepped back and blessed the luck of his ring. Then Smaug spoke. "Well, thief! I smell you and I feel your air. I hear your breath. Come along! Help yourself again, there is plenty and to spare!" But Bilbo was not quite so unlearned in dragon-lore as all that, and if Smaug hoped to get him to come nearer so easily he was disappointed. "No thank you, O Smaug the. Tremendous!" he replied. "I did not come for presents. I only wished to have a look at you and see if you were truly as great as tales say. I did not believe them." "Do you now?" said the dragon somewhat flattered, even though he did not believe a word of it. j "Truly songs and tales fall utterly short of the reality, O Smaug the Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities," replied Bilbo. You have nice manners for a thief and a liar," said the dragon. "You seem familiar with my name, but I don't seem to remember smelling you before. Who are you and where do you come from, may I ask?" "You may indeed! I come from under the hill, and under hills and over the hills my paths led. And through the air, I am he that walks unseen." "So I can well believe," said Smaug, "but that is hardly our usual name." "I am the clue-finder, the web-cutter, the stinging fly. I as chosen for the lucky number." "Lovely titles!" sneered the dragon. "But lucky numbers don't always come off." "I am he that buries his friends alive and drowns them and draws them alive again from the water. I came from the end of a bag, but no bag went over me." "These don't sound so creditable," scoffed Smaug. "I am the friend of bears and the guest of eagles. I am Ringwinner and Luckwearer; and I am Barrel-rider," went on Bilbo beginning to be pleased with his riddling. "That's better!" said Smaug. "But don't let your imagination run away with you!" This of course is the way to talk to dragons, if you don't want to reveal your proper name (which is wise), and don't want to infuriate them by a flat refusal (which is also very wise). No dragon can resist the fascination of riddling talk and of wasting time trying to understand it. There was a lot here which Smaug did not understand at all (though I expect you do, since you know all about Bilbo's adventures to which he was referring), but he thought he understood enough, and he chuckled in his wicked inside. "I thought so last night," he smiled to himself. "Lake-men, some nasty scheme of those miserable tub-trading Lake-men, or I'm a lizard. I haven't been down that way for an age and an age; but I will soon alter that!" "Very well, O Barrel-rider!" he said aloud. "Maybe Barrel was your pony's name; and maybe not, though it was fat enough. You may walk unseen, but you did not walk all the way. Let me tell you I ate six ponies last night and I shall catch and eat all the others before long. In return for the excellent meal I will give you one piece of advice for your good: don't have more to do with dwarves than you can help!" "Dwarves!" said Bilbo in pretended surprise. "Don't talk to me!" said Smaug. "I know the smell (and taste) of dwarf-no one better. Don't tell me that I can eat a dwarf-ridden pony and not know it! You'll come to a bad end, if you go with such friends. Thief Barrel-rider. I don't mind if you go back and tell them so from me." But he did not tell Bilbo that there was one smell he could not make out at all, hobbit-smell; it was quite outside his experience and puzzled him mightily. "I suppose you got a fair price for that cup last night?" he went on. "Come now, did you? Nothing at all! Well, that's just like them. And I suppose they are skulking outside, and your job is to do all the dangerous work and get what you can when I'm not looking-for them? And you will get a fair share? Don't you believe it! If you get off alive, you will be lucky." Bilbo was now beginning to feel really uncomfortable. Whenever Smaug's roving eye, seeking for him in the shadows, flashed across him, he trembled, and an unaccountable desire seized hold of him to rush out and reveal himself and tell all the truth to Smaug. In fact he was in grievous danger of coming under the dragon-spell. But plucking up courage he spoke again. "You don't know everything, O Smaug the Mighty," said he. "Not gold alone brought us hither." "Ha! Ha! You admit the 'us'," laughed Smaug. "Why not say 'us fourteen' and be done with it. Mr. Lucky Number? I am pleased to hear that you had other business in these parts besides my gold. In that case you may, perhaps, not altogether waste your time. "I don't know if it has occurred to you that, even if you could steal the gold bit by bit-a matter of a hundred years or so - you could not get it very far? Not much use on the mountain-side? Not much use in the forest? Bless me! Had you never thought of the catch? A fourteenth share, I suppose, Or something like it, those were the terms, eh? But what about delivery? What about cartage? What about armed guards and tolls?" And Smaug laughed aloud. He had a wicked and a wily heart, and he knew his guesses were not far out, though he suspected that the Lake-men were at the back of the plans, and that most of the plunder was meant to stop there in the town by the shore that in his young days had been called Esgaroth. You will hardly believe it, but poor Bilbo was really very taken aback. So far all his. thoughts and energies had been concentrated on getting to the Mountain and finding the entrance. He had never bothered to wonder how the treasure was to be removed, certainly never how any part of it that might fall to his share was to be brought back all the way to Bag-End Under-Hill. Now a nasty suspicion began to grow in his mind-had the dwarves forgotten this important point too, or were they laughing in their sleeves at him all the time? That is the effect that dragon-talk has on the inexperienced. Bilbo of course ought to have been on his guard; but Smaug had rather an overwhelming personality. "I tell you," he said, in an effort to remain loyal to his friends and to keep his end up, "that gold was only an afterthought with us. We came over hill and under hill, by wave and win, for "Revenge". Surely, O Smaug the unassessably wealthy, you must realize that your success has made you some bitter enemies?" Then Smaug really did laugh-a devastating sound which shook Bilbo to the floor, while far up in the tunnel the dwarves huddled together and imagined that the hobbit had come to a sudden and a nasty end. "Revenge!" he snorted, and the light of his eyes lit the the hall from floor to ceiling like scarlet lightning. "Revenge! The King under the Mountain is dead and where are hi kin that dare seek revenge? Girion Lord of Dale is dead, and I have eaten his people like a wolf among sheep, and where are his sons' sons that dare approach me? I kill where I wish and none dare resist. I laid low the warriors of old and their like is not in the world today. Then I was but young and tender. Now I am old and strong, strong strong. Thief in the Shadows!" he gloated. "My armour is like tenfold shields, my teeth are swords, my claws spears, the shock of my tail a thunderbolt, my wings a hurricane, and my breath death!" "I have always understood," said Bilbo in a frightened squeak, "that dragons were softer underneath, especially in the region of the-er-chest; but doubtless one so fortified has thought of that." The dragon stopped short in his boasting. "Your information is antiquated," he snapped. "I am armoured above and below with iron scales and hard gems. No blade can pierce me." "I might have guessed it," said Bilbo. "Truly there can; nowhere be found the equal of Lord Smaug the Impenetrable. What magnificence to possess a waistcoat of fine diamonds!" "Yes, it is rare and wonderful, indeed," said Smaug absurdly pleased. He did not know that the hobbit had already caught a glimpse of his peculiar under-covering on his previous visit, and was itching for a closer view for reasons of his own. The dragon rolled over. "Look!" he said. "What do you say to that?" "Dazzlingly marvellous! Perfect! Flawless! Staggering!" exclaimed Bilbo aloud, but what he thought inside was: "Old fool! Why there is a large patch in the hollow of his left breast as bare as a snail out of its shell!" After he had seen that Mr. Baggins' one idea was to get away. "Well, I really must not detain Your Magnificence any longer," he said, "or keep you from much needed rest. Ponies take some catching, I believe, after a long start. And so do burglars," he added as a parting shot, as he darted back and fled up the tunnel. It was an unfortunate remark, for the dragon spouted terrific flames after him, and fast though he sped up the slope, he had not gone nearly far enough to be comfortable before the ghastly head of Smaug was thrust against the opening behind. Luckily the whole head and jaws could not squeeze in, but the nostrils sent forth fire and vapour to pursue him, and he was nearly overcome, and stumbled blindly on in great pain and fear. He had been feeling rather pleased with the cleverness of his conversation with Smaug, but his mistake at the end shook him into better sense. "Never laugh at live dragons, Bilbo you fool!" he said to himself, and it became a favourite saying of his later, and passed into a proverb. "You aren't nearly through this adventure yet," he added, and that was pretty true as well. The afternoon was turning into evening when he came out again and stumbled and fell in a faint on the 'door-step.' The dwarves revived him, and doctored his scorches as well as they could; but it was a long time before the hair on the back of his head and his heels grew properly again: it had all been singed and frizzled right down to the skin. In the meanwhile his friends did their best to cheer him up; and they were eager for his story, especially wanting to know why the dragon had made such an awful noise, and how Bilbo had escaped. But the hobbit was worried and uncomfortable, and they had difficulty in getting anything out of him. On thinking things over he was now regretting some of the things he had said to the dragon, and was not eager to repeat them. The old thrush was sitting on a rock near by with his head cocked on one side, listening to all that was said. It shows what an ill temper Bilbo was in: he picked up a stone and threw it at the thrush, which merely fluttered aside and came back. "Drat the bird!" said Bilbo crossly. "I believe he is listening, and I don't like the look of him." "Leave him alone!" said Thorin. "The thrushes are good and friendly-this is a very old bird indeed, and is maybe the last left of the ancient breed that used to live about here, tame to the hands of my father and grandfather. They were a long-lived and magical race, and this might even be one of those that were alive then, a couple of hundreds years or more ago. The Men of Dale used to have the trick of understanding their language, and used them for messengers to fly to the Men of the Lake and elsewhere." "Well, he'll have news to take to Lake-town all right, if that is what he is after," said Bilbo; "though I don't suppose there are any people left there that trouble with thrush-language." "Why what has happened?" cried the dwarves. "Do get on with your tale!" So Bilbo told them all he could remember, and he confessed that he had a nasty feeling that the dragon guessed too much from his riddles added to the camps and the ponies. "I am sure he knows we came from Lake-town and had help from there; and I have a horrible feeling that his next move may be in that direction. I wish to goodness I had never said that about Barrel-rider; it would make even a blind rabbit in these parts think of the Lake-men." "Well, well! It cannot be helped, and it is difficult not to slip in talking to a dragon, or so I have always heard," said Balin anxious to comfort him. "I think you did very well, if you ask me-you found out one very useful thing at any rate, and got home alive, and that is more than most can say who have had words with the likes of Smaug. It may be a mercy and a blessing yet to know of the bare patch in the old Worm's diamond waistcoat." That turned the conversation, and they all began discussing dragon-slayings historical, dubious, and mythical, and the various sorts of stabs and jabs and undercuts, and the different arts, devices and stratagems by which they had been accomplished. The general opinion was that catching a dragon napping was not as easy as it sounded, and the attempt to stick one or prod one asleep was more likely to end in disaster than a bold frontal attack. All the while they talked the thrush listened, till at last when the stars began to peep forth, it silently spread its wings and flew away. And all the while they talked and the shadows lengthened Bilbo became more and more unhappy and his foreboding At last he interrupted them. "I am sure we are very unsafe here," he said, "and I don't see the point of sitting here. The dragon has withered all the pleasant green, and anyway the night has come and it is cold. But I feel it in my bones that this place will be attacked again. Smaug knows now how I came down to his hall, and you can trust him to guess where the other end of the tunnel is. He will break all this side of the Mountain to bits, if necessary, to stop up our entrance, and if we are smashed with it the better he will like it." "You are very gloomy, Mr. Baggins!" said Thorin. "Why has not Smaug blocked the lower end, then, if he is so eager to keep us out? He has not, or we should have heard him." "I don't know, I don't know-because at first he wanted to try and lure me in again, I suppose, and now perhaps because he is waiting till after tonight's hunt, or because he does not want to damage his bedroom if he can help it - but I wish you would not argue. Smaug will be coming out at any minute now, and our only hope is to get well in the tunnel and shut the door." He seemed so much in earnest that the dwarves at last did as he said, though they delayed shutting the door-it seemed a desperate plan, for no one knew whether or how they could get it open again from the inside, and the thought of being shut in a place from which the only way out led through the dragon's lair was not one they liked. Also everything seemed quite quiet, both outside and down the tunnel. So for a longish while they sat inside not far down from the half-open door and went on talking. The talk turned to the dragon's wicked words about the dwarves. Bilbo wished he had never heard them, or at least that he could feel quite certain that the dwarves now were absolutely honest when they declared that they had never thought at all about what would happen after the treasure had been won. "We knew it would be a desperate venture," said Thorin, "and we know that still; and I still think that when we have won it will be time enough to think what to do about it. As for your share, Mr. Baggins, I assure you we are more than grateful and you shall choose you own fourteenth, as soon as we have anything to divide, am sorry if you are worried about transport, and I admit the difficulties are great-the lands have not become less wild with the passing of time, rather the reverse-but we will do whatever we can for you, and take our share of the cost when the time comes. Believe me or not as you like!" From that the talk turned to the great hoard itself and to the things that Thorin and Balin remembered. They wondered if they were still lying there.unharmed in the hall below: the spears that were made for the armies of the great King Bladorthin (long since dead), each had a thrice-forged head and their shafts were inlaid with cunning gold, but they were never delivered or paid for; shields made for warriors long dead; the great golden cup of Thror, two-handed, hammered and carven with birds and flowers whose eyes and petals were of jewels; coats of mail gilded and silvered and impenetrable; the necklace of Girion, Lord of Dale, made of five hundred emeralds green as grass, which he gave for the arming of his eldest son in a coat of dwarf-linked rings the like of which had never been made before, for it was wrought of pure silver to the power and strength of triple steel. But fairest of all was the great white gem, which the dwarves had found beneath the roots of the Mountain, the Heart of the Mountain, the Arkenstone of Thrain. "The Arkenstone! The Arkenstone!" murmured Thorin in the dark, half dreaming with his chin upon his knees. "It was like a globe with a thousand facets; it shone like silver in the firelight, like water in the sun, like snow under the stars, like rain upon the Moon!" But the enchanted desire of the hoard had fallen from Bilbo. All through their talk he was only half listening to them. He sat nearest to the door with one ear cocked for any beginnings of a sound without, his other was alert or echoes beyond the murmurs of the dwarves, for any whisper of a movement from far below. Darkness grew deeper and he grew ever more uneasy. "Shut the door!" he begged them. "I fear that dragon in my marrow. I like this silence far less than the uproar of last night. Shut the door before it is too late!" Something in his voice gave the dwarves an uncomfortable feeling. Slowly Thorin shook off his dreams and getting up he kicked away the stone that wedged the door. Then they thrust upon it, and it closed with a snap and a clang. No trace of a keyhole was there left on the inside. They were shut in the Mountain! And not a moment too soon. They had hardly gone any distance down the tunnel when a blow smote the side of the Mountain like the crash of battering-rams made of forest oaks and swung by giants. The rock boomed, the walls cracked and stones fell from the roof on their heads. What would have happened if the door had still been open I don't like to think. They fled further down the tunnel glad to be still alive, while behind them outside they heard the roar and rumble of Smaug's fury. He was breaking rocks to pieces, smashing wall and cliff with the lashings of his huge tail, till their little lofty camping ground, the scorched grass, the thrush's stone, the snail-covered walls, the narrow ledge, and all disappeared in a jumble of smithereens, and an avalanche of splintered stones fell over the cliff into the valley below. Smaug had left his lair in silent stealth, quietly soared into the air, and then floated heavy and slow in the dark like a monstrous crow, down the wind towards the west of the Mountain, in the hopes of catching unawares something or somebody there, and of spying the outlet to the passage which the thief had used. This was the outburst of his wrath when he could find nobody and see nothing, even where he guessed the outlet must actually be. After he had let off his rage in this way he felt better and he thought in his heart that he would not be troubled again from that direction. In-the meanwhile he had further vengeance to take. "Barrel-rider!" he snorted. "Your fee came from the waterside and up the water you came with out a doubt. I don't know your smell, but if you are not one of those men of the Lake, you had their help. They shall see me and remember who is the real King under the Mountain!" He rose in fire and went away south towards the Running River.

#Hobbit

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