A Long Strange Journey

Not At Home

In his haste to escape, Bilbo nearly crashed into Thorin, who had braved the tunnel to meet him.

"You're alive!" said Thorin.

"Not for much longer!" said Bilbo.

"Did you find the Arkenstone?"

"The dragon's coming!" cried the hobbit.

"The Arkenstone!" said Thorin sternly. "Did you find it?"

Seeing the look in the Dwarf's eyes, Bilbo hesitated for a moment.

"No, we have to get out," said the hobbit taking a step to leave, but the Dwarf stopped him by placing his sword in front of him to block the way. "Thorin." Thorin used his sword to push Bilbo back. "Thorin!" The Dwarf kept his sword pointed at the hobbit looking at him threateningly, but then he noticed that the hobbit's eyes were no longer on the blade before him. Bilbo, who could stand no longer after everything he had just been through, stumbled and fell in a faint. It was only then that Thorin became fully aware of what he had been about to do to his little friend, and finally noticed that the hobbit had not escaped entirely unscathed.

The evening had grown late into the night when Thorin came carrying the hobbit back out on to the 'doorstep'. 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 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; 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. And any way there was no time for any of that at the moment. 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.

The Dragon's rage had passed beyond 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, though not a single coin had actually been taken. 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 gad 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 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 rumor 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 our 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!"