hobbit

to straggle on just as before, and in the forest they could see no change. Yet if they had
known more about it and considered the meaning of the hunt and the white deer that
had appeared upon their path, they would have known that they were at last drawing
towards the eastern edge, and would soon have come, if they could have kept up their
courage and their hope, to thinner trees and places where the sunlight came again.
But they did not know this, and they were burdened with the heavy body of Bombur,
which they had to carry along with them as best they could, taking the wearisome task in
turns of four each while the others shared their packs. If these had not become all too
light in the last few days, they would never have managed it; but a slumbering and
smiling Bombur was a poor exchange for packs filled with food however heavy. In a few
days a time came when there was practically nothing left to eat or to drink. Nothing
wholesome could they see growing in the woods, only funguses and herbs with pale
leaves and unpleasant smell.
About four days from the enchanted stream they came to a part where most of the trees
were beeches. They were at first inclined to be cheered by the change, for here there
was no undergrowth and the shadow was not so deep.
There was a greenish light about them, and in places they could see some distance to
either side of the path. Yet the light only showed them endless lines of straight grey
trunks like the pillars of some huge twilight hall.
There was a breath of air and a noise of wind, but it had a sad sound. A few leaves
came rustling down to remind them that outside autumn was coming on.
Their feet ruffled among the dead leaves of countless other autumns that drifted over the
banks of the path from the deep red carpets of the forest.
Still Bombur slept and they grew very weary. At times they heard disquieting laughter.
Sometimes there was singing in the distance too. The laughter was the laughter of fair
voices not of goblins, and the singing was beautiful, but it sounded eerie and strange,
and they were not comforted, rather they hurried on from those parts with what strength
they had left.
Two days later they found their path going downwards and before long they were in a
valley filled almost entirely with a mighty growth of oaks.
"Is there no end to this accursed forest?" said Thorin.
"Somebody must climb a tree and see if he can get his head above the roof and have a
look round. The only way is to choose the tallest tree that overhangs the path."
Of course "somebody" meant Bilbo. They chose him because to be of any use the
climber must get his head above the topmost leaves, and so he must be light enough for
the highest and slenderest branches to bear him. Poor Mr. Baggins had never had much
practice in climbing trees, but they hoisted him up into the lowest branches of an
enormous oak that grew right out into the path, and up he had to go as best he could. He
pushed his way through the tangled twigs with many a slap in the eye; he was greened
and grimed from the old bark of the greater boughs; more than once he slipped and
caught himself just in time; and at last, after a dreadful struggle in a difficult place where
there seemed to be no convenient branches at all, he got near the top. All the time he
was wondering whether there were spiders in the tree, and how he was going to get
down again (except by falling).
In the end he poked his head above the roof of leaves, and then he found spiders all
right. But they were only small ones of ordinary size, and they were after the butterflies.
Bilbo's eyes were nearly blinded by the light. He could hear the dwarves shouting up at
him from far below, but he could not answer, only hold on and blink. The sun was
shining brilliantly, and it was a long while before he could bear it. When he could, he saw
all round him a sea of dark green, ruffled here and there by the breeze; and there were
everywhere hundreds of butterflies. I expect they were a kind of 'purple emperor,' a