hobbit

great river from the South and was carted past the falls to their town; but in the great
days of old, when Dale in the North was rich and prosperous, they had been wealthy and
powerful, and there had been fleets of boats on the waters, and some were filled with
gold and some with warriors in armour, and there had been wars and deeds which were
now only a legend. The rotting piles of a greater town could still be seen along the
shores when the waters sank in a drought.
But men remembered little of all that, though some still sang old songs of the dwarfkings
of the Mountain, Thror and Thrain of the race of Durin, and of the coming of the
Dragon, and the fall of the lords of Dale. Some sang too that Thror and Thrain would
come back one day and gold would flow in rivers through the mountain-gates, and all
that land would be filled with new song and new laughter. But this pleasant legend did
not much affect their daily business.
As soon as the raft of barrels came in sight boats rowed out from the piles of the town,
and voices hailed the raft-steerers. Then ropes were cast and oars were pulled, and
soon the raft was drawn out of the current of the Forest River and towed away round the
high shoulder of rock into the little bay of Lake-town. There it was moored not far from
the shoreward head of the great bridge. Soon men would come up from the South and
take some of the casks away, and others they would fill with goods they had brought to
be taken back up the stream to the Wood-elves' home. In the meanwhile the barrels
were left afloat while the elves of the raft and the boatmen went to feast in Lake-town.
They would have been surprised, if they could have seen what happened down by the
shore, after they had gone and the shades of night had fallen.
First of all a barrel was cut loose by Bilbo and pushed to the shore and opened. Groans
came from inside, and out crept a most unhappy dwarf. Wet straw was in his draggled
beard; he was so sore and stiff, so bruised and buffeted he could hardly stand or
stumble through the shallow water to lie groaning on the shore. He had a famished and
a savage look like a dog that has been chained and forgotten in a kennel for a week. It
was Thorin, but you could only have told it by his golden chain, and by the colour of his
now dirty and tattered sky-blue hood with its tarnished silver tassel. It was some time
before he would be even polite to the hobbit.
"Well, are you alive or are you dead?" asked Bilbo quite crossly. Perhaps he had
forgotten that he had had at least one good meal more than the dwarves, and also the
use of his arms and legs, not to speak of a greater allowance of air. "Are you still in
prison, or are you free? If you want food, and if you want to go on with this silly
adventure- it's yours after all and not mine-you had better slap your arms and rub your
legs and try and help me get the others out while there is a chance!"
Thorin of course saw the sense of this, so after a few more groans he got up and helped
the hobbit as well as he could. In the darkness floundering in the cold water they had a
difficult and very nasty job finding which were the right barrels. Knocking outside and
calling only discovered about six dwarves that could answer. They were unpacked and
helped ashore where they sat or lay muttering and moaning; they were so soaked and
bruised and cramped that they could hardly yet realize their release or be properly
thankful for it.
Dwalin and Balin were two of the most unhappy, and it was no good asking them to help.
Bifur and Bofur were less knocked about and drier, but they lay down and would do
nothing. Fili and Kili, however, who were young (for dwarves) and had also been packed
more neatly with plenty of straw into smaller casks, came out more or less smiling, with
only a bruise or two and a stiffness that soon wore off.
"I hope I never smell the smell of apples again!" said Fili. "My tub was full of it. To smell
apples everlastingly when you can scarcely move and are cold and sick with hunger is