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harder, and deeper and deeper into the Tun, until some twenty feet of the pole have gone down.

Now, the people of the Pequod had been baling some time in this way; several tubs had been filled with the fragrant sperm; when all at once a queer accident happened. Whether it was that Tashtego, that wild Indian, was so heedless and reckless as to let go for a moment his one-handed hold on the great cabled tackles suspending the head; or whether the place where he stood was so treacherous and oozy; or whether the Evil One himself would have it to fall out so, without stating his particular reasons; how it was exactly, there is no telling now; but, on a sudden, as the eightieth or ninetieth bucket came suckingly up -- my God! poor Tashtego -- like the twin reciprocating bucket in a veritable well, dropped head- foremost down into this great Tun of Heidelburgh, and with a horrible oily gurgling, went clean out of sight!

'Man overboard!' cried Daggoo, who amid the general consternation first came to his senses. 'Swing the bucket this way!' and putting one foot into it, so as the better to secure his slippery hand-hold on the whip itself, the hoisters ran him high up to the top of the head, almost before Tashtego could have reached its interior bottom. Meantime, there was a terrible tumult. Looking over the side, they saw the before lifeless head throbbing and heaving just below the surface of the sea, as if that moment seized with some momentous idea; whereas it was only the poor Indian unconsciously revealing by those struggles the perilous depth to which he had sunk.

At this instant, while Daggoo, on the summit of the head, was clearing the whip -- which had somehow got foul of the great cutting tackles -- a sharp cracking noise was heard; and to the unspeakable horror of all, one of the two enormous hooks suspending the head tore out, and with a vast vibration the enormous mass sideways swung, till the drunk ship reeled and shook as if smitten by an iceberg. The one remaining hook, upon which the entire strain now depended, seemed every instant to be on the point of giving way; an event still more likely from the violent motions of the head.

'Come down, come down!' yelled the seamen to Daggoo, but


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with one hand holding on to the heavy tackles, so that if the head should drop, he would still remain suspended; the negro having cleared the foul line, rammed down the bucket into the now collapsed well, meaning that the buried harpooneer should grasp it, and so be hoisted out.

'In heaven's name, man,' cried Stubb, 'are you ramming home a cartridge there? -- Avast! How will that help him; jamming that iron-bound bucket on top of his head? Avast, will ye!'

'Stand clear of the tackle!' cried a voice like the bursting of a rocket.

Almost in the same instant, with a thunder- boom, the enormous mass dropped into the sea, like Niagara's Table-Rock into the whirlpool; the suddenly relieved hull rolled away from it, to far down her glittering copper; and all caught their breath, as half swinging -- now over the sailors' heads, and now over the water -- Daggoo, through a thick mist of spray, was dimly beheld clinging to the pendulous tackles, while poor, buried-alive Tashtego was sinking utterly down to the bottom of the sea! But hardly had the blinding vapor cleared away, when a naked figure with a boarding-sword in its hand, was for one swift moment seen hovering over the bulwarks. The next, a loud splash announced that my brave Queequeg had dived to the rescue. One packed rush was made to the side, and every eye counted every ripple, as moment followed moment, and no sign of either the sinker or the diver could be seen. Some hands now jumped into a boat alongside, and pushed a little off from the ship.

'Ha! ha!' cried Daggoo, all at once, from his now quiet, swinging perch overhead; and looking further off from the side, we saw an arm thrust upright from the blue waves; a sight strange to see, as an arm thrust forth from the grass over a grave.

'Both! both! -- it is both! -- '.cried Daggoo again with a joyful shout; and soon after, Queequeg was seen boldly striking out with one hand, and with the other clutching the long hair of the Indian. Drawn into the waiting boat, they were quickly brought to the deck; but Tashtego was long in coming to, and Queequeg did not look very brisk.


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Now, how had this noble rescue been accomplished? Why, diving after the slowly descending head, Queequeg with his keen sword had made side lunges near its bottom, so as to scuttle a large hole there; then dropping his sword, had thrust his long arm far inwards and upwards, and so hauled out our poor Tash by the head. He averred, that upon first thrusting in for him, a leg was presented; but well knowing that that was not as it ought to be, and might occasion great trouble; -- he had thrust back the leg, and by a dexterous heave and toss, had wrought a somerset upon the Indian; so that with the next trial, he came forth in the good old way -- head foremost. As for the great head itself, that was doing as well as could be expected.

And thus, through the courage and great skill in obstetrics of Queequeg, the deliverance, or rather, delivery of Tashtego, was successfully accomplished, in the teeth, too, of the most untoward and apparently hopeless impediments; which is a lesson by no means to be forgotten. Midwifery should be taught in the same course with fencing and boxing, riding and rowing.

I know that this queer adventure of the Gay-Header's will be sure to seem incredible to some landsmen, though they themselves may have either seen or heard of some one's falling into a cistern ashore; an accident which not seldom happens, and with much less reason too than the Indian's, considering the exceeding slipperiness of the curb of the Sperm Whale's well.

But, peradventure, it may be sagaciously urged, how is this? We thought the tissued, infiltrated head of the Sperm Whale, was the lightest and most corky part about him; and yet thou makest it sink in an element of a far greater specific gravity than itself. We have thee there. Not at all, but I have ye; for at the time poor Tash fell in, the case had been nearly emptied of its lighter contents, leaving little but the dense tendinous wall of the well -- a double welded, hammered substance, as I have before said, much heavier than the sea water, and a lump of which sinks in it like lead almost. But the tendency to rapid sinking in this substance was in the present instance materially counteracted by the other parts of the head remaining undetached from it, so that it sank very slowly and deliberately indeed, affording Queequeg a fair chance for performing his agile


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obstetrics on the run, as you may say. Yes, it was a running delivery, so it was.

Now, had Tashtego perished in that head, it had been a very precious perishing; smothered in the very whitest and daintiest of fragrant spermaceti; coffined, hearsed, and tombed in the secret inner chamber and sanctum sanctorum of the whale. Only one sweeter end can readily be recalled -- the delicious death of an Ohio honey-hunter, who seeking honey in the crotch of a hollow tree, found such exceeding store of it, that leaning too far over, it sucked him in, so that he died embalmed. How many, think ye, have likewise fallen into Plato's honey head, and sweetly perished there?



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Chapter lxxix
THE PRAIRE

To scan the lines of his face, or feel the bumps on the head of this Leviathan; this is a thing which no Physiognomist or Phrenologist has as yet undertaken. Such an enterprise would seem almost as hopeful as for Lavater to have scrutinized the wrinkles on the Rock of Gibraltar, or for Gall to have mounted a ladder and manipulated the Dome of the Pantheon. Still, in that famous work of his, Lavater not only treats of the various faces of men, but also attentively studies the faces of horses, birds, serpents, and fish; and dwells in detail upon the modifications of expression discernible therein. Nor have Gall and his disciple Spurzheim failed to throw out some hints touching the phrenological characteristics of other beings than man. Therefore, though I am but ill qualified for a pioneer, in the application of these two semi-sciences to the whale, I will do my endeavor. I try all things; I achieve what I can.

Physiognomically regarded, the Sperm Whale is an anomalous creature. He has no proper nose. And since the nose is the central and most conspicuous of the features; and since it perhaps


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most modifies and finally controls their combined expression; hence it would seem that its entire absence, as an external appendage, must very largely affect the countenance of the whale. For as in landscape gardening, a spire, cupola, monument, or tower of some sort, is deemed almost indispensable to the completion of the scene; so no face can be physiognomically in keeping without the elevated open-work belfry of the nose. Dash the nose from Phidias's marble Jove, and what a sorry remainder! Nevertheless, Leviathan is of so mighty a magnitude, all his proportions are so stately, that the same deficiency which in the sculptured Jove were hideous, in him is no blemish at all. Nay, it is an added grandeur. A nose to the whale would have been impertinent. As on your physiognomical voyage you sail round his vast head in your jolly-boat, your noble conceptions of him are never insulted by the reflection that he has a nose to be pulled. A pestilent conceit, which so often will insist upon obtruding even when beholding the mightiest royal beadle on his throne.

In some particulars, perhaps, the most imposing physiognomical view to be had of the Sperm Whale, is that of the full front of his head. This aspect is sublime.

In thought a fine human brow is like the east when troubled with the morning. in the repose of the pasture, the curled brow of the bull has a touch of the grand in it. Pushing heavy cannon up mountain defiles, the elephant's brow is majestic. Human or animal, the mystical brow is as that great golden seal affixed by the German emperors to their decrees. It signifies 'God: done this day by my hand'. But in most creatures, nay in man himself, very often the brow is but a mere strip of alpine land lying along the snow line. Few are the foreheads which like Shakespeare's or Melancthon's rise so high, and descend so low, that the eyes themselves seem clear, eternal, tideless mountain lakes; and all above them in the forehead's wrinkles, you seem to track the antlered thoughts descending there to drink, as the Highland hunters track the snow prints of the deer. But in the great Sperm Whale, this high and mighty god-like dignity inherent in the brow is so immensely amplified, that gazing on it, in that full front view, you feel the Deity and the dread powers


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more forcibly than in beholding any other object in living nature. For you see no one point precisely; not one distinct feature is revealed; no nose, eyes, ears, or mouth; no face; he has none, proper; nothing but that one broad firmament of a forehead, pleated with riddles; dumbly lowering with the doom of boats, and ships, and men. Nor, in profile, does this wondrous brow diminish; though that way viewed, its grandeur does not domineer upon you so. In profile, you plainly perceive that horizontal, semi-crescentic depression in the forehead's middle, which, in man, is Lavater's mark of genius.

But how? Genius in the Sperm Whale? Has the Sperm Whale ever written a book, spoken a speech? No, his great genius is declared in his doing nothing particular to prove it. It is moreover declared in his pyramidical silence. And this reminds me that had the great Sperm Whale been known to the young Orient World, he would have been deified by their child-magian thoughts. they deified the crocodile of the nile, because the crocodile is tongueless; and the Sperm Whale has no tongue, or as least it is so exceedingly small, as to be incapable of protrusion. If hereafter any highly cultured, poetical nation shall lure back to their birth-right, the merry May-day gods of old; and livingly enthrone them again in the now egotistical sky; in the now unhaunted hill; then be sure, exalted to Jove's high seat, the great Sperm Whale shall lord it.

Champollion deciphered the wrinkled granite hieroglyphics. But there is no Champollion to decipher the Egypt of every man's and every being's face. Physiognomy, like every other human science, is but a passing fable. If then, Sir William Jones, who read in thirty languages, could not read the simplest peasant's face, in its profounder and more subtle meanings, how may unlettered Ishmael hope to read the awful Chaldee of the Sperm Whale's brow? I but put that brow before you. Read if it you can.



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Chapter lxxx
THE NUT

If the Sperm Whale be physiognomically a Sphinx, to the phrenologist his brain seems that geometrical circle which it is impossible to square.

In the full-grown creature the skull will measure at least twenty feet in length. Unhinge the lower jaw, and the side view of this skull is as the side view of a moderately inclined plane resting throughout on a level base. But in life -- as we have elsewhere seen -- this inclined plane is angularly filled up, and almost squared by the enormous superincumbent mass of the junk and sperm. At the high end the skull forms a crater to bed that part of the mass; while under the long floor of this crater -- in another cavity seldom exceeding ten inches in length and as many in depth -- reposes the mere handful of this monster's brain. The brain is at least twenty feet from his apparent forehead in life; it is hidden away behind its vast outworks, like the innermost citadel within the amplified fortifications of Quebec. So like a choice casket is it secreted in him, that I have known some whalemen who peremptorily deny that the Sperm Whale has any other brain than that palpable semblance of one formed by the cubic-yards of his sperm magazine. Lying in strange folds, courses, and convolutions, to their apprehensions, it seems more in keeping with the idea of his general might to regard that mystic part of him as the seat of his intelligence.

It is plain, then, that phrenologically the head of this Leviathan, in the creature's living intact state, is an entire delusion. As for his true brain, you can then see no indications of it, nor feel any. The whale, like all things that are mighty, wears a false brow to the common world.

If you unload his skull of its spermy heaps and then take a rear view of its rear end, which is the high end, you will be


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struck by its resemblance to the human skull, beheld in the same situation, and from the same point of view. Indeed, place this reversed skull (scaled down to the human magnitude) among a plate of men's skulls, and you would involuntarily confound it with them; and remarking the depressions on one part of its summit, in phrenological phrase you would say -- This man had no self- esteem, and no veneration. And by those negations, considered along with the affirmative fact of his prodigious bulk and power, you can best form to yourself the truest, though not the most exhilarating conception of what the most exalted potency is.

But if from the comparative dimensions of the whale's proper brain, you deem it incapable of being adequately charted, then I have another idea for you. If you attentively regard almost any quadruped's spine, you will be struck with the resemblance of its vertebrae to a strung necklace of dwarfed skulls, all bearing rudimental resemblance to the skull proper. It is a German conceit, that the vertebrae are absolutely undeveloped skulls. But the curious external resemblance, I take it the Germans were not the first men to perceive. A foreign friend once pointed it out to me, in the skeleton of a foe he had slain, and with the vertebrae of which he was inlaying, in a sort of basso-relievo, the beaked prow of his canoe. Now, I consider that the phrenologists have omitted an important thing in not pushing their investigations from the cerebellum through the spinal canal. For I believe that much of a man's character will be found betokened in his backbone. I would rather feel your spine than your skull, whoever you are. A thin joist of a spine never yet upheld a full and noble soul. I rejoice in my spine, as in the firm audacious staff of that flag which I fling half out to the world.

Apply this spinal branch of phrenology to the Sperm Whale. His cranial cavity is continuous with the first neck-vertebra; and in that vertebra the bottom of the spinal canal will measure ten inches across, being eight in height, and of a triangular figure with the base downwards. As it passes through the remaining vertebrae the canal tapers in size, but for a considerable distance remains of large capacity. Now, of course, this


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canal is filled with much the same strangely fibrous substance -- the spinal cord -- as the brain; and directly communicates with the brain. And what is still more, for many feet after emerging from the brain's cavity, the spinal cord remains of an undecreasing girth, almost equal to that of the brain. Under all these circumstances, would it be unreasonable to survey and map out the whale's spine phrenologically? For, viewed in this light, the wonderful comparative smallness of his brain proper is more than compensated by the wonderful comparative magnitude of his spinal cord.

But leaving this hint to operate as it may with the phrenologists, I would merely assume the spinal theory for a moment, in reference to the Sperm Whale's hump. This august hump, if I mistake not, rises over one of the larger vertebrae, and is, therefore, in some sort, the outer convex mould of it. From its relative situation then, I should call this high hump the organ of firmness or indomitableness in the Sperm Whale. And that the great monster is indomitable, you will yet have reason to know.



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Chapter lxxxi
THE PEQUOD MEETS THE VIRGIN

The predestinated day arrived, and we duly met the ship Jungfrau, Derick De Deer, master, of Bremen.

At one time the greatest whaling people in the world, the Dutch and Germans are now among the least; but here and there at very wide intervals of latitude and longitude, you still occasionally meet with their flag in the Pacific.

For some reason, the Jungfrau seemed quite eager to pay her respects. While yet some distance from the Pequod, she rounded to, and dropping a boat, her captain was impelled towards us, impatiently standing in the bows instead of the stern.


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'What has he in his hand there?' cried Starbuck, pointing to something wavingly held by the German. 'Impossible! -- a lamp-feeder!'

'Not that,' said Stubb, 'no, no, it's a coffee-pot, Mr. Starbuck; he's coming off to make us our coffee, is the Yarman; don't you see that big tin can there alongside of him? -- that's his boiling water. Oh! he's all right, is the Yarman.'

'Go along with you,' cried Flask, 'it's a lamp- feeder and an oil-can. He's out of oil, and has come a- begging.'

However curious it may seem for an oil- ship to be borrowing oil on the whale-ground, and however much it may invertedly contradict the old proverb about carrying coals to Newcastle, yet sometimes such a thing really happens; and in the present case Captain Derick De Deer did indubitably conduct a lamp-feeder as Flask did declare.

As he mounted the deck, Ahab abruptly accosted him, without at all heeding what he had in his hand; but in his broken lingo, the German soon evinced his complete ignorance of the White Whale; immediately turning the conversation to his lamp-feeder and oil can, with some remarks touching his having to turn into his hammock at night in profound darkness -- his last drop of Bremen oil being gone, and not a single flying-fish yet captured to supply the deficiency; concluding by hinting that his ship was indeed what in the Fishery is technically called a clean one (that is, an empty one), well deserving the name of Jungfrau or the Virgin.

His necessities supplied, Derick departed; but he had not gained his ship's side, when whales were almost simultaneously raised from the mast-heads of both vessels; and so eager for the chase was Derick, that without pausing to put his oil-can and lamp-feeder aboard, he slewed round his boat and made after the Leviathan lamp-feeders.

Now, the game having risen to leeward, he and the other three German boats that soon followed him, had considerably the start of the Pequod's keels. There were eight whales, an average pod. Aware of their danger, they were going all abreast with great speed straight before the wind, rubbing their flanks as closely as so many spans of horses in harness. They left a


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great, wide wake, as though continually unrolling a great wide parchment upon the sea.

Full in this rapid wake, and many fathoms in the rear, swam a huge, humped old bull, which by his comparatively slow progress, as well as by the unusual yellowish incrustations overgrowing him, seemed afflicted with the jaundice, or some other infirmity. Whether this whale belonged to the pod in advance, seemed questionable; for it is not customary for such venerable Leviathans to be at all social. Nevertheless, he stuck to their wake, though indeed their back water must have retarded him, because the white-bone or swell at his broad muzzle was a dashed one, like the swell formed when two hostile currents meet. His spout was short, slow, and laborious; coming forth with a choking sort of gush, and spending itself in torn shreds, followed by strange subterranean commotions in him, which seemed to have egress at his other buried extremity, causing the waters behind him to upbubble.

'Who's got some paregoric?' said Stubb, 'he has the stomach-ache, I'm afraid. Lord, think of having half an acre of stomach-ache! Adverse winds are holding mad Christmas in him, boys. It's the first foul wind I ever knew to blow from astern; but look, did ever whale yaw so before? it must be, he's lost his tiller.'

As an overladen Indiaman bearing down the Hindostan coast with a deck load of frightened horses, careens, buries, rolls, and wallows on her way; so did this old whale heave his aged bulk, and now and then partly turning over on his cumbrous rib-ends, expose the cause of his devious wake in the unnatural stump of his starboard fin. Whether he had lost that fin in battle, or had been born without it, it were hard to say.

'Only wait a bit, old chap, and I'll give ye a sling for that wounded arm,' cried cruel Flask, pointing to the whale- line near him.

'Mind he don't sling thee with it,' cried Starbuck. 'Give way, or the German will have him.'

With one intent all the combined rival boats were pointed for this one fish, because not only was he the largest, and therefore the most valuable whale, but he was nearest to them, and the other whales were going with such great velocity, moreover,


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as almost to defy pursuit for the time. At this juncture, the Pequod's keel had shot by the three German boats last lowered; but from the great start he had had, Derick's boat still led the chase, though every moment neared by his foreign rivals. The only thing they feared, was, that from being already so nigh to his mark, he would be enabled to dart his iron before they could completely overtake and pass him. as for derick, he seemed quite confident that this would be the case, and occasionally with a deriding gesture shook his lamp-feeder at the other boats.

'The ungracious and ungrateful dog!' cried Starbuck; 'he mocks and dares me with the very poor-box I filled for him not five minutes ago!' -- then in his old intense whisper -- 'give way, greyhounds! Dog to it!'

'I tell ye what it is, men' -- cried Stubb to his crew -- 'It's against my religion to get mad; but I'd like to eat that villanous Yarman -- Pull -- won't ye? Are ye going to let that rascal beat ye? Do ye love brandy? A hogshead of brandy, then, to the best man. Come, why don't some of ye burst a blood-vessel? Who's that been dropping an anchor overboard -- we don't budge an inch -- we're becalmed. Halloo, here's grass growing in the boat's bottom -- and by the Lord, the mast there's budding. This won't do, boys. Look at that Yarman! The short and long of it is, men, will ye spit fire or not?'

'Oh! see the suds he makes!' cried Flask, dancing up and down -- 'What a hump -- Oh,do pile on the beef -- lays like a log! Oh! my lads, do spring -- slap-jacks and quohogs for supper, you know, my lads -- baked clams and muffins -- oh, do, do spring -- he's a hundred barreler -- don't lose him now -- don't oh, don't! -- see that Yarman -- Oh! won't ye pull for your duff, my lads -- such a sog! such a sogger! Don't ye love sperm? There goes three thousand dollars, men! -- a bank! -- a whole bank! The bank of England! -- Oh, do, do, do! -- What's that Yarman about now?'

At this moment Derick was in the act of pitching his lamp-feeder at the advancing boats, and also his oil-can; perhaps with the double view of retarding his rivals' way, and at the same time economically accelerating his own by the momentary impetus of the backward toss.

'The unmannerly Dutch dogger!' cried Stubb. 'Pull now,


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men, like fifty thousand line-of-battle-ship loads of red-haired devils. What d'ye say, Tashtego; are you the man to snap your spine in two-and-twenty pieces for the honor of old Gay-head? What d'ye say?'

'I say, pull like god-dam,' -- cried the Indian.

Fiercely, but evenly incited by the taunts of the German, the Pequod's three boats now began ranging almost abreast; and, so disposed, momentarily neared him. In that fine, loose, chivalrous attitude of the headsman when drawing near to his prey, the three mates stood up proudly, occasionally backing the after oarsman with an exhilarating cry of, 'There she slides, now! Hurrah for the white-ash breeze! Down with the Yarman! Sail over him!'

But so decided an original start had Derick had, that spite of all their gallantry, he would have proved the victor in this race, had not a righteous judgment descended upon him in a crab which caught the blade of his midship oarsman. While this clumsy lubber was striving to free his white-ash, and while, in consequence, Derick's boat was nigh to capsizing, and he thundering away at his men in a mighty rage; -- that was a good time for Starbuck, Stubb, and Flask. With a shout, they took a mortal start forwards, and slantingly ranged up on the German's quarter. An instant more, and all four boats were diagonically in the whale's immediate wake, while stretching from them, on both sides, was the foaming swell that he made.

It was a terrific, most pitiable, and maddening sight. The whale was now going head out, and sending his spout before him in a continual tormented jet; while his one poor fin beat his side in an agony of fright. Now to this hand, now to that, he yawed in his faltering flight, and still at every billow that he broke, he spasmodically sank in the sea, or sideways rolled towards the sky his one beating fin. So have I seen a bird with clipped wing, making affrighted broken circles in the air, vainly striving to escape the piratical hawks. But the bird has a voice, and with plaintive cries will make known her fear; but the fear of this vast dumb brute of the sea, was chained up and enchanted in him; he had no voice, save that choking respiration through his spiracle, and this made the sight of him unspeakably


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pitiable; while still, in his amazing bulk, portcullis jaw, and omnipotent tail, there was enough to appal the stoutest man who so pitied.

Seeing now that but a very few moments more would give the Pequod's boats the advantage, and rather than be thus foiled of his game, Derick chose to hazard what to him must have seemed a most unusually long dart, ere the last chance would for ever escape.

But no sooner did his harpooneer stand up for the stroke, than all three tigers -- Queequeg, Tashtego, Daggoo -- instinctively sprang to their feet, and standing in a diagonal row, simultaneously pointed their barbs; and darted over the head of the German harpooneer, their three Nantucket irons entered the whale. Blinding vapors of foam and white-fire! The three boats, in the first fury of the whale's headlong rush, bumped the German's aside with such force, that both Derick and his baffled harpooneer were spilled out, and sailed over by the three flying keels.

'Don't be afraid, my butter-boxes,' cried Stubb, casting a passing glance upon them as he shot by; 'ye'll be picked up presently -- all right -- I saw some sharks astern -- St. Bernard's dogs, you know -- relieve distressed travellers. Hurrah! this is the way to sail now. Every keel a sun-beam! Hurrah! -- Here we go like three tin kettles at the tail of a mad cougar! This puts me in mind of fastening to an elephant in a tilbury on a plain -- makes the wheel-spokes fly, boys, when you fasten to him that way; and there's danger of being pitched out too, when you strike a hill. Hurrah! this is the way a fellow feels when he's going to Davy Jones -- all a rush down an endless inclined plane! Hurrah! this whale carries the everlasting mail!

But the monster's run was a brief one. Giving a sudden gasp, he tumultuously sounded. With a grating rush, the three lines flew round the loggerheads with such a force as to gouge deep grooves in them; while so fearful were the harpooneers that this rapid sounding would soon exhaust the lines, that using all their dexterous might, they caught repeated smoking turns with the rope to hold on; till at last -- owing to the perpendicular strain from the lead-lined chocks of the boats, whence the three


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ropes went straight down into the blue -- the gunwales of the bows were almost even with the water, while the three sterns tilted high in the air. And the whale soon ceasing to sound, for some time they remained in that attitude, fearful of expending more line, though the position was a little ticklish. But though boats have been taken down and lost in this way, yet it is this 'holding on,' as it is called; this hooking up by the sharp barbs of his live flesh from the back; this it is that often torments the Leviathan into soon rising again to meet the sharp lance of his foes. Yet not to speak of the peril of the thing, it is to be doubted whether this course is always the best; for it is but reasonable to presume, that the longer the stricken whale stays under water, the more he is exhausted. Because, owing to the enormous surface of him -- in a full grown Sperm Whale something less than 2000 square feet -- the pressure of the water is immense. We all know what an astonishing atmospheric weight we ourselves stand up under; even here, above-ground, in the air; how vast, then, the burden of a whale, bearing on his back a column of two hundred fathoms of ocean! It must at least equal the weight of fifty atmospheres. One whaleman has estimated it at the weight of twenty line-of-battle ships, with all their guns, and stores, and men on board.

As the three boats lay there on that gently rolling sea, gazing down into its eternal blue noon; and as not a single groan or cry of any sort, nay, not so much as a ripple or a bubble came up from its depths; what landsman would have thought, that beneath all that silence and placidity, the utmost monster of the seas was writhing and wrenching in agony! Not eight inches of perpendicular rope were visible at the bows. Seems it credible that by three such thin threads the great Leviathan was suspended like the big weight to an eight day clock. Suspended? and to what? To three bits of board. Is this the creature of whom it was once so triumphantly said -- 'Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons? or his head with fish- spears? The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold, the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon: he esteemeth iron as straw; the arrow cannot make him flee; darts are counted as stubble; he laugheth at the shaking of a spear!' This the creature? this he? Oh! that unfulfilments


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should follow the prophets. For with the strength of a thousand thighs in his tail, Leviathan had run his head under the mountains of the sea, to hide him from the Pequod's fish-spears!

In that sloping afternoon sunlight, the shadows that the three boats sent down beneath the surface, must have been long enough and broad enough to shade half Xerxes' army. Who can tell how appalling to the wounded whale must have been such huge phantoms flitting over his head!

'Stand by, men; he stirs,' cried Starbuck, as the three lines suddenly vibrated in the water, distinctly conducting upwards to them, as by magnetic wires, the life and death throbs of the whale, so that every oarsman felt them in his seat. The next moment, relieved in a great part from the downward strain at the bows, the boats gave a sudden bounce upwards, as a small ice-field will, when a dense herd of white bears are scared from it into the sea.

'Haul in! Haul in!' cried Starbuck again; 'he's rising.'

The lines, of which, hardly an instant before, not one hand's breadth could have been gained, were now in long quick coils flung back all dripping into the boats, and soon the whale broke water within two ship's lengths of the hunters.

His motions plainly denoted his extreme exhaustion. In most land animals there are certain valves or flood-gates in many of their veins, whereby when wounded, the blood is in some degree at least instantly shut off in certain directions. Not so with the whale; one of whose peculiarities it is, to have an entire nonvalvular structure of the blood-vessels, so that when pierced even by so small a point as a harpoon, a deadly drain is at once begun upon his whole arterial system; and when this is heightened by the extraordinary pressure of water at a great distance below the surface, his life may be said to pour from him in incessant streams. Yet so vast is the quantity of blood in him, and so distant and numerous its interior fountains, that he will keep thus bleeding and bleeding for a considerable period; even as in a drought a river will flow, whose source is in the well-springs of far-off and undiscernible hills. Even now, when the boats pulled upon this whale, and perilously drew over his swaying


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flukes, and the lances were darted into him, they were followed by steady jets from the new made wound, which kept continually playing, while the natural spout-hole in his head was only at intervals, however rapid, sending its affrighted moisture into the air. From this last vent no blood yet came, because no vital part of him had thus far been struck. His life, as they significantly call it, was untouched.

As the boats now more closely surrounded him, the whole upper part of his form, with much of it that is ordinarily submerged, was plainly revealed. His eyes, or rather the places where his eyes had been, were beheld. As strange misgrown masses gather in the knot-holes of the noblest oaks when prostrate, so from the points which the whale's eyes had once occupied, now protruded blind bulbs, horribly pitiable to see. but pity there was none. For all his old age, and his one arm, and his blind eyes, he must die the death and be murdered, in order to light the gay bridals and other merry-makings of men, and also to illuminate the solemn churches that preach unconditional inoffensiveness by all to all. Still rolling in his blood, at last he partially disclosed a strangely discolored bunch or protuberance, the size of a bushel, low down on the flank.

'A nice spot,' cried Flask; 'just let me prick him there once.'

'Avast!' cried Starbuck, 'there's no need of that!'

But humane Starbuck was too late. At the instant of the dart an ulcerous jet shot from this cruel wound, and goaded by it into more than sufferable anguish, the whale now spouting thick blood, with swift fury blindly darted at the craft, bespattering them and their glorying crews all over with showers of gore, capsizing Flask's boat and marring the bows. It was his death stroke. For, by this time, so spent was he by loss of blood, that he helplessly rolled away from the wreck he had made; lay panting on his side, impotently flapped with his stumped fin, then over and over slowly revolved like a waning world; turned up the white secrets of his belly; lay like a log, and died. It was most piteous, that last expiring spout. As when by unseen hands the water is gradually drawn off from some mighty fountain, and with half-stifled melancholy gurglings the spray-column lowers and lowers to the ground -- so the last long dying spout of the whale.


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Soon, while the crews were awaiting the arrival of the ship, the body showed symptoms of sinking with all its treasures unrifled. Immediately, by Starbuck's orders, lines were secured to it at different points, so that ere long every boat was a buoy; the sunken whale being suspended a few inches beneath them by the cords. By very heedful management, when the ship drew nigh, the whale was transferred to her side, and was strongly secured there by the stiffest fluke-chains, for it was plain that unless artificially upheld, the body would at once sink to the bottom.

It so chanced that almost upon first cutting into him with the spade, the entire length of a corroded harpoon was found imbedded in his flesh, on the lower part of the bunch before described. But as the stumps of harpoons are frequently found in the dead bodies of captured whales, with the flesh perfectly healed around them, and no prominence of any kind to denote their place; therefore, there must needs have been some other unknown reason in the present case fully to account for the ulceration alluded to. But still more curious was the fact of a lance-head of stone being found in him, not far from the buried iron, the flesh perfectly firm about it. Who had darted that stone lance? And when? It might have been darted by some Nor' West Indian long before America was discovered.

What other marvels might have been rummaged out of this monstrous cabinet there is no telling. But a sudden stop was put to further discoveries, by the ship's being unprecedentedly dragged over sideways to the sea, owing to the body's immensely increasing tendency to sink. However, Starbuck, who had the ordering of affairs, hung on to it to the last; hung on to it so resolutely, indeed, that when at length the ship would have been capsized, if still persisting in locking arms with the body; then, when the command was given to break clear from it, such was the immovable strain upon the timber-heads to which the fluke-chains and cables were fastened, that it was impossible to cast them off. Meantime everything in the Pequod was aslant. To cross to the other side of the deck was like walking up the steep gabled roof of a house. The ship groaned and gasped. Many of the ivory inlayings of her bulwarks and cabins were started from their places, by the unnatural dislocation. In


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vain handspikes and crows were brought to bear upon the immovable fluke-chains, to pry them adrift from the timber-heads; and so low had the whale now settled that the submerged ends could not be at all approached, while every moment whole tons of ponderosity seemed added to the sinking bulk, and the ship seemed on the point of going over.

'Hold on, hold on, won't ye?' cried Stubb to the body, 'don't be in such a devil of a hurry to sink! By thunder, men, we must do something or go for it. No use prying there; avast, I say with your handspikes, and run one of ye for a prayer book and a pen-knife, and cut the big chains.'

'Knife? Aye, aye,' cried Queequeg, and seizing the carpenter's heavy hatchet, he leaned out of a porthole, and steel to iron, began slashing at the largest fluke- chains. But a few strokes, full of sparks, were given, when the exceeding strain effected the rest. With a terrific snap, every fastening went adrift; the ship righted, the carcase sank.

Now, this occasional inevitable sinking of the recently killed Sperm Whale is a very curious thing; nor has any fisherman yet adequately accounted for it. Usually the dead Sperm Whale floats with great buoyancy, with its side or belly considerably elevated above the surface. If the only whales that thus sank were old, meagre, and broken-hearted creatures, their pads of lard diminished and all their bones heavy and rheumatic; then you might with some reason assert that this sinking is caused by an uncommon specific gravity in the fish so sinking, consequent upon this absence of buoyant matter in him. But it is not so. For young whales, in the highest health, and swelling with noble aspirations, prematurely cut off in the warm flush and May of life, with all their panting lard about them; even these brawny, buoyant heroes do sometimes sink.

Be it said, however, that the Sperm Whale is far less liable to this accident than any other species. Where one of that sort go down, twenty Right Whales do. This difference in the species is no doubt imputable in no small degree to the greater quantity of bone in the Right Whale; his Venetian blinds alone sometimes weighing more than a ton; from this incumbrance the Sperm Whale is wholly free. But there are instances where,


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after the lapse of many hours or several days, the sunken whale again rises, more buoyant than in life. But the reason of this is obvious. Gases are generated in him; he swells to a prodigious magnitude; becomes a sort of animal balloon. A line-of-battle ship could hardly keep him under then. In the Shore Whaling, on soundings, among the Bays of New Zealand, when a Right Whale gives token of sinking, they fasten buoys to him, with plenty of rope; so that when the body has gone down, they know where to look for it when it shall have ascended again.

It was not long after the sinking of the body that a cry was heard from the Pequod's mast-heads, announcing that the Jungfrau was again lowering her boats; though the only spout in sight was that of a Fin-Back, belonging to the species of uncapturable whales, because of its incredible power of swimming. Nevertheless, the Fin-Back's spout is so similar to the Sperm Whale's, that by unskilful fishermen it is often mistaken for it. And consequently Derick and all his host were now in valiant chase of this unnearable brute. The Virgin crowding all sail, made after her four young keels, and thus they all disappeared far to leeward, still in bold, hopeful chase.

Oh! many are the Fin-Backs, and many are the Dericks, my friend.



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Chapter lxxxii
THE HONOR AND GLORY OF WHALING

There are some enterprises in which a careful disorderliness is the true method.

The more I dive into this matter of whaling, and push my researches up to the very spring-head of it, so much the more am I impressed with its great honorableness and antiquity; and especially when I find so many great demi-gods and heroes, prophets of all sorts, who one way or other have shed distinction upon it, I am transported with the reflection that I myself


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belong, though but subordinately, to so emblazoned a fraternity.

The gallant Perseus, a son of Jupiter, was the first whaleman; and to the eternal honor of our calling be it said, that the first whale attacked by our brotherhood was not killed with any sordid intent. Those were the knightly days of our profession, when we only bore arms to succor the distressed, and not to fill men's lamp-feeders. Every one knows the fine story of Perseus and Andromeda; how the lovely Andromeda, the daughter of a king, was tied to a rock on the sea-coast, and as Leviathan was in the very act of carrying her off, Perseus, the prince of whalemen, intrepidly advancing, harpooned the monster, and delivered and married the maid. It was an admirable artistic exploit, rarely achieved by the best harpooneers of the present day; inasmuch as this Leviathan was slain at the very first dart. And let no man doubt this Arkite story; for in the ancient Joppa, now Jaffa, on the Syrian coast, in one of the Pagan temples, there stood for many ages the vast skeleton of a whale, which the city's legends and all the inhabitants asserted to be the identical bones of the monster that Perseus slew. When the Romans took Joppa, the same skeleton was carried to Italy in triumph. What seems most singular and suggestively important in this story, is this: it was from Joppa that Jonah set sail.

Akin to the adventure of Perseus and Andromeda -- indeed, by some supposed to be indirectly derived from it -- is that famous story of St. George and the Dragon; which dragon I maintain to have been a whale; for in many old chronicles whales and dragons are strangely jumbled together, and often stand for each other. 'Thou art as a lion of the waters, and as a dragon of the sea,' saith Ezekiel; hereby, plainly meaning a whale; in truth, some versions of the Bible use that word itself. Besides, it would much subtract from the glory of the exploit had St. George but encountered a crawling reptile of the land, instead of doing battle with the great monster of the deep. Any man may kill a snake, but only a Perseus, a St. George, a Coffin, have the heart in them to march boldly up to a whale.

Let not the modern paintings of this scene mislead us; for though the creature encountered by that valiant whaleman of old is vaguely represented of a griffin- like shape, and though


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the battle is depicted on land and the saint on horseback, yet considering the great ignorance of those times, when the true form of the whale was unknown to artists; and considering that as in Perseus' case, St. George's whale might have crawled up out of the sea on the beach; and considering that the animal ridden by St. George might have been only a large seal, or sea-horse; bearing all this in mind, it will not appear altogether incompatible with the sacred legend and the ancientest draughts of the scene, to hold this so-called dragon no other than the great Leviathan himself. In fact, placed before the strict and piercing truth, this whole story will fare like that fish, flesh, and fowl idol of the Philistines, Dagon by name; who being planted before the ark of Israel, his horse's head and both the palms of his hands fell off from him, and only the stump or fishy part of him remained. Thus, then, one of our own noble stamp, even a whaleman, is the tutelary guardian of England; and by good rights, we harpooneers of Nantucket should be enrolled in the most noble order of St. George. And therefore, let not the knights of that honorable company (none of whom, I venture to say, have ever had to do with a whale like their great patron), let them never eye a Nantucketer with disdain, since even in our woollen frocks and tarred trowsers we are much better entitled to st. george's decoration than they.

Whether to admit Hercules among us or not, concerning this I long remained dubious: for though according to the Greek mythologies, that antique Crockett and Kit Carson -- that brawny doer of rejoicing good deeds, was swallowed down and thrown up by a whale; still, whether that strictly makes a whaleman of him, that might be mooted. It nowhere appears that he ever actually harpooned his fish, unless, indeed, from the inside. Nevertheless, he may be deemed a sort of involuntary whaleman; at any rate the whale caught him, if he did not the whale. I claim him for one of our clan.

But, by the best contradictory authorities, this Grecian story of Hercules and the whale is considered to be derived from the still more ancient Hebrew story of Jonah and the whale; and vice versa; certainly they are very similar. If I claim the demigod then, why not the prophet?


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Nor do heroes, saints, demigods, and prophets alone comprise the whole roll of our order. Our grand master is still to be named; for like royal kings of old times, we find the headwaters of our fraternity in nothing short of the great gods themselves. That wondrous oriental story is now to be rehearsed from the Shaster, which gives us the dread Vishnoo, one of the three persons in the godhead of the Hindoos; gives us this divine Vishnoo himself for our Lord; -- Vishnoo, who, by the first of his ten earthly incarnations, has for ever set apart and sanctified the whale. When Brahma, or the God of Gods, saith the Shaster, resolved to recreate the world after one of its periodical dissolutions, he gave birth to Vishnoo, to preside over the work; but the Vedas, or mystical books, whose perusal would seem to have been indispensable to Vishnoo before beginning the creation, and which therefore must have contained something in the shape of practical hints to young architects, these Vedas were lying at the bottom of the waters; so Vishnoo became incarnate in a whale, and sounding down in him to the uttermost depths, rescued the sacred volumes. Was not this Vishnoo a whaleman, then? even as a man who rides a horse is called a horseman?

Perseus, St. George, Hercules, Jonah, and Vishnoo! there's a member-roll for you! What club but the whaleman's can head off like that?



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Chapter lxxxiii
JONAH HISTORICALLY REGARDED

Reference was made to the historical story of Jonah and the whale in the preceding chapter. Now some Nantucketers rather distrust this historical story of Jonah and the whale. But then there were some sceptical Greeks and Romans, who, standing out from the orthodox pagans of their times, equally doubted the story of Hercules and the whale, and Arion and the dolphin;


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and yet their doubting those traditions did not make those traditions one whit the less facts, for all that.

One old Sag-Harbor whaleman's chief reason for questioning the Hebrew story was this: -- He had one of those quaint old- fashioned Bibles, embellished with curious, unscientific plates; one of which represented Jonah's whale with two spouts in his head -- a peculiarity only true with respect to a species of the Leviathan (the Right Whale, and the varieties of that order), concerning which the fishermen have this saying, 'A penny roll would choke him;' his swallow is so very small. But, to this, Bishop Jebb's anticipative answer is ready. It is not necessary, hints the Bishop, that we consider Jonah as tombed in the whale's belly, but as temporarily lodged in some part of his mouth. And this seems reasonable enough in the good Bishop. For truly, the Right Whale's mouth would accommodate a couple of whist tables, and comfortably seat all the players. Possibly, too, Jonah might have ensconced himself in a hollow tooth; but, on second thoughts, the Right Whale is toothless.

Another reason which Sag-Harbor (he went by that name) urged for his want of faith in this matter of the prophet, was something obscurely in reference to his incarcerated body and the whale's gastric juices. But this objection likewise falls to the ground, because a German exegetist supposes that Jonah must have taken refuge in the floating body of a dead whale -- even as the French soldiers in the Russian campaign turned their dead horses into tents, and crawled into them. Besides, it has been divined by other continental commentators, that when Jonah was thrown overboard from the Joppa ship, he straightway effected his escape to another vessel near by, some vessel with a whale for a figure-head; and, I would add, possibly called 'The Whale', as some craft are nowadays christened the 'Shark,' the 'Gull,' the 'Eagle'. Nor have there been wanting learned exegetists who have opined that the whale mentioned in the book of Jonah merely meant a life- preserver -- an inflated bag of wind -- which the endangered prophet swam to, and so was saved from a watery doom. Poor Sag- Harbor, therefore, seems worsted all round. But he had still another reason for his want of faith. It was this, if I remember right: Jonah was


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swallowed by the whale in the Mediterranean Sea, and after three days he was vomited up somewhere within three days' journey of Nineveh, a city on the Tigris, very much more than three days' journey across from the nearest point of the Mediterranean coast. How is that?

But was there no other way for the whale to land the prophet within that short distance of Nineveh? Yes. He might have carried him round by the way of the Cape of Good Hope. But not to speak of the passage through the whole length of the Mediterranean, and another passage up the Persian Gulf and Red Sea, such a supposition would involve the complete circumnavigation of all Africa in three days, not to speak of the Tigris waters, near the site of Nineveh, being too shallow for any whale to swim in. Besides, this idea of Jonah's weathering the Cape of Good Hope at so early a day would wrest the honor of the discovery of that great headland from Bartholomew Diaz, its reputed discoverer, and so make modern history a liar.

But all these foolish arguments of old Sag-Harbor only evinced his foolish pride of reason -- a thing still more reprehensible in him, seeing that he had but little learning except what he had picked up from the sun and the sea. I say it only shows his foolish, impious pride, and abominable, devilish rebellion against the reverend clergy. For by a Portuguese Catholic priest, this very idea of Jonah's going to Nineveh via the Cape of Good Hope was advanced as a signal magnification of the general miracle. And so it was. Besides, to this day, the highly enlightened Turks devoutly believe in the historical story of Jonah. And some three centuries ago, an English traveller in old Harris's Voyages, speaks of a Turkish Mosque built in honor of Jonah, in which mosque was a miraculous lamp that burnt without any oil.



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Chapter lxxxiv
PITCHPOLING

To make them run easily and swiftly, the axles of carriages are anointed; and for much the same purpose, some whalers perform an analogous operation upon their boat; they grease the bottom. Nor is it to be doubted that as such a procedure can do no harm, it may possibly be of no contemptible advantage; considering that oil and water are hostile; that oil is a sliding thing, and that the object in view is to make the boat slide bravely. Queequeg believed strongly in anointing his boat, and one morning not long after the German ship Jungfrau disappeared, took more than customary pains in that occupation; crawling under its bottom, where it hung over the side, and rubbing in the unctuousness as though diligently seeking to insure a crop of hair from the craft's bald keel. He seemed to be working in obedience to some particular presentiment. Nor did it remain unwarranted by the event.

Towards noon whales were raised; but so soon as the ship sailed down to them, they turned and fled with swift precipitancy; a disordered flight, as of Cleopatra's barges from Actium.

Nevertheless, the boats pursued, and Stubb's was foremost. By great exertion, Tashtego at last succeeded in planting one iron; but the stricken whale, without at all sounding, still continued his horizontal flight, with added fleetness. Such unintermitted strainings upon the planted iron must sooner or later inevitably extract it. It became imperative to lance the flying whale, or be content to lose him. But to haul the boat up to his flank was impossible, he swam so fast and furious. What then remained?

Of all the wondrous devices and dexterities, the sleights of hand and countless subtleties, to which the veteran whaleman is so often forced, none exceed that fine manoeuvre with the lance called pitchpoling. Small sword, or broad sword, in all its


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exercises boasts nothing like it. It is only indispensable with an inveterate running whale; its grand fact and feature is the wonderful distance to which the long lance is accurately darted from a violently rocking, jerking boat, under extreme headway. Steel and wood included, the entire spear is some ten or twelve feet in length; the staff is much slighter than that of the harpoon, and also of a lighter material -- pine. It is furnished with a small rope called a warp, of considerable length, by which it can be hauled back to the hand after darting.

But before going further, it is important to mention here, that though the harpoon may be pitchpoled in the same way with the lance, yet it is seldom done; and when done, is still less frequently successful, on account of the greater weight and inferior length of the harpoon as compared with the lance, which in effect become serious drawbacks. As a general thing, therefore, you must first get fast to a whale, before any pitchpoling comes into play.

Look now at Stubb; a man who from his humorous, deliberate coolness and equanimity in the direst emergencies, was specially qualified to excel in pitchpoling. Look at him; he stands upright in the tossed bow of the flying boat; wrapt in fleecy foam, the towing whale is forty feet ahead. Handling the long lance lightly, glancing twice or thrice along its length to see if it be exactly straight, Stubb whistlingly gathers up the coil of the warp in one hand, so as to secure its free end in his grasp, leaving the rest unobstructed. Then holding the lance full before his waistband's middle, he levels it at the whale; when, covering him with it, he steadily depresses the butt-end in his hand, thereby elevating the point till the weapon stands fairly balanced upon his palm, fifteen feet in the air. He minds you somewhat of a juggler, balancing a long staff on his chin. Next moment with a rapid, nameless impulse, in a superb lofty arch the bright steel spans the foaming distance, and quivers in the life spot of the whale. Instead of sparkling water, he now spouts red blood.

'That drove the spigot out of him!' cries Stubb. ''Tis July's immortal Fourth; all fountains must run wine to-day! Would now, it were old Orleans whiskey, or old Ohio, or unspeakable


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old Monongahela! Then, Tashtego, lad, I'd have ye hold a canakin to the jet, and we'd drink round it! Yea, verily, hearts alive, we'd brew choice punch in the spread of his spout-hole there, and from that live punch-bowl quaff the living stuff!'

Again and again to such gamesome talk, the dexterous dart is repeated, the spear returning to its master like a greyhound held in skilful leash. The agonized whale goes into his flurry; the tow-line is slackened, and the pitchpoler dropping astern, folds his hands, and mutely watches the monster die.



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Chapter lxxxv
THE FOUNTAIN

That for six thousand years -- and no one knows how many millions of ages before -- the great whales should have been spouting all over the sea, and sprinkling and mistifying the gardens of the deep, as with so many sprinkling or mistifying pots; and that for some centuries back, thousands of hunters should have been close by the fountain of the whale, watching these sprinklings and spoutings -- that all this should be, and yet, that down to this blessed minute (fifteen and a quarter minutes past one o'clock P. M. of this sixteenth day of December, A. D. 1851), it should still remain a problem, whether these spoutings are, after all, really water, or nothing but vapor -- this is surely a noteworthy thing.

Let us, then, look at this matter, along with some interesting items contingent. Every one knows that by the peculiar cunning of their gills, the finny tribes in general breathe the air which at all times is combined with the element in which they swim, hence, a herring or a cod might live a century, and never once raise its head above the surface. But owing to his marked internal structure which gives him regular lungs, like a human being's, the whale can only live by inhaling the disengaged air in the open atmosphere. Wherefore the necessity


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for his periodical visits to the upper world. But he cannot in any degree breathe through his mouth, for, in his ordinary attitude, the Sperm Whale's mouth is buried at least eight feet beneath the surface; and what is still more, his windpipe has no connexion with his mouth. No, he breathes through his spiracle alone; and this is on the top of his head.

If I say, that in any creature breathing is only a function indispensable to vitality, inasmuch as it withdraws from the air a certain element, which being subsequently brought into contact with the blood imparts to the blood its vivifying principle, I do not think I shall err; though I may possibly use some superfluous scientific words. Assume it, and it follows that if all the blood in a man could be aerated with one breath, he might then seal up his nostrils and not fetch another for a considerable time. That is to say, he would then live without breathing. Anomalous as it may seem, this is precisely the case with the whale, who systematically lives, by intervals, his full hour and more (when at the bottom) without drawing a single breath, or so much as in any way inhaling a particle of air; for, remember, he has no gills. How is this? Between his ribs and on each side of his spine he is supplied with a remarkable involved Cretan labyrinth of vermicelli-like vessels, which vessels, when he quits the surface, are completely distended with oxygenated blood. So that for an hour or more, a thousand fathoms in the sea, he carries a surplus stock of vitality in him, just as the camel crossing the waterless desert carries a surplus supply of drink for future use in its four supplementary stomachs. The anatomical fact of this labyrinth is indisputable; and that the supposition founded upon it is reasonable and true, seems the more cogent to me, when I consider the otherwise inexplicable obstinacy of that Leviathan in having his spoutings out, as the fishermen phrase it. This is what I mean. If unmolested, upon rising to the surface, the Sperm Whale will continue there for a period of time exactly uniform with all his other unmolested risings. Say he stays eleven minutes, and jets seventy times, that is, respires seventy breaths; then whenever he rises again, he will be sure to have his seventy breaths over again, to a minute. Now, if after he fetches a few


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breaths you alarm him, so that he sounds, he will be always dodging up again to make good his regular allowance of air. And not till those seventy breaths are told, will he finally go down to stay out his full term below. Remark, however, that in different individuals these rates are different; but in any one they are alike. Now, why should the whale thus insist upon having his spoutings out, unless it be to replenish his reservoir of air, ere descending for good? How obvious is it, too, that this necessity for the whale's rising exposes him to all the fatal hazards of the chase. For not by hook or by net could this vast Leviathan be caught, when sailing a thousand fathoms beneath the sunlight. Not so much thy skill, then, O hunter, as the great necessities that strike the victory to thee!

In man, breathing is incessantly going on -- one breath only serving for two or three pulsations; so that whatever other business he has to attend to, waking or sleeping, breathe he must, or die he will. But the Sperm Whale only breathes about one seventh or Sunday of his time.

It has been said that the whale only breathes through his spout-hole; if it could truthfully be added that his spouts are mixed with water, then I opine we should be furnished with the reason why his sense of smell seems obliterated in him; for the only thing about him that at all answers to his nose is that identical spout-hole; and being so clogged with two elements, it could not be expected to have the power of smelling. But owing to the mystery of the spout -- whether it be water or whether it be vapor -- no absolute certainty can as yet be arrived at on this head. Sure it is, nevertheless, that the Sperm Whale has no proper olfactories. But what does he want of them? No roses, no violets, no Cologne-water in the sea.

Furthermore, as his windpipe solely opens into the tube of his spouting canal, and as that long canal -- like the grand Erie Canal -- is furnished with a sort of locks (that open and shut) for the downward retention of air or the upward exclusion of water, therefore the whale has no voice; unless you insult him by saying, that when he so strangely rumbles, he talks through his nose. But then again, what has the whale to say? Seldom have I known any profound being that had anything to say to this


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world, unless forced to stammer out something by way of getting a living. Oh! happy that the world is such an excellent listener!

Now, the spouting canal of the Sperm Whale, chiefly intended as it is for the conveyance of air, and for several feet laid along, horizontally, just beneath the upper surface of his head, and a little to one side; this curious canal is very much like a gas-pipe laid down in a city on one side of a street. But the question returns whether this gas-pipe is also a water-pipe; in other words, whether the spout of the Sperm Whale is the mere vapor of the exhaled breath, or whether that exhaled breath is mixed with water taken in at the mouth, and discharged through the spiracle. It is certain that the mouth indirectly communicates with the spouting canal; but it cannot be proved that this is for the purpose of discharging water through the spiracle. Because the greatest necessity for so doing would seem to be, when in feeding he accidentally takes in water. But the Sperm Whale's food is far beneath the surface, and there he cannot spout even if he would. Besides, if you regard him very closely, and time him with your watch, you will find that when unmolested, there is an undeviating rhyme between the periods of his jets and the ordinary periods of respiration.

But why pester one with all this reasoning on the subject? Speak out! You have seen him spout; then declare what the spout is; can you not tell water from air? My dear sir, in this world it is not so easy to settle these plain things. I have ever found your plain things the knottiest of all. And as for this whale spout, you might almost stand in it, and yet be undecided as to what it is precisely.

The central body of it is hidden in the snowy sparkling mist enveloping it; and how can you certainly tell whether any water falls from it, when, always, when you are close enough to a whale to get a close view of his spout, he is in a prodigious commotion, the water cascading all around him. And if at such times you should think that you really perceived drops of moisture in the spout, how do you know that they are not merely condensed from its vapor; or how do you know that they are not those identical drops superficially lodged in the spout-hole fissure, which is countersunk into the summit of the whale's head? For even when tranquilly swimming through the mid-day


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sea in a calm, with his elevated hump sun-dried as a dromedary's in the desert; even then, the whale always carries a small basin of water on his head, as under a blazing sun you will sometimes see a cavity in a rock filled up with rain.

Nor is it at all prudent for the hunter to be over curious touching the precise nature of the whale spout. It will not do for him to be peering into it, and putting his face in it. You cannot go with your pitcher to this fountain and fill it, and bring it away. For even when coming into slight contact with the outer, vapory shreds of the jet, which will often happen, your skin will feverishly smart, from the acridness of the thing so touching it. And I know one, who coming into still closer contact with the spout, whether with some scientific object in view, or otherwise, I cannot say, the skin peeled off from his cheek and arm. Wherefore, among whalemen, the spout is deemed poisonous; they try to evade it. Another thing; I have heard it said, and I do not much doubt it, that if the jet is fairly spouted into your eyes, it will blind you. The wisest thing the investigator can do then, it seems to me, is to let this deadly spout alone.

Still, we can hypothesize, even if we cannot prove and establish. My hypothesis is this: that the spout is nothing but mist. And besides other reasons, to this conclusion I am impelled, by considerations touching the great inherent dignity and sublimity of the Sperm Whale; I account him no common, shallow being, inasmuch as it is an undisputed fact that he is never found on soundings, or near shores; all other whales sometimes are. He is both ponderous and profound. And I am convinced that from the heads of all ponderous profound beings, such as Plato, Pyrrho, the Devil, Jupiter, Dante, and so on, there always goes up a certain semi-visible steam, while in the act of thinking deep thoughts. While composing a little treatise on Eternity, I had the curiosity to place a mirror before me; and ere long saw reflected there, a curious involved worming and undulation in the atmosphere over my head. The invariable moisture of my hair, while plunged in deep thought, after six cups of hot tea in my thin shingled attic, of an August noon; this seems an additional argument for the above supposition.

And how nobly it raises our conceit of the mighty, misty


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monster, to behold him solemnly sailing through a calm tropical sea; his vast, mild head overhung by a canopy of vapor, engendered by his incommunicable contemplations, and that vapor -- as you will sometimes see it -- glorified by a rainbow, as if Heaven itself had put its seal upon his thoughts. For, d'ye see, rainbows do not visit the clear air; they only irradiate vapor. And so, through all the thick mists of the dim doubts in my mind, divine intuitions now and then shoot, enkindling my fog with a heavenly ray. And for this I thank God; for all have doubts; many deny; but doubts or denials, few along with them, have intuitions. Doubts of all things earthly, and intuitions of some things heavenly; this combination makes neither believer nor infidel, but makes a man who regards them both with equal eye.




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Chapter lxxxvi
THE TAIL

Other poets have warbled the praises of the soft eye of the antelope, and the lovely plumage of the bird that never alights; less celestial, I celebrate a tail.

Reckoning the largest sized Sperm Whale's tail to begin at that point of the trunk where it tapers to about the girth of a man, it comprises upon its upper surface alone, an area of at least fifty square feet. The compact round body of its root expands into two broad, firm, flat palms or flukes, gradually shoaling away to less than an inch in thickness. At the crotch or junction, these flukes slightly overlap, then sideways recede from each other like wings, leaving a wide vacancy between. In no living thing are the lines of beauty more exquisitely defined than in the crescentic borders of these flukes. At its utmost expansion in the full grown whale, the tail will considerably exceed twenty feet across.

The entire member seems a dense webbed bed of welded


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sinews; but cut into it, and you find that three distinct strata compose it: -- upper, middle, and lower. The fibres in the upper and lower layers, are long and horizontal; those of the middle one, very short, and running crosswise between the outside layers. This triune structure, as much as anything else, imparts power to the tail. To the student of old Roman walls, the middle layer will furnish a curious parallel to the thin course of tiles always alternating with the stone in those wonderful relics of the antique, and which undoubtedly contribute so much to the great strength of the masonry.

But as if this vast local power in the tendinous tail were not enough, the whole bulk of the Leviathan is knit over with a warp and woof of muscular fibres and filaments, which passing on either side the loins and running down into the flukes, insensibly blend with them, and largely contribute to their might; so that in the tail the confluent measureless force of the whole whale seems concentrated to a point. Could annihilation occur to matter, this were the thing to do it.

Nor does this -- its amazing strength, at all tend to cripple the graceful flexion of its motions; where infantileness of ease undulates through a Titanism of power. On the contrary, those motions derive their most appalling beauty from it. Real strength never impairs beauty or harmony, but it often bestows it; and in everything imposingly beautiful, strength has much to do with the magic. Take away the tied tendons that all over seem bursting from the marble in the carved Hercules, and its charm would be gone. As devout Eckerman lifted the linen sheet from the naked corpse of Goethe, he was overwhelmed with the massive chest of the man, that seemed as a Roman triumphal arch. When Angelo paints even God the Father in human form, mark what robustness is there. And whatever they may reveal of the divine love in the Son, the soft, curled, hermaphroditical Italian pictures, in which his idea has been most successfully embodied; these pictures, so destitute as they are of all brawniness, hint nothing of any power, but the mere negative, feminine one of submission and endurance, which on all hands it is conceded, form the peculiar practical virtues of his teachings.

Such is the subtle elasticity of the organ I treat of, that


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whether wielded in sport, or in earnest, or in anger, whatever be the mood it be in, its flexions are invariably marked by exceeding grace. Therein no fairy's arm can transcend it.

Five great motions are peculiar to it. First, when used as a fin for progression; Second, when used as a mace in battle; Third, in sweeping; Fourth, in lobtailing; Fifth, in peaking flukes.

First: Being horizontal in its position, the Leviathan's tail acts in a different manner from the tails of all other sea creatures. It never wriggles. In man or fish, wriggling is a sign of inferiority. To the whale, his tail is the sole means of propulsion. Scroll-wise coiled forwards beneath the body, and then rapidly sprung backwards, it is this which gives that singular darting, leaping motion to the monster when furiously swimming. His side-fins only serve to steer by.

Second: It is a little significant, that while one sperm whale only fights another Sperm Whale with his head and jaw, nevertheless, in his conflicts with man, he chiefly and contemptuously uses his tail. In striking at a boat, he swiftly curves away his flukes from it, and the blow is only inflicted by the recoil. If it be made in the unobstructed air, especially if it descend to its mark, the stroke is then simply irresistible. No ribs of man or boat can withstand it. Your only salvation lies in eluding it; but if it comes sideways through the opposing water, then partly owing to the light buoyancy of the whaleboat, and the elasticity of its materials, a cracked rib or a dashed plank or two, a sort of stitch in the side, is generally the most serious result. These submerged side blows are so often received in the fishery, that they are accounted mere child's play. Some one strips off a frock, and the hole is stopped.

Third: I cannot demonstrate it, but it seems to me, that in the whale the sense of touch is concentrated in the tail; for in this respect there is a delicacy in it only equalled by the daintiness of the elephant's trunk. This delicacy is chiefly evinced in the action of sweeping, when in maidenly gentleness the whale with a certain soft slowness moves his immense flukes from side to side upon the surface of the sea; and if he feel but a sailor's whisker, woe to that sailor, whiskers and all.


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What tenderness there is in that preliminary touch! Had this tail any prehensile power, I should straightway bethink me of Darmonodes' elephant that so frequented the flower-market, and with low salutations presented nosegays to damsels, and then caressed their zones. On more accounts than one, a pity it is that the whale does not possess this prehensile virtue in his tail; for I have heard of yet another elephant, that when wounded in the fight, curved round his trunk and extracted the dart.

Fourth: Stealing unawares upon the whale in the fancied security of the middle of solitary seas, you find him unbent from the vast corpulence of his dignity, and kitten-like, he plays on the ocean as if it were a hearth. But still you see his power in his play. The broad palms of his tail are flirted high into the air; then smiting the surface, the thunderous concussion resounds for miles. You would almost think a great gun had been discharged; and if you noticed the light wreath of vapor from the spiracle at his other extremity, you would think that that was the smoke from the touch-hole.

Fifth: As in the ordinary floating posture of the Leviathan the flukes lie considerably below the level of his back, they are then completely out of sight beneath the surface; but when he is about to plunge into the deeps, his entire flukes with at least thirty feet of his body are tossed erect in the air, and so remain vibrating a moment, till they downwards shoot out of view. Excepting the sublime breach -- somewhere else to be described -- this peaking of the whale's flukes is perhaps the grandest sight to be seen in all animated nature. Out of the bottomless profundities the gigantic tail seems spasmodically snatching at the highest heaven. So in dreams, have I seen majestic Satan thrusting forth his tormented colossal claw from the flame Baltic of Hell. But in gazing at such scenes, it is all in all what mood you are in; if in the Dantean, the devils will occur to you; if in that of Isaiah, the archangels. Standing at the mast-head of my ship during a sunrise that crimsoned sky and sea, I once saw a large herd of whales in the east, all heading towards the sun, and for a moment vibrating in concert with peaked flukes. As it seemed to me at the time, such a grand


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embodiment of adoration of the gods was never beheld, even in Persia, the home of the fire worshippers. As Ptolemy Philopater testified of the African elephant, I then testified of the whale, pronouncing him the most devout of all beings. For according to King Juba, the military elephants of antiquity often hailed the morning with their trunks uplifted in the profoundest silence.

The chance comparison in this chapter, between the whale and the elephant, so far as some aspects of the tail of the one and the trunk of the other are concerned, should not tend to place those two opposite organs on an equality, much less the creatures to which they respectively belong. For as the mightiest elephant is but a terrier to Leviathan, so, compared with Leviathan's tail, his trunk is but the stalk of a lily. The most direful blow from the elephant's trunk were as the playful tap of a fan, compared with the measureless crush and crash of the Sperm Whale's ponderous flukes, which in repeated instances have one after the other hurled entire boats with all their oars and crews into the air, very much as an Indian juggler tosses his balls.

The more I consider this mighty tail, the more do I deplore my inability to express it. At times there are gestures in it, which, though they would well grace the hand of man, remain wholly inexplicable. In an extensive herd, so remarkable, occasionally, are these mystic gestures, that I have heard hunters who have declared them akin to Free-Mason signs and symbols; that the whale, indeed, by these methods intelligently conversed with the world. Nor are there wanting other motions of the whale in his general body, full of strangeness, and unaccountable to his most experienced assailant. Dissect him how I may, then, I but go skin deep; I know him not, and never will. But if I know not even the tail of this whale, how understand his head? much more, how comprehend his face, when face he has none?


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Thou shalt see my back parts, my tail, he seems to say, but my face shall not be seen. But I cannot completely make out his back parts; and hint what he will about his face, I say again he has no face.


Note: Though all comparison in the way of general bulk between the whale and the elephant is preposterous, inasmuch as in that particular the elephant stands in much the same respect to the whale that a dog does to the elephant; nevertheless, there are not wanting some points of curious similitude; among these is the spout. It is well known that the elephant will often draw up water or dust in his trunk, and then elevating it, jet it forth in a stream.


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Chapter lxxxvii
THE GRAND ARMADA

The long and narrow peninsula of Malacca, extending south-eastward from the territories of Birmah, forms the most southerly point of all Asia. In a continuous line from that peninsula stretch the long islands of Sumatra, Java, Bally, and Timor; which, with many others, form a vast mole, or rampart, lengthwise connecting Asia with Australia, and dividing the long unbroken Indian ocean from the thickly studded oriental archipelagoes. This rampart is pierced by several sally-ports for the convenience of ships and whales; conspicuous among which are the straits of Sunda and Malacca. By the straits of Sunda, chiefly, vessels bound to China from the west, emerge into the China seas.

Those narrow straits of Sunda divide Sumatra from Java; and standing midway in that vast rampart of islands, buttressed by that bold green promontory, known to seamen as Java Head; they not a little correspond to the central gateway opening into some vast walled empire: and considering the inexhaustible wealth of spices, and silks, and jewels, and gold, and ivory, with which the thousand islands of that oriental sea are enriched, it seems a significant provision of nature, that such treasures, by the very formation of the land, should at least bear the appearance, however ineffectual, of being guarded from the all-grasping western world. The shores of the Straits of Sunda are unsupplied with those domineering fortresses which guard the entrances to the Mediterranean, the Baltic, and the Propontis. Unlike the Danes, these Orientals do not demand the obsequious homage of lowered top-sails from the endless procession of ships


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before the wind, which for centuries past, by night and by day, have passed between the islands of Sumatra and Java, freighted with the costliest cargoes of the east. But while they freely waive a ceremonial like this, they do by no means renounce their claim to more solid tribute.

Time out of mind the piratical proas of the Malays, lurking among the low shaded coves and islets of Sumatra, have sallied out upon the vessels sailing through the straits, fiercely demanding tribute at the point of their spears. Though by the repeated bloody chastisements they have received at the hands of European cruisers, the audacity of these corsairs has of late been somewhat repressed; yet, even at the present day, we occasionally hear of English and American vessels, which, in those waters, have been remorselessly boarded and pillaged.

With a fair, fresh wind, the Pequod was now drawing nigh to these straits; Ahab purposing to pass through them into the Javan sea, and thence, cruising northwards, over waters known to be frequented here and there by the Sperm whale, sweep inshore by the Philippine Islands, and gain the far coast of Japan, in time for the great whaling season there. By these means, the circumnavigating Pequod would sweep almost all the known Sperm Whale cruising grounds of the world, previous to descending upon the Line in the Pacific; where Ahab, though everywhere else foiled in his pursuit, firmly counted upon giving battle to Moby Dick, in the sea he was most known to frequent; and at a season when he might most reasonably be presumed to be haunting it.

But how now? in this zoned quest, does Ahab touch no land? does his crew drink air? Surely, he will stop for water. Nay. For a long time, now, the circus-running sun has raced within his fiery ring, and needs no sustenance but what's in himself. So Ahab. Mark this, too, in the whaler. While other hulls are loaded down with alien stuff, to be transferred to foreign wharves; the world-wandering whale-ship carries no cargo but herself and crew, their weapons and their wants. She has a whole lake's contents bottled in her ample hold. She is ballasted with utilities; not altogether with unusable pig-lead and kentledge. She carries years' water in her. Clear old prime Nantucket water; which, when three years afloat, the Nantucketer,


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in the Pacific, prefers to drink before the brackish fluid, but yesterday rafted off in casks, from the Peruvian or Indian streams. Hence it is, that, while other ships may have gone to China from New York, and back again, touching at a score of ports, the whale-ship, in all that interval, may not have sighted one grain of soil; her crew having seen no man but floating seamen like themselves. So that did you carry them the news that another flood had come; they would only answer -- 'Well, boys, here's the ark!'

Now, as many Sperm Whales had been captured off the western coast of Java, in the near vicinity of the straits of Sunda; indeed, as most of the ground, roundabout, was generally recognised by the fishermen as an excellent spot for cruising; therefore, as the Pequod gained more and more upon Java Head, the look-outs were repeatedly hailed, and admonished to keep wide awake. But though the green palmy cliffs of the land soon loomed on the starboard bow, and with delighted nostrils the fresh cinnamon was snuffed in the air, yet not a single jet was descried. Almost renouncing all thought of falling in with any game hereabouts, the ship had well nigh entered the straits, when the customary cheering cry was heard from aloft, and ere long a spectacle of singular magnificence saluted us.

But here be it premised, that owing to the unwearied activity with which of late they have been hunted over all four oceans, the Sperm Whales, instead of almost invariably sailing in small detached companies, as in former times, are now frequently met with in extensive herds, sometimes embracing so great a multitude, that it would almost seem as if numerous nations of them had sworn solemn league and covenant for mutual assistance and protection. To this aggregation of the Sperm Whale into such immense caravans, may be imputed the circumstance that even in the best cruising grounds, you may now sometimes sail for weeks and months together, without being greeted by a single spout; and then be suddenly saluted by what sometimes seems thousands on thousands.

Broad on both bows, at the distance of some two or three miles, and forming a great semicircle, embracing one half of the level horizon, a continuous chain of whale-jets were up-playing and sparkling in the noon-day air. Unlike the straight perpendicular


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twin-jets of the Right Whale, which, dividing at top, falls over in two branches, like the cleft drooping boughs of a willow, the single forward-slanting spout of the Sperm Whale presents a thick curled bush of white mist, continually rising and falling away to leeward.

Seen from the Pequod's deck, then, as she would rise on a high hill of the sea, this host of vapory spouts, individually curling up into the air, and beheld through a blending atmosphere of bluish haze, showed like the thousand cheerful chimneys of some dense metropolis, descried of a balmy autumnal morning, by some horseman on a height.

As marching armies approaching an unfriendly defile in the mountains, accelerate their march, all eagerness to place that perilous passage in their rear, and once more expand in comparative security upon the plain; even so did this vast fleet of whales now seem hurrying forward through the straits; gradually contracting the wings of their semicircle, and swimming on, in one solid, but still crescentic centre.

Crowding all sail the Pequod pressed after them; the harpooneers handling their weapons, and loudly cheering from the heads of their yet suspended boats. If the wind only held, little doubt had they, that chased through these Straits of Sunda, the vast host would only deploy into the Oriental seas to witness the capture of not a few of their number. And who could tell whether, in that congregated caravan, Moby Dick himself might not temporarily be swimming, like the worshipped white-elephant in the coronation procession of the Siamese! So with stun-sail piled on stun-sail, we sailed along, driving these Leviathans before us; when, of a sudden, the voice of Tashtego was heard, loudly directing attention to something in our wake.

Corresponding to the crescent in our van, we beheld another in our rear. It seemed formed of detached white vapors, rising and falling something like the spouts of the whales; only they did not so completely come and go; for they constantly hovered, without finally disappearing. Levelling his glass at this sight, Ahab quickly revolved in his pivot-hole, crying, 'Aloft there, and rig whips and buckets to wet the sails; -- Malays, sir, and after us!'


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As if too long lurking behind the headlands, till the Pequod should fairly have entered the straits, these rascally Asiatics were now in hot pursuit, to make up for their over-cautious delay. But when the swift Pequod, with a fresh leading wind, was herself in hot chase; how very kind of these tawny philanthropists to assist in speeding her on to her own chosen pursuit, -- mere riding-whips and rowels to her, that they were. As with glass under arm, Ahab to-and-fro paced the deck; in his forward turn beholding the monsters he chased, and in the after one the bloodthirsty pirates chasing him; some such fancy as the above seemed his. And when he glanced upon the green walls of the watery defile in which the ship was then sailing, and bethought him that through that gate lay the route to his vengeance, and beheld, how that through that same gate he was now both chasing and being chased to his deadly end; and not only that, but a herd of remorseless wild pirates and inhuman atheistical devils were infernally cheering him on with their curses; -- when all these conceits had passed through his brain, Ahab's brow was left gaunt and ribbed, like the black sand beach after some stormy tide has been gnawing it, without being able to drag the firm thing from its place.

But thoughts like these troubled very few of the reckless crew; and when, after steadily dropping and dropping the pirates astern, the Pequod at last shot by the vivid green Cockatoo Point on the Sumatra side, emerging at last upon the broad waters beyond; then, the harpooneers seemed more to grieve that the swift whales had been gaining upon the ship, than to rejoice that the ship had so victoriously gained upon the Malays. But still driving on in the wake of the whales, at length they seemed abating their speed; gradually the ship neared them; and the wind now dying away, word was passed to spring to the boats. But no sooner did the herd, by some presumed wonderful instinct of the Sperm Whale, become notified of the three keels that were after them, -- though as yet a mile in their rear, -- than they rallied again, and forming in close ranks and battalions, so that their spouts all looked like flashing lines of stacked bayonets, moved on with redoubled velocity.

Stripped to our shirts and drawers, we sprang to the white-ash,


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and after several hours' pulling were almost disposed to renounce the chase, when a general pausing commotion among the whales gave animating token that they were now at last under the influence of that strange perplexity of inert irresolution, which, when the fishermen perceive it in the whale, they say he is gallied. The compact martial columns in which they had been hitherto rapidly and steadily swimming, were now broken up in one measureless rout; and like King Porus' elephants in the Indian battle with Alexander, they seemed going mad with consternation. In all directions expanding in vast irregular circles, and aimlessly swimming hither and thither, by their short thick spoutings, they plainly betrayed their distraction of panic. This was still more strangely evinced by those of their number, who, completely paralysed as it were, helplessly floated like water-logged dismantled ships on the sea. Had these Leviathans been but a flock of simple sheep, pursued over the pasture by three fierce wolves, they could not possibly have evinced such excessive dismay. But this occasional timidity is characteristic of almost all herding creatures. Though banding together in tens of thousands, the lion-maned buffaloes of the West have fled before a solitary horseman. Witness, too, all human beings, how when herded together in the sheepfold of a theatre's pit, they will, at the slightest alarm of fire, rush helter- skelter for the outlets, crowding, trampling, jamming, and remorselessly dashing each other to death. Best, therefore, withhold


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any amazement at the strangely gallied whales before us, for there is no folly of the beasts of the earth which is not infinitely outdone by the madness of men.

Though many of the whales, as has been said, were in violent motion, yet it is to be observed that as a whole the herd neither advanced nor retreated, but collectively remained in one place. As is customary in those cases, the boats at once separated, each making for some one lone whale on the outskirts of the shoal. In about three minutes' time, Queequeg's harpoon was flung; the stricken fish darted blinding spray in our faces, and then running away with us like light, steered straight for the heart of the herd. Though such a movement on the part of the whale struck under such circumstances, is in no wise unprecedented; and indeed is almost always more or less anticipated; yet does it present one of the more perilous vicissitudes of the fishery. For as the swift monster drags you deeper and deeper into the frantic shoal, you bid adieu to circumspect life and only exist in a delirious throb.

As, blind and deaf, the whale plunged forward, as if by sheer power of speed to rid himself of the iron leech that had fastened to him; as we thus tore a white gash in the sea, on all sides menaced as we flew, by the crazed creatures to and fro rushing about us; our beset boat was like a ship mobbed by ice-isles in a tempest, and striving to steer through their complicated channels and straits, knowing not at what moment it may be locked in and crushed.

But not a bit daunted, Queequeg steered us manfully; now sheering off from this monster directly across our route in advance; now edging away from that, whose colossal flukes were suspended overhead, while all the time, Starbuck stood up in the bows, lance in hand, pricking out of our way whatever whales he could reach by short darts, for there was no time to make long ones. Nor were the oarsmen quite idle, though their wonted duty was now altogether dispensed with. They chiefly attended to the shouting part of the business. 'Out of the way, Commodore!' cried one, to a great dromedary that of a sudden rose bodily to the surface, and for an instant threatened to swamp us. 'Hard down with your tail, there!' cried a second


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to another, which, close to our gunwale, seemed calmly cooling himself with his own fan-like extremity.

All whaleboats carry certain curious contrivances, originally invented by the Nantucket Indians, called druggs. Two thick squares of wood of equal size are stoutly clenched together, so that they cross each other's grain at right angles; a line of considerable length is then attached to the middle of this block, and the other end of the line being looped, it can in a moment be fastened to a harpoon. It is chiefly among gallied whales that this drugg is used. For then, more whales are close round you than you can possibly chase at one time. But Sperm Whales are not every day encountered; while you may, then, you must kill all you can. And if you cannot kill them all at once, you must wing them, so that they can be afterwards killed at your leisure. Hence it is, that at times like these the drugg comes into requisition. Our boat was furnished with three of them. The first and second were successfully darted, and we saw the whales staggeringly running off, fettered by the enormous sidelong resistance of the towing drugg. They were cramped like malefactors with the chain and ball. But upon flinging the third, in the act of tossing overboard the clumsy wooden block, it caught under one of the seats of the boat, and in an instant tore it out and carried it away, dropping the oarsman in the boat's bottom as the seat slid from under him. On both sides the sea came in at the wounded planks, but we stuffed two or three drawers and shirts in, and so stopped the leaks for the time.

It had been next to impossible to dart these drugged-harpoons, were it not that as we advanced into the herd, our whale's way greatly diminished; moreover, that as we went still further and further from the circumference of commotion, the direful disorders seemed waning. So that when at last the jerking harpoon drew out, and the towing whale sideways vanished; then, with the tapering force of his parting momentum, we glided between two whales into the innermost heart of the shoal, as if from some mountain torrent we had slid into a serene valley lake. Here the storms in the roaring glens between the outermost whales, were heard but not felt. In this central expanse the sea presented that smooth satin-like surface, called a sleek, produced


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by the subtle moisture thrown off by the whale in his more quiet moods. Yes, we were now in that enchanted calm which they say lurks at the heart of every commotion. And still in the distracted distance we beheld the tumults of the outer concentric circles, and saw successive pods of whales, eight or ten in each, swiftly going round and round, like multiplied spans of horses in a ring; and so closely shoulder to shoulder, that a Titanic circus-rider might easily have over-arched the middle ones, and so have gone round on their backs. Owing to the density of the crowd of reposing whales, more immediately surrounding the embayed axis of the herd, no possible chance of escape was at present afforded us. We must watch for a breach in the living wall that hemmed us in; the wall that had only admitted us in order to shut us up. Keeping at the centre of the lake, we were occasionally visited by small tame cows and calves; the women and children of this routed host.

Now, inclusive of the occasional wide intervals between the revolving outer circles, and inclusive of the spaces between the various pods in any one of those circles, the entire area at this juncture, embraced by the whole multitude, must have contained at least two or three square miles. At any rate -- though indeed such a test at such a time might be deceptive -- spoutings might be discovered from our low boat that seemed playing up almost from the rim of the horizon. I mention this circumstance, because, as if the cows and calves had been purposely locked up in this innermost fold; and as if the wide extent of the herd had hitherto prevented them from learning the precise cause of its stopping; or, possibly, being so young, unsophisticated, and every way innocent and inexperienced; however it may have been, these smaller whales -- now and then visiting our becalmed boat from the margin of the lake -- evinced a wondrous fearlessness and confidence, or else a still becharmed panic which it was impossible not to marvel at. Like household dogs they came snuffling round us, right up to our gunwales, and touching them; till it almost seemed that some spell had suddenly domesticated them. Queequeg patted their foreheads; Starbuck scratched their backs with his lance; but fearful of the consequences, for the time refrained from darting it.


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But far beneath this wondrous world upon the surface, another and still stranger world met our eyes as we gazed over the side. For, suspended in those watery vaults, floated the forms of the nursing mothers of the whales, and those that by their enormous girth seemed shortly to become mothers. The lake, as I have hinted, was to a considerable depth exceedingly transparent; and as human infants while suckling will calmly and fixedly gaze away from the breast, as if leading two different lives at the time; and while yet drawing mortal nourishment, be still spiritually feasting upon some unearthly reminiscence; -- even so did the young of these whales seem looking up towards us, but not at us, as if we were but a bit of Gulf-weed in their new-born sight. floating on their sides, the mothers also seemed quietly eyeing us. One of these little infants, that from certain queer tokens seemed hardly a day old, might have measured some fourteen feet in length, and some six feet in girth. He was a little frisky; though as yet his body seemed scarce yet recovered from that irksome position it had so lately occupied in the maternal reticule; where, tail to head, and all ready for the final spring, the unborn whale lies bent like a Tartar's bow. The delicate side- fins, and the palms of his flukes, still freshly retained the plaited crumpled appearance of a baby's ears newly arrived from foreign parts.

'Line! line!' cried Queequeg, looking over the gunwale; 'him fast! him fast! -- Who line him! Who struck? Two whale; one big, one little!'

'What ails ye, man?' cried Starbuck.

'Look-e here,' said Queequeg pointing down.

As when the stricken whale, that from the tub has reeled out hundreds of fathoms of rope; as, after deep sounding, he floats up again, and shows the slackened curling line buoyantly rising and spiralling towards the air; so now, Starbuck saw long coils of the umbilical cord of Madame Leviathan, by which the young cub seemed still tethered to its dam. Not seldom in the rapid vicissitudes of the chase, this natural line, with the maternal end loose, becomes entangled with the hempen one, so that the cub is thereby trapped. Some of the subtlest secrets of the seas


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seemed divulged to us in this enchanted pond. We saw young Leviathan amours in the deep.

And thus, though surrounded by circle upon circle of consternations and affrights, did these inscrutable creatures at the centre freely and fearlessly indulge in all peaceful concernments; yea, serenely revelled in dalliance and delight. But even so, amid the tornadoed Atlantic of my being, do I myself still for ever centrally disport in mute calm; and while ponderous planets of unwaning woe revolve round me, deep down and deep inland there I still bathe me in eternal mildness of joy.

Meanwhile, as we thus lay entranced, the occasional sudden frantic spectacles in the distance evinced the activity of the other boats, still engaged in drugging the whales on the frontier of the host; or possibly carrying on the war within the first circle, where abundance of room and some convenient retreats were afforded them. But the sight of the enraged drugged whales now and then blindly darting to and fro across the circles, was nothing to what at last met our eyes. It is sometimes the custom when fast to a whale more than commonly powerful and alert, to seek to hamstring him, as it were, by sundering or maiming his gigantic tail-tendon. It is done by darting a short-handled cutting-spade, to which is attached a rope for hauling it back again. A whale wounded (as we afterwards learned) in this part, but not effectually, as it seemed, had broken away from the boat, carrying along with him half of the harpoon line; and in the extraordinary agony of the wound, he was now dashing among the revolving circles like the lone mounted desperado


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Arnold, at the battle of Saratoga, carrying dismay wherever he went.

But agonizing as was the wound of this whale, and an appalling spectacle enough, any way; yet the peculiar horror with which he seemed to inspire the rest of the herd, was owing to a cause which at first the intervening distance obscured from us. But at length we perceived that by one of the unimaginable accidents of the fishery, this whale had become entangled in the harpoon-line that he towed; he had also run away with the cutting-spade in him; and while the free end of the rope attached to that weapon, had permanently caught in the coils of the harpoon-line round his tail, the cutting-spade itself had worked loose from his flesh. So that tormented to madness, he was now churning through the water, violently flailing with his flexible tail, and tossing the keen spade about him, wounding and murdering his own comrades.

This terrific object seemed to recall the whole herd from their stationary fright. First, the whales forming the margin of our lake began to crowd a little, and tumble against each other, as if lifted by half spent billows from afar; then the lake itself began faintly to heave and swell; the submarine bridal-chambers and nurseries vanished; in more and more contracting orbits the whales in the more central circles began to swim in thickening clusters. Yes, the long calm was departing. A low advancing hum was soon heard; and then like to the tumultuous masses of block-ice when the great river Hudson breaks up in Spring, the entire host of whales came tumbling upon their inner centre, as if to pile themselves up in one common mountain. Instantly Starbuck and Queequeg changed places; Starbuck taking the stern.

'Oars! Oars!' he intensely whispered, seizing the helm -- 'gripe your oars, and clutch your souls, now! My God, men, stand by! Shove him off, you Queequeg -- the whale there! -- prick him! -- hit him! Stand up -- stand up, and stay so! Spring, men -- pull, men; never mind their backs -- scrape them! -- scrape away!'

The boat was now all but jammed between two vast black bulks, leaving a narrow Dardanelles between their long lengths. But by desperate endeavor we at last shot into a temporary


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opening; then giving way rapidly, and at the same time earnestly watching for another outlet. After many similar hair-breadth escapes, we at last swiftly glided into what had just been one of the outer circles, but now crossed by random whales, all violently making for one centre. This lucky salvation was cheaply purchased by the loss of Queequeg's hat, who, while standing in the bows to prick the fugitive whales, had his hat taken clean from his head by the air-eddy made by the sudden tossing of a pair of broad flukes close by.

Riotous and disordered as the universal commotion now was, it soon resolved itself into what seemed a systematic movement; for having clumped together at last in one dense body, they then renewed their onward flight with augmented fleetness. Further pursuit was useless; but the boats still lingered in their wake to pick up what drugged whales might be dropped astern, and likewise to secure one which Flask had killed and waifed. The waif is a pennoned pole, two or three of which are carried by every boat; and which, when additional game is at hand, are inserted upright into the floating body of a dead whale, both to mark its place on the sea, and also as token of prior possession, should the boats of any other ship draw near.

The result of this lowering was somewhat illustrative of that sagacious saying in the Fishery, -- the more whales the less fish. Of all the drugged whales only one was captured. The rest contrived to escape for the time, but only to be taken, as will hereafter be seen, by some other craft than the Pequod.

Note: To gally, or gallow, is to frighten excessively -- to confound with fright. It is an old Saxon word. It occurs once in Shakespeare: -- The wrathful skies Gallow the very wanderers of the dark And make them keep their caves. To common language, the word is now completely obsolete. When the polite landsman first hears it from the gaunt Nantucketer, he is apt to set it down as one of the whaleman's self-derived savageries. Much the same is it with many other sinewy Saxonisms of this sort, which emigrated to New-England rocks with the noble brawn of the old English emigrants in the time of the Commonwealth. Thus, some of the best and furthest-descended English words -- the etymological Howards and Percys -- are now democratised, nay, plebeianised -- so to speak -- in the New World. The Sperm Whale, as with all other species of the Leviathan, but unlike most other fish, breeds indifferently at all seasons; after a gestation which may probably be set down at nine months, producing but one at a time; though in some few known instances giving birth to an Esau and Jacob: -- a contingency provided for in suckling by two teats, curiously situated, one on each side of the anus; but the breasts themselves extend upwards from that. When by chance these precious parts in a nursing whale are cut by the hunter's lance, the mother's pouring milk and blood rivallingly discolor the sea for rods. The milk is very sweet and rich; it has been tasted by man; it might do well with strawberries. When overflowing with mutual esteem, the whales salute more hominum.


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Chapter lxxxviii
SCHOOLS AND SCHOOLMASTERS

The previous chapter gave account of an immense body or herd of Sperm Whales, and there was also then given the probable cause inducing those vast aggregations.

Now, though such great bodies are at times encountered, yet,


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as must have been seen, even at the present day, small detached bands are occasionally observed, embracing from twenty to fifty individuals each. Such bands are known as schools. They generally are of two sorts; those composed almost entirely of females, and those mustering none but young vigorous males, or bulls, as they are familiarly designated.

In cavalier attendance upon the school of females, you invariably see a male of full grown magnitude, but not old; who, upon any alarm, evinces his gallantry by falling in the rear and covering the flight of his ladies. In truth, this gentleman is a luxurious Ottoman, swimming about over the watery world, surroundingly accompanied by all the solaces and endearments of the harem. The contrast between this Ottoman and his concubines is striking; because, while he is always of the largest Leviathanic proportions, the ladies, even at full growth, are not more than one third of the bulk of an average-sized male. They are comparatively delicate, indeed; I dare say, not to exceed half a dozen yards round the waist. Nevertheless, it cannot be denied, that upon the whole they are hereditarily entitled to en bon point.

It is very curious to watch this harem and its lord in their indolent ramblings. Like fashionables, they are for ever on the move in leisurely search of variety. You meet them on the Line in time for the full flower of the Equatorial feeding season, having just returned, perhaps, from spending the summer in the Northern seas, and so cheating summer of all unpleasant weariness and warmth. By the time they have lounged up and down the promenade of the Equator awhile, they start for the Oriental waters in anticipation of the cool season there, and so evade the other excessive temperature of the year.

When serenely advancing on one of these journeys, if any strange suspicious sights are seen, my lord whale keeps a wary eye on his interesting family. Should any unwarrantably pert young Leviathan coming that way, presume to draw confidentially close to one of the ladies, with what prodigious fury the Bashaw assails him, and chases him away! High times, indeed, if unprincipled young rakes like him are to be permitted to invade the sanctity of domestic bliss; though do what the Bashaw will, he cannot keep the most notorious Lothario out


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of his bed; for, alas! all fish bed in common. As ashore, the ladies often cause the most terrible duels among their rival admirers; just so with the whales, who sometimes come to deadly battle, and all for love. They fence with their long lower jaws, sometimes locking them together, and so striving for the supremacy like elks that warringly interweave their antlers. Not a few are captured having the deep scars of these encounters, -- furrowed heads, broken teeth, scolloped fins; and in some instances, wrenched and dislocated mouths.

But supposing the invader of domestic bliss to betake himself away at the first rush of the harem's lord, then is it very diverting to watch that lord. Gently he insinuates his vast bulk among them again and revels there awhile, still in tantalizing vicinity to young Lothario, like pious Solomon devoutly worshipping among his thousand concubines. Granting other whales to be in sight, the fishermen will seldom give chase to one of these Grand Turks; for these Grand Turks are too lavish of their strength, and hence their unctuousness is small. As for the sons and the daughters they beget, why, those sons and daughters must take care of themselves; at least, with only the maternal help. For like certain other omnivorous roving lovers that might be named, my Lord Whale has no taste for the nursery, however much for the bower; and so, being a great traveller, he leaves his anonymous babies all over the world; every baby an exotic. In good time, nevertheless, as the ardor of youth declines; as years and dumps increase; as reflection lends her solemn pauses; in short, as a general lassitude overtakes the sated Turk; then a love of ease and virtue supplants the love for maidens; our Ottoman enters upon the impotent, repentant, admonitory stage of life, forswears, disbands the harem, and grown to an exemplary, sulky old soul, goes about all alone among the meridians and parallels saying his prayers, and warning each young Leviathan from his amorous errors.

Now, as the harem of whales is called by the fishermen a school, so is the lord and master of that school technically known as the schoolmaster. It is therefore not in strict character, however admirably satirical, that after going to school himself, he should then go abroad inculcating not what he learned there, but the folly of it. His title, schoolmaster, would very naturally


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seem derived from the name bestowed upon the harem itself, but some have surmised that the man who first thus entitled this sort of Ottoman whale, must have read the memoirs of Vidocq, and informed himself what sort of a country-schoolmaster that famous Frenchman was in his younger days, and what was the nature of those occult lessons he inculcated into some of his pupils.

The same secludedness and isolation to which the schoolmaster whale betakes himself in his advancing years, is true of all aged Sperm Whales. Almost universally, a lone whale -- as a solitary Leviathan is called -- proves an ancient one. Like venerable moss-bearded Daniel Boone, he will have no one near him but Nature herself; and her he takes to wife in the wilderness of waters, and the best of wives she is, though she keeps so many moody secrets.

The schools composing none but young and vigorous males, previously mentioned, offer a strong contrast to the harem schools. For while those female whales are characteristically timid, the young males, or forty-barrel-bulls, as they call them, are by far the most pugnacious of all Leviathans, and proverbially the most dangerous to encounter; excepting those wondrous grey-headed, grizzled whales, sometimes met, and these will fight you like grim fiends exasperated by a penal gout.

The Forty-barrel-bull schools are larger than the harem schools. Like a mob of young collegians, they are full of fight, fun, and wickedness, tumbling round the world at such a reckless, rollicking rate, that no prudent underwriter would insure them any more than he would a riotous lad at Yale or Harvard. They soon relinquish this turbulence though, and when about three fourths grown, break up, and separately go about in quest of settlements, that is, harems.

Another point of difference between the male and female schools is still more characteristic of the sexes. Say you strike a Forty-barrel-bull -- poor devil! all his comrades quit him. But strike a member of the harem school, and her companions swim around her with every token of concern, sometimes lingering so near her and so long, as themselves to fall a prey.



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Chapter lxxxix
FAST-FISH AND LOOSE-FISH

The allusion to the waifs and waif-poles in the last chapter but one, necessitates some account of the laws and regulations of the whale fishery, of which the waif may be deemed the grand symbol and badge.

It frequently happens that when several ships are cruising in company, a whale may be struck by one vessel, then escape, and be finally killed and captured by another vessel; and herein are indirectly comprised many minor contingencies, all partaking of this one grand feature. For example, -- after a weary and perilous chase and capture of a whale, the body may get loose from the ship by reason of a violent storm; and drifting far away to leeward, be retaken by a second whaler, who, in a calm, snugly tows it alongside, without risk of life or line. Thus the most vexatious and violent disputes would often arise between the fishermen, were there not some written or unwritten, universal, undisputed law applicable to all cases.

Perhaps the only formal whaling code authorized by legislative enactment, was that of Holland. It was decreed by the States-General in A. D. 1695 . But though no other nation has ever had any written whaling law, yet the American fishermen have been their own legislators and lawyers in this matter. They have provided a system which for terse comprehensiveness surpasses Justinian's Pandects and the By-laws of the Chinese Society for the Suppression of Meddling with other People's Business. Yes; these laws might be engraven on a Queen Anne's farthing, or the barb of a harpoon, and worn round the neck, so small are they.

I. A Fast-Fish belongs to the party fast to it.

II. A Loose-Fish is fair game for anybody who can soonest catch it.

But what plays the mischief with this masterly code is the


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admirable brevity of it, which necessitates a vast volume of commentaries to expound it.

First: What is a Fast- Fish? Alive or dead a fish is technically fast, when it is connected with an occupied ship or boat, by any medium at all controllable by the occupant or occupants, -- a mast, an oar, a nine-inch cable, a telegraph wire, or a strand of cobweb, it is all the same. Likewise a fish is technically fast when it bears a waif, or any other recognised symbol of possession; so long as the party waifing it plainly evince their ability at any time to take it alongside, as well as their intention so to do.

These are scientific commentaries; but the commentaries of the whalemen themselves sometimes consist in hard words and harder knocks -- the Coke-upon-Littleton of the fist. True, among the more upright and honorable whalemen allowances are always made for peculiar cases, where it would be an outrageous moral injustice for one party to claim possession of a whale previously chased or killed by another party. But others are by no means so scrupulous.

Some fifty years ago there was a curious case of whale-trover litigated in England, wherein the plaintiffs set forth that after a hard chase of a whale in the Northern seas; and when indeed they (the plaintiffs) had succeeded in harpooning the fish; they were at last, through peril of their lives, obliged to forsake not only their lines, but their boat itself. Ultimately the defendants (the crew of another ship) came up with the whale, struck, killed, seized, and finally appropriated it before the very eyes of the plaintiffs. And when those defendants were remonstrated with, their captain snapped his fingers in the plaintiffs' teeth, and assured them that by way of doxology to the deed he had done, he would now retain their line, harpoons, and boat, which had remained attached to the whale at the time of the seizure. Wherefore the plaintiffs now sued for the recovery of the value of their whale, line, harpoons, and boat.

Mr. Erskine was counsel for the defendants; Lord Ellenborough was the judge. In the course of the defence, the witty Erskine went on to illustrate his position, by alluding to a recent crim. con. case, wherein a gentleman, after in vain trying to bridle his wife's viciousness, had at last abandoned her upon


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the seas of life; but in the course of years, repenting of that step, he instituted an action to recover possession of her. Erskine was on the other side; and he then supported it by saying, that though the gentleman had originally harpooned the lady, and had once had her fast, and only by reason of the great stress of her plunging viciousness, had as last abandoned her; yet abandon her he did, so that she became a loose-fish; and therefore when a subsequent gentleman re-harpooned her, the lady then became that subsequent gentleman's property, along with whatever harpoon might have been found sticking in her.

Now in the present case Erskine contended that the examples of the whale and the lady were reciprocally illustrative of each other.

These pleadings, and the counter pleadings, being duly heard, the very learned judge in set terms decided, to wit, -- That as for the boat, he awarded it to the plaintiffs, because they had merely abandoned it to save their lives; but that with regard to the controverted whale, harpoons, and line, they belonged to the defendants; the whale, because it was a Loose-Fish at the time of the final capture; and the harpoons and line because when the fish made off with them, it (the fish) acquired a property in those articles; and hence anybody who afterwards took the fish had a right to them. Now the defendants afterwards took the fish; ergo, the aforesaid articles were theirs.

A common man looking at this decision of the very learned Judge, might possibly object to it. But ploughed up to the primary rock of the matter, the two great principles laid down in the twin whaling laws previously quoted, and applied and elucidated by Lord Ellenborough in the above cited case; these two laws touching Fast-Fish and Loose-Fish, I say, will, on reflection, be found the fundamentals of all human jurisprudence; For notwithstanding its complicated tracery of sculpture, the Temple of the Law, like the Temple of the Philistines, has but two props to stand on.

Is it not a saying in every one's mouth, Possession is half of the law: that is, regardless of how the thing came into possession? But often possession is the whole of the law. What are the sinews and souls of Russian serfs and Republican slaves


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but Fast-Fish, whereof possession is the whole of the law? What to the rapacious landlord is the widow's last mite but a Fast-Fish? What is yonder undetected villain's marble mansion with a door- plate for a waif; what is that but a Fast-Fish? What is the ruinous discount which Mordecai, the broker, gets from poor Woebegone, the bankrupt, on a loan to keep Woebegone's family from starvation; what is that ruinous discount but a Fast-Fish? What is the archbishop of Savesoul's income of £100,000 seized from the scant bread and cheese of hundreds of thousands of broken- backed laborers (all sure of heaven without any of Savesoul's help) what is that globular 100,000 but a Fast-Fish? What are the Duke of Dunder's hereditary towns and hamlets but Fast-Fish? What to that redoubted harpooneer, John Bull, is poor Ireland, but a Fast-Fish? What to that apostolic lancer, Brother Jonathan, is Texas but a Fast-Fish? And concerning all these, is not Possession the whole of the law?

But if the doctrine of Fast-Fish be pretty generally applicable, the kindred doctrine of Loose-Fish is still more widely so. That is internationally and universally applicable.

What was America in 1492 but a loose-fish, in which Columbus struck the Spanish standard by way of waifing it for his royal master and mistress? What was Poland to the Czar? What Greece to the Turk? What India to England? What at last will Mexico be to the United States? All Loose-Fish.

What are the Rights of Man and the Liberties of the World but Loose-Fish? What all men's minds and opinions but Loose-Fish? What is the principle of religious belief in them but a Loose-Fish? What to the ostentatious smuggling verbalists are the thoughts of thinkers but Loose-Fish? What is the great globe itself but a Loose-Fish? And what are you, reader, but a Loose-Fish and a Fast-Fish, too?



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Chapter xc
HEADS OR TAILS

'De balena vero sufficit, si rex habeat caput, et regina caudam.' Bracton, l 3. c. 3.

Latin from the books of the Laws of England, which taken along with the context, means, that of all whales captured by anybody on the coast of that land, the King, as Honorary Grand Harpooneer, must have the head, and the Queen be respectfully presented with the tail. A division which, in the whale, is much like halving an apple; there is no intermediate remainder. Now as this law, under a modified form, is to this day in force in England; and as it offers in various respects a strange anomaly touching the general law of Fast and Loose-Fish, it is here treated of in a separate chapter, on the same courteous principle that prompts the English railways to be at the expense of a separate car, specially reserved for the accommodation of royalty. In the first place, in curious proof of the fact that the above- mentioned law is still in force, I proceed to lay before you a circumstance that happened within the last two years.

It seems that some honest mariners of Dover, or Sandwich, or some one of the Cinque Ports, had after a hard chase succeeded in killing and beaching a fine whale which they had originally descried afar off from the shore. Now the Cinque Ports are partially or somehow under the jurisdiction of a sort of policeman or beadle, called a Lord Warden. Holding the office directly from the crown, I believe, all the royal emoluments incident to the Cinque Port territories become by assignment his. By some writers this office is called a sinecure. But not so. Because the Lord Warden is busily employed at times in fobbing his perquisites; which are his chiefly by virtue of that same fobbing of them.

Now when these poor sun-burnt mariners, bare- footed, and


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with their trowsers rolled high up on their eely legs, had wearily hauled their fat fish high and dry, promising themselves a good 150 pounds from the precious oil and bone; and in fantasy sipping rare tea with their wives, and good ale with their cronies, upon the strength of their respective shares; up steps a very learned and most Christian and charitable gentleman, with a copy of Blackstone under his arm; and laying it upon the whale's head, he says -- 'Hands off! this fish, my masters, is a Fast-Fish. I seize it as the Lord Warden's'. Upon this the poor mariners in their respectful consternation -- so truly English -- knowing not what to say, fall to vigorously scratching their heads all round; meanwhile ruefully glancing from the whale to the stranger. But that did in nowise mend the matter, or at all soften the hard heart of the learned gentleman with the copy of Blackstone. At length one of them, after long scratching about for his ideas, made bold to speak.

'Please, Sir, who is the Lord Warden?'

'The Duke.'

'But the duke had nothing to do with taking this fish?'

'It is his.'

'We have been at great trouble, and peril, and some expense, and is all that to go to the Duke's benefit; we getting nothing at all for our pains but our blisters?'

'It is his.'

'Is the Duke so very poor as to be forced to this desperate mode of getting a livelihood?'

'It is his.'

'I thought to relieve my old bed-ridden mother by part of my share of this whale.'

'It is his.'

'Won't the Duke be content with a quarter or a half?'

'It is his.'

In a word, the whale was seized and sold, and his Grace the Duke of Wellington received the money. Thinking that viewed in some particular lights, the case might by a bare possibility in some small degree be deemed, under the circumstances, a rather hard one, an honest clergyman of the town respectfully addressed a note to his Grace, begging him to take the case of those unfortunate


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mariners into full consideration. To which my Lord Duke in substance replied (both letters were published) that he had already done so, and received the money, and would be obliged to the reverend gentleman if for the future he (the reverend gentleman) would decline meddling with other people's business. Is this the still militant old man, standing at the corners of the three kingdoms, on all hands coercing alms of beggars?

It will readily be seen that in this case the alleged right of the Duke to the whale was a delegated one from the Sovereign. We must needs inquire then on what principle the Sovereign is originally invested with that right. The law itself has already been set forth. But Plowdon gives us the reason for it. Says Plowdon, the whale so caught belongs to the King and Queen, 'because of its superior excellence.' And by the soundest commentators this has ever been held a cogent argument in such matters.

But why should the King have the head, and the Queen the tail? A reason for that, ye lawyers!

In his treatise on 'Queen-Gold', or Queen-pinmoney, an old King's Bench author, one William Prynne, thus discourseth: 'Ye tail is ye Queen's, that ye Queen's wardrobe may be supplied with ye whalebone'. Now this was written at a time when the black limber bone of the Greenland or Right whale was largely used in ladies' bodices. But this same bone is not in the tail; it is in the head, which is a sad mistake for a sagacious lawyer like Prynne. But is the Queen a mermaid, to be presented with a tail? An allegorical meaning may lurk here.

There are two royal fish so styled by the English law writers -- the whale and the sturgeon; both royal property under certain limitations, and nominally supplying the tenth branch of the crown's ordinary revenue. I know not that any other author has hinted of the matter; but by inference it seems to me that the sturgeon must be divided in the same way as the whale, the King receiving the highly dense and elastic head peculiar to that fish, which, symbolically regarded, may possibly be humorously grounded upon some presumed congeniality. And thus there seems a reason in all things, even in law.



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Chapter xci
THE PEQUOD MEETS THE ROSE-BUD

'In vain it was to rake for Ambergriese in the paunch of this Leviathan, insufferable fetor denying not inquiry.' Sir T. Browne, V. E.

It was a week or two after the last whaling scene recounted, and when we were slowly sailing over a sleepy, vapory, mid-day sea, that the many noses on the Pequod's deck proved more vigilant discoverers than the three pairs of eyes aloft. A peculiar and not very pleasant smell was smelt in the sea.

'I will bet something now,' said Stubb, 'that somewhere hereabouts are some of those drugged whales we tickled the other day. I thought they would keel up before long.'

Presently, the vapors in advance slid aside; and there in the distance lay a ship, whose furled sails betokened that some sort of whale must be alongside. As we glided nearer, the stranger showed French colors from his peak; and by the eddying cloud of vulture sea-fowl that circled, and hovered, and swooped around him, it was plain that the whale alongside must be what the fishermen call a blasted whale, that is, a whale that has died unmolested on the sea, and so floated an unappropriated corpse. It may well be conceived, what an unsavory odor such a mass must exhale; worse than an Assyrian city in the plague, when the living are incompetent to bury the departed. So intolerable indeed is it regarded by some, that no cupidity could persuade them to moor alongside of it. Yet are there those who will still do it; notwithstanding the fact that the oil obtained from such subjects is of a very inferior quality, and by no means of the nature of attar-of-rose.

Coming still nearer with the expiring breeze, we saw that the Frenchman had a second whale alongside; and this second whale seemed even more of a nosegay than the first. In truth, it turned out to be one of those problematical whales that seem


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to dry up and die with a sort of prodigious dyspepsia, or indigestion; leaving their defunct bodies almost entirely bankrupt of anything like oil. Nevertheless, in the proper place we shall see that no knowing fisherman will ever turn up his nose at such a whale as this, however much he may shun blasted whales in general.

The Pequod had now swept so nigh to the stranger, that Stubb vowed he recognized his cutting spade-pole entangled in the lines that were knotted round the tail of one of these whales.

'There's a pretty fellow, now,' he banteringly laughed, standing in the ship's bows, 'there's a jackal for ye! I well know that these Crappoes of Frenchmen are but poor devils in the fishery; sometimes lowering their boats for breakers, mistaking them for Sperm Whale spouts; yes, and sometimes sailing from their port with their hold full of boxes of tallow candles, and cases of snuffers, foreseeing that all the oil they will get won't be enough to dip the Captain's wick into; aye, we all know these things; but look ye, here's a Crappo that is content with our leavings, the drugged whale there, I mean; aye, and is content too with scraping the dry bones of that other precious fish he has there. Poor devil! I say, pass round a hat, some one, and let's make him a present of a little oil for dear charity's sake. For what oil he'll get from that drugged whale there, wouldn't be fit to burn in a jail; no, not in a condemned cell. And as for the other whale, why, I'll agree to get more oil by chopping up and trying out these three masts of ours, than he'll get from that bundle of bones; though, now that I think of it, it may contain something worth a good deal more than oil; yes, ambergris. I wonder now if our old man has thought of that. It's worth trying. Yes, I'm for it; and so saying he started for the quarter-deck.

By this time the faint air had become a complete calm; so that whether or no, the Pequod was now fairly entrapped in the smell, with no hope of escaping except by its breezing up again. Issuing from the cabin, Stubb now called his boat's crew, and pulled off for the stranger. Drawing across her bow, he perceived that in accordance with the fanciful French taste, the upper part of her stem-piece was carved in the likeness of a


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huge drooping stalk, was painted green, and for thorns had copper spikes projecting from it here and there; the whole terminating in a symmetrical folded bulb of a bright red color. Upon her head boards, in large gilt letters, he read 'Bouton de Rose,' -- Rose-button, or Rose-bud; and this was the romantic name of this aromatic ship.

Though Stubb did not understand the Bouton part of the inscription, yet the word rose, and the bulbous figure-head put together, sufficiently explained the whole to him.

'A wooden rose-bud, eh?' he cried with his hand to his nose, 'that will do very well; but how like all creation it smells!'

Now in order to hold direct communication with the people on deck, he had to pull round the bows to the starboard side, and thus come close to the blasted whale; and so talk over it.

Arrived then at this spot, with one hand still to his nose, he bawled -- 'Bouton-de-Rose, ahoy! are there any of you Bouton-de-Roses that speak English?'

'Yes,' rejoined a Guernsey-man from the bulwarks, who turned out to be the chief-mate.

'Well, then, my Bouton-de-Rose- bud, have you seen the White Whale?'

'What whale?'

'The White Whale -- a Sperm Whale -- Moby Dick, have ye seen him?'

'Never heard of such a whale. Cachalot Blanche! White Whale -- no.'

'Very good, then; good bye now, and I'll call again in a minute.'

Then rapidly pulling back towards the Pequod, and seeing Ahab leaning over the quarter-deck rail awaiting his report, he moulded his two hands into a trumpet and shouted -- 'No, Sir! No!' Upon which Ahab retired, and Stubb returned to the Frenchman.

He now perceived that the Guernsey-man, who had just got into the chains, and was using a cutting-spade, had slung his nose in a sort of bag.

'What's the matter with your nose, there?' said Stubb. 'Broke it?'


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'I wish it was broken, or that I didn't have any nose at all!' answered the Guernsey-man, who did not seem to relish the job he was at very much. 'But what are you holding yours for?'

'Oh, nothing! It's a wax nose; I have to hold it on. Fine day, aint it? Air rather gardenny, I should say; throw us a bunch of posies, will ye, Bouton-de-Rose?'

'What in the devil's name do you want here?' roared the Guernsey-man, flying into a sudden passion.

'Oh! keep cool -- cool? yes, that's the word; why don't you pack those whales in ice while you're working at 'em? But joking aside, though; do you know, Rose-bud, that it's all nonsense trying to get any oil out of such whales? As for that dried up one, there, he hasn't a gill in his whole carcase.'

'I know that well enough; but, d'ye see, the Captain here won't believe it; this is his first voyage; he was a Cologne manufacturer before. But come aboard, and mayhap he'll believe you, if he won't me; and so I'll get out of this dirty scrape.'

'Anything to oblige ye, my sweet and pleasant fellow,' rejoined Stubb, and with that he soon mounted to the deck. There a queer scene presented itself. The sailors, in tasselled caps of red worsted, were getting the heavy tackles in readiness for the whales. But they worked rather slow and talked very fast, and seemed in anything but a good humor. All their noses upwardly projected from their faces like so many jib- booms. Now and then pairs of them would drop their work, and run up to the mast-head to get some fresh air. Some thinking they would catch the plague, dipped oakum in coal-tar, and at intervals held it to their nostrils. Others having broken the stems of their pipes almost short off at the bowl, were vigorously puffing tobacco-smoke, so that it constantly filled their olfactories.

Stubb was struck by a shower of outcries and anathemas proceeding from the Captain's round-house abaft; and looking in that direction saw a fiery face thrust from behind the door, which was held ajar from within. This was the tormented surgeon, who, after in vain remonstrating against the proceedings of the day, had betaken himself to the Captain's round-house ( cabinet he called it) to avoid the pest; but still, could not help yelling out his entreaties and indignations at times.


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Marking all this, Stubb argued well for his scheme, and turning to the Guernsey-man had a little chat with him, during which the stranger mate expressed his detestation of his Captain as a conceited ignoramus, who had brought them all into so unsavory and unprofitable a pickle. Sounding him carefully, Stubb further perceived that the Guernsey-man had not the slightest suspicion concerning the ambergris. He therefore held his peace on that head, but otherwise was quite frank and confidential with him, so that the two quickly concocted a little plan for both circumventing and satirizing the Captain, without his at all dreaming of distrusting their sincerity. According to this little plan of theirs, the Guernsey-man, under cover of an interpreter's office, was to tell the Captain what he pleased, but as coming from Stubb; and as for Stubb, he was to utter any nonsense that should come uppermost in him during the interview.

By this time their destined victim appeared from his cabin. He was a small and dark, but rather delicate looking man for a sea-captain, with large whiskers and moustache, however; and wore a red cotton velvet vest with watch-seals at his side. To this gentleman, Stubb was now politely introduced by the Guernsey-man, who at once ostentatiously put on the aspect of interpreting between them.

'What shall I say to him first?' said he.

'Why,' said Stubb, eyeing the velvet vest and the watch and seals, 'you may as well begin by telling him that he looks a sort of babyish to me, though I don't pretend to be a judge.'

'He says, Monsieur,' said the Guernsey-man, in French, turning to his captain, 'that only yesterday his ship spoke a vessel, whose captain and chief-mate, with six sailors, had all died of a fever caught from a blasted whale they had brought alongside.'

Upon this the captain started, and eagerly desired to know more.

'What now?' said the Guernsey-man to Stubb.

'Why, since he takes it so easy, tell him that now I have eyed him carefully, I'm quite certain that he's no more fit to command a whale-ship than a St. Jago monkey. In fact, tell him from me he's a baboon.'


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'He vows and declares, Monsieur, that the other whale, the dried one, is far more deadly than the blasted one; in fine, Monsieur, he conjures us, as we value our lives, to cut loose from these fish.'

Instantly the captain ran forward, and in a loud voice commanded his crew to desist from hoisting the cutting-tackles, and at once cast loose the cables and chains confining the whales to the ship.

'What now?' said the Guernsey-man, when the captain had returned to them.

'Why, let me see; yes, you may as well tell him now that -- that -- in fact, tell him I've diddled him, and (aside to himself) perhaps somebody else.'

'He says, Monsieur, that he's very happy to have been of any service to us.'

Hearing this, the captain vowed that they were the grateful parties (meaning himself and mate) and concluded by inviting Stubb down into his cabin to drink a bottle of Bordeaux.

'He wants you to take a glass of wine with him,' said the interpreter.

'Thank him heartily; but tell him it's against my principles to drink with the man I've diddled. In fact, tell him I must go.'

'He says, Monsieur, that his principles won't admit of his drinking; but that if Monsieur wants to live another day to drink, then Monsieur had best drop all four boats, and pull the ship away from these whales, for it's so calm they won't drift.'

By this time Stubb was over the side, and getting into his boat, hailed the Guernsey-man to this effect, -- that having a long tow-line in his boat, he would do what he could to help them, by pulling out the lighter whale of the two from the ship's side. While the Frenchman's boats, then, were engaged in towing the ship one way, Stubb benevolently towed away at his whale the other way, ostentatiously slacking out a most unusually long tow-line.

Presently a breeze sprang up; Stubb feigned to cast off from the whale; hoisting his boats, the Frenchman soon increased his distance, while the Pequod slid in between him and Stubb's whale. Whereupon Stubb quickly pulled to the floating body,


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and hailing the pequod to give notice of his intentions, at once proceeded to reap the fruit of his unrighteous cunning. Seizing his sharp boat-spade, he commenced an excavation in the body, a little behind the side fin. You would almost have thought he was digging a cellar there in the sea; and when at length his spade struck against the gaunt ribs, it was like turning up old Roman tiles and pottery buried in fat English loam. His boat's crew were all in high excitement, eagerly helping their chief, and looking as anxious as gold-hunters.

And all the time numberless fowls were diving, and ducking, and screaming, and yelling, and fighting around them. Stubb was beginning to look disappointed, especially as the horrible nosegay increased, when suddenly from out the very heart of this plague, there stole a faint stream of perfume, which flowed through the tide of bad smells without being absorbed by it, as one river will flow into and then along with another, without at all blending with it for a time.

'I have it, I have it,' cried Stubb, with delight, striking something in the subterranean regions, 'a purse! a purse!'

Dropping his spade, he thrust both hands in, and drew out handfuls of something that looked like ripe Windsor soap, or rich mottled old cheese; very unctuous and savory withal. You might easily dent it with your thumb; it is of a hue between yellow and ash color. And this, good friends, is ambergris, worth a gold guinea an ounce to any druggist. Some six handfuls were obtained; but more was unavoidably lost in the sea, and still more, perhaps, might have been secured were it not for impatient Ahab's loud command to Stubb to desist, and come on board, else the ship would bid them good bye.



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Chapter xcii
AMBERGRIS

Now this ambergris is a very curious substance, and so important as an article of commerce, that in 1791 a certain Nantucket-born


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Captain Coffin was examined at the bar of the English House of Commons on that subject. for at that time, and indeed until a comparatively late day, the precise origin of ambergris remained, like amber itself, a problem to the learned. Though the word ambergris is but the French compound for grey amber, yet the two substances are quite distinct. For amber, though at times found on the sea-coast, is also dug up in some far inland soils, whereas ambergris is never found except upon the sea. Besides, amber is a hard, transparent, brittle, odorless substance, used for mouth- pieces to pipes, for beads and ornaments; but ambergris is soft, waxy, and so highly fragrant and spicy, that it is largely used in perfumery, in pastiles, precious candles, hair-powders, and pomatum. The Turks use it in cooking, and also carry it to Mecca, for the same purpose that frankincense is carried to St. Peter's in Rome. Some wine merchants drop a few grains into claret, to flavor it.

Who would think, then, that such fine ladies and gentlemen should regale themselves with an essence found in the inglorious bowels of a sick whale! Yet so it is. By some, ambergris is supposed to be the cause, and by others the effect, of the dyspepsia in the whale. How to cure such a dyspepsia it were hard to say, unless by administering three or four boat loads of Brandreth's pills, and then running out of harm's way, as laborers do in blasting rocks.

I have forgotten to say that there were found in this ambergris, certain hard, round, bony plates, which at first Stubb thought might be sailors' trousers buttons; but it afterwards turned out that they were nothing more than pieces of small squid bones embalmed in that manner.

Now that the incorruption of this most fragrant ambergris should be found in the heart of such decay; is this nothing? Bethink thee of that saying of St. Paul in Corinthians, about corruption and incorruption; how that we are sown in dishonor, but raised in glory. And likewise call to mind that saying of paracelsus about what it is that maketh the best musk. Also forget not the strange fact that of all things of ill- savor, Cologne-water, in its rudimental manufacturing stages, is the worst.

I should like to conclude the chapter with the above appeal, but cannot, owing to my anxiety to repel a charge often made


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against whalemen, and which, in the estimation of some already biased minds, might be considered as indirectly substantiated by what has been said of the Frenchman's two whales. Elsewhere in this volume the slanderous aspersion has been disproved, that the vocation of whaling is throughout a slatternly, untidy business. But there is another thing to rebut. They hint that all whales always smell bad. Now how did this odious stigma originate?

I opine, that it is plainly traceable to the first arrival of the Greenland whaling ships in London, more than two centuries ago. Because those whalemen did not then, and do not now, try out their oil at sea as the Southern ships have always done; but cutting up the fresh blubber in small bits, thrust it through the bung holes of large casks, and carry it home in that manner; the shortness of the season in those Icy Seas, and the sudden and violent storms to which they are exposed, forbidding any other course. The consequence is, that upon breaking into the hold, and unloading one of these whale cemeteries, in the Greenland dock, a savor is given forth somewhat similar to that arising from excavating an old city grave-yard, for the foundations of a Lying- in Hospital.

I partly surmise also, that this wicked charge against whalers may be likewise imputed to the existence on the coast of Greenland, in former times, of a Dutch village called Schmerenburgh or Smeerenberg, which latter name is the one used by the learned Fogo Von Slack, in his great work on Smells, a textbook on that subject. As its name imports (smeer, fat; berg, to put up), this village was founded in order to afford a place for the blubber of the dutch whale fleet to be tried out, without being taken home to Holland for that purpose. It was a collection of furnaces, fat-kettles, and oil sheds; and when the works were in full operation certainly gave forth no very pleasant savor. But all this is quite different from a South Sea Sperm Whaler; which in a voyage of four years perhaps, after completely filling her hold with oil, does not, perhaps, consume fifty days in the business of boiling out; and in the state that it is casked, the oil is nearly scentless. The truth is, that living or dead, if but decently treated, whales as a species are by no


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means creatures of ill odor; nor can whalemen be recognised, as the people of the middle ages affected to detect a Jew in the company, by the nose. Nor indeed can the whale possibly be otherwise than fragrant, when, as a general thing, he enjoys such high health; taking abundance of exercise; always out of doors; though, it is true, seldom in the open air. I say, that the motion of a Sperm Whale's flukes above water dispenses a perfume, as when a musk- scented lady rustles her dress in a warm parlor. What then shall I liken the Sperm Whale to for fragrance, considering his magnitude? Must it not be to that famous elephant, with jewelled tusks, and redolent with myrrh, which was led out of an Indian town to do honor to Alexander the Great?




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Chapter xciii
THE CASTAWAY

It was but some few days after encountering the Frenchman, that a most significant event befell the most insignificant of the Pequod's crew; an event most lamentable; and which ended in providing the sometimes madly merry and predestinated craft with a living and ever accompanying prophecy of whatever shattered sequel might prove her own.

Now, in the whale ship, it is not every one that goes in the boats. Some few hands are reserved called ship-keepers, whose province it is to work the vessel while the boats are pursuing the whale. As a general thing, these ship-keepers are as hardy fellows as the men comprising the boats' crews. But if there happen to be an unduly slender, clumsy, or timorous wight in the ship, that wight is certain to be made a ship-keeper. It was so in the Pequod with the little negro Pippin by nick-name, Pip by abbreviation. Poor Pip! ye have heard of him before; ye must remember his tambourine on that dramatic midnight, so gloomy- jolly.


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In outer aspect, Pip and Dough-Boy made a match, like a black pony and a white one, of equal developments, though of dissimilar color, driven in one eccentric span. But while hapless Dough-Boy was by nature dull and torpid in his intellects, Pip, though over tender-hearted, was at bottom very bright, with that pleasant, genial, jolly brightness peculiar to his tribe; a tribe, which ever enjoy all holidays and festivities with finer, freer relish than any other race. For blacks, the year's calendar should show naught but three hundred and sixty-five Fourth of Julys and New Year's Days. Nor smile so, while I write that this little black was brilliant, for even blackness has its brilliancy; behold yon lustrous ebony, panelled in king's cabinets. But Pip loved life, and all life's peaceable securities; so that the panic-striking business in which he had somehow unaccountably become entrapped, had most sadly blurred his brightness; though, as ere long will be seen, what was thus temporarily subdued in him, in the end was destined to be luridly illumined by strange wild fires, that fictitiously showed him off to ten times the natural lustre with which in his native Tolland County in Connecticut, he had once enlivened many a fiddler's frolic on the green; and at melodious even-tide, with his gay ha-ha! had turned the round horizon into one star-belled tambourine. So, though in the clear air of day, suspended against a blue-veined neck, the pure-watered diamond drop will healthful glow; yet, when the cunning jeweller would show you the diamond in its most impressive lustre, he lays it against a gloomy ground, and then lights it up, not by the sun, but by some unnatural gases. Then come out those fiery effulgences, infernally superb; then the evil-blazing diamond, once the divinest symbol of the crystal skies, looks like some crown- jewel stolen from the King of Hell. But let us to the story.

It came to pass, that in the ambergris affair Stubb's after-oarsman chanced so to sprain his hand, as for a time to become quite maimed; and, temporarily, Pip was put into his place.

The first time Stubb lowered with him, Pip evinced much nervousness; but happily, for that time, escaped close contact with the whale; and therefore came off not altogether discreditably; though Stubb observing him, took care, afterwards,


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to exhort him to cherish his courageousness to the utmost, for he might often find it needful.

Now upon the second lowering, the boat paddled upon the whale; and as the fish received the darted iron, it gave its customary rap, which happened, in this instance, to be right under poor Pip's seat. The involuntary consternation of the moment caused him to leap, paddle in hand, out of the boat; and in such a way, that part of the slack whale line coming against his chest, he breasted it overboard with him, so as to become entangled in it, when at last plumping into the water. That instant the stricken whale started on a fierce run, the line swiftly straightened; and presto! poor Pip came all foaming up to the chocks of the boat, remorselessly dragged there by the line, which had taken several turns around his chest and neck.

Tashtego stood in the bows. He was full of the fire of the hunt. He hated Pip for a poltroon. Snatching the boat-knife from its sheath, he suspended its sharp edge over the line, and turning towards Stubb, exclaimed interrogatively, 'Cut?' Meantime Pip's blue, choked face plainly looked, Do, for God's sake! All passed in a flash. In less than half a minute, this entire thing happened.

'Damn him, cut!' roared Stubb; and so the whale was lost and Pip was saved.

So soon as he recovered himself, the poor little negro was assailed by yells and execrations from the crew. Tranquilly permitting these irregular cursings to evaporate, Stubb then in a plain, business-like, but still half humorous manner, cursed Pip officially; and that done, unofficially gave him much wholesome advice. The substance was, Never jump from a boat, Pip, except -- but all the rest was indefinite, as the soundest advice ever is. Now, in general, Stick to the boat, is your true motto in whaling; but cases will sometimes happen when Leap from the boat, is still better. Moreover, as if perceiving at last that if he should give undiluted conscientious advice to Pip, he would be leaving him too wide a margin to jump in for the future; Stubb suddenly dropped all advice, and concluded with a peremptory command, 'Stick to the boat, Pip, or by the Lord, I wont pick you up if you jump; mind that. We can't afford


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to lose whales by the likes of you; a whale would sell for thirty times what you would, Pip, in Alabama. Bear that in mind, and don't jump any more.' Hereby perhaps Stubb indirectly hinted, that though man loved his fellow, yet man is a money-making animal, which propensity too often interferes with his benevolence.

But we are all in the hands of the Gods; and Pip jumped again. It was under very similar circumstances to the first performance; but this time he did not breast out the line; and hence, when the whale started to run, Pip was left behind on the sea, like a hurried traveller's trunk. Alas! Stubb was but too true to his word. It was a beautiful, bounteous, blue day; the spangled sea calm and cool, and flatly stretching away, all round, to the horizon, like gold-beater's skin hammered out to the extremest. Bobbing up and down in that sea, Pip's ebon head showed like a head of cloves. No boat-knife was lifted when he fell so rapidly astern. Stubb's inexorable back was turned upon him; and the whale was winged. In three minutes, a whole mile of shoreless ocean was between Pip and Stubb. Out from the centre of the sea, poor Pip turned his crisp, curling, black head to the sun, another lonely castaway, though the loftiest and the brightest.

Now, in calm weather, to swim in the open ocean is as easy to the practised swimmer as to ride in a spring- carriage ashore. But the awful lonesomeness is intolerable. The intense concentration of self in the middle of such a heartless immensity, my God! who can tell it? Mark, how when sailors in a dead calm bathe in the open sea -- mark how closely they hug their ship and only coast along her sides.

But had Stubb really abandoned the poor little negro to his fate? No; he did not mean to, at least. Because there were two boats in his wake, and he supposed, no doubt, that they would of course come up to Pip very quickly, and pick him up; though, indeed, such considerations towards oarsmen jeopardized through their own timidity, is not always manifested by the hunters in all similar instances; and such instances not unfrequently occur; almost invariably in the fishery, a coward, so called, is marked with the same ruthless detestation peculiar to military navies and armies.


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But it so happened, that those boats, without seeing Pip, suddenly spying whales close to them on one side, turned, and gave chase; and Stubb's boat was now so far away, and he and all his crew so intent upon his fish, that Pip's ringed horizon began to expand around him miserably. By the merest chance the ship itself at last rescued him; but from that hour the little negro went about the deck an idiot; such, at least, they said he was. The sea had jeeringly kept his finite body up, but drowned the infinite of his soul. Not drowned entirely, though. Rather carried down alive to wondrous depths, where strange shapes of the unwarped primal world glided to and fro before his passive eyes; and the miser-merman, Wisdom, revealed his hoarded heaps; and among the joyous, heartless, ever-juvenile eternities, Pip saw the multitudinous, God-omnipresent, coral insects, that out of the firmament of waters heaved the colossal orbs. He saw God's foot upon the treadle of the loom, and spoke it; and therefore his shipmates called him mad. So man's insanity is heaven's sense; and wandering from all mortal reason, man comes at last to that celestial thought, which, to reason, is absurd and frantic; and weal or woe, feels then uncompromised, indifferent as his God.

For the rest, blame not Stubb too hardly. The thing is common in that fishery; and in the sequel of the narrative, it will then be seen what like abandonment befell myself.



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Chapter xciv
A SQUEEZE OF THE HAND

That whale of Stubb's so dearly purchased, was duly brought to the Pequod's side, where all those cutting and hoisting operations previously detailed, were regularly gone through, even to the baling of the Heidelburgh Tun, or Case.

While some were occupied with this latter duty, others were employed in dragging away the larger tubs, so soon as filled with the sperm; and when the proper time arrived, this same


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sperm was carefully manipulated ere going to the try-works, of which anon.

It had cooled and crystallized to such a degree, that when, with several others, I sat down before a large Constantine's bath of it, I found it strangely concreted into lumps, here and there rolling about in the liquid part. It was our business to squeeze these lumps back into fluid. A sweet and unctuous duty! no wonder that in old times this sperm was such a favorite cosmetic. Such a clearer! such a sweetener! such a softener! such a delicious mollifier! After having my hands in it for only a few minutes, my fingers felt like eels, and began, as it were, to serpentine and spiralize.

As I sat there at my ease, cross-legged on the deck; after the bitter exertion at the windlass; under a blue tranquil sky; the ship under indolent sail, and gliding so serenely along; as I bathed my hands among those soft, gentle globules of infiltrated tissues, woven almost within the hour; as they richly broke to my fingers, and discharged all their opulence, like fully ripe grapes their wine; as I snuffed up that uncontaminated aroma, -- literally and truly, like the smell of spring violets; I declare to you, that for the time I lived as in a musky meadow; I forgot all about our horrible oath; in that inexpressible sperm, I washed my hands and my heart of it; I almost began to credit the old Paracelsan superstition that sperm is of rare virtue in allaying the heat of anger: while bathing in that bath, I felt divinely free from all ill-will, or petulence, or malice, of any sort whatsoever.

Squeeze! squeeze! squeeze! all the morning long; I squeezed that sperm till I myself almost melted into it; I squeezed that sperm till a strange sort of insanity came over me; and I found myself unwittingly squeezing my co-laborers' hands in it, mistaking their hands for the gentle globules. Such an abounding, affectionate, friendly, loving feeling did this avocation beget; that at last I was continually squeezing their hands, and looking up into their eyes sentimentally; as much as to say, -- Oh! my dear fellow beings, why should we longer cherish any social acerbities, or know the slightest ill-humor or envy! Come; let us squeeze hands all round; nay, let us all squeeze ourselves


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into each other; let us squeeze ourselves universally into the very milk and sperm of kindness.

Would that I could keep squeezing that sperm for ever! For now, since by many prolonged, repeated experiences, I have perceived that in all cases man must eventually lower, or at least shift, his conceit of attainable felicity; not placing it anywhere in the intellect or the fancy; but in the wife, the heart, the bed, the table, the saddle, the fire-side, the country; now that I have perceived all this, I am ready to squeeze case eternally. In thoughts of the visions of the night, I saw long rows of angels in paradise, each with his hands in a jar of spermaceti.

Now, while discoursing of sperm, it behooves to speak of other things akin to it, in the business of preparing the sperm whale for the try-works.

First comes white-horse, so called, which is obtained from the tapering part of the fish, and also from the thicker portions of his flukes. It is tough with congealed tendons -- a wad of muscle -- but still contains some oil. After being severed from the whale, the white-horse is first cut into portable oblongs ere going to the mincer. They look much like blocks of Berkshire marble.

Plum-pudding is the term bestowed upon certain fragmentary parts of the whale's flesh, here and there adhering to the blanket of blubber, and often participating to a considerable degree in its unctuousness. It is a most refreshing, convivial, beautiful object to behold. As its name imports, it is of an exceedingly rich, mottled tint, with a bestreaked snowy and golden ground, dotted with spots of the deepest crimson and purple. It is plums of rubies, in pictures of citron. Spite of reason, it is hard to keep yourself from eating it. I confess, that once I stole behind the foremast to try it. It tasted something as I should conceive a royal cutlet from the thigh of Louis le Gros might have tasted, supposing him to have been killed the first day after the venison season, and that particular venison season contemporary with an unusually fine vintage of the vineyards of Champagne.


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There is another substance, and a very singular one, which turns up in the course of this business, but which I feel it to be very puzzling adequately to describe. It is called slobgollion; an appellation original with the whalemen, and even so is the nature of the substance. It is an ineffably oozy, stringy affair, most frequently found in the tubs of sperm, after a prolonged squeezing, and subsequent decanting. I hold it to be the wondrously thin, ruptured membranes of the case, coalescing.

Gurry, so called, is a term properly belonging to right whalemen, but sometimes incidentally used by the sperm fishermen. It designates the dark, glutinous substance which is scraped off the back of the Greenland or right whale, and much of which covers the decks of those inferior souls who hunt that ignoble Leviathan.

Nippers. Strictly this word is not indigenous to the whale's vocabulary. But as applied by whalemen, it becomes so. A whaleman's nipper is a short firm strip of tendinous stuff cut from the tapering part of Leviathan's tail: it averages an inch in thickness, and for the rest, is about the size of the iron part of a hoe. Edgewise moved along the oily deck, it operates like a leathern squilgee; and by nameless blandishments, as of magic, allures along with it all impurities.

But to learn all about these recondite matters, your best way is at once to descend into the blubber-room, and have a long talk with its inmates. This place has previously been mentioned as the receptacle for the blanket-pieces, when stript and hoisted from the whale. When the proper time arrives for cutting up its contents, this apartment is a scene of terror to all tyros, especially by night. On one side, lit by a dull lantern, a space has been left clear for the workmen. They generally go in pairs, -- a pike-and-gaff-man and a spade-man. The whaling-pike is similar to a frigate's boarding-weapon of the same name. The gaff is something like a boat-hook. With his gaff, the gaffman hooks on to a sheet of blubber, and strives to hold it from slipping, as the ship pitches and lurches about. Meanwhile, the spade-man stands on the sheet itself, perpendicularly chopping it into the portable horse-pieces. This spade is sharp as hone can make it; the spademan's feet are shoeless; the thing


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he stands on will sometimes irresistibly slide away from him, like a sledge. If he cuts off one of his own toes, or one of his assistants', would you be very much astonished? Toes are scarce among veteran blubber-room men.

Chapter xcv
THE CASSOCK

Had you stepped on board the Pequod at a certain juncture of this post-mortemizing of the whale; and had you strolled forward nigh the windlass, pretty sure am I that you would have scanned with no small curiosity a very strange, enigmatical object, which you would have seen there, lying along lengthwise in the lee scuppers. Not the wondrous cistern in the whale's huge head; not the prodigy of his unhinged lower jaw; not the miracle of his symmetrical tail; none of these would so surprise you, as half a glimpse of that unaccountable cone, -- longer than a Kentuckian is tall, nigh a foot in diameter at the base, and jet-black as Yojo, the ebony idol of Queequeg. And an idol, indeed, it is; or, rather, in old times, its likeness was. Such an idol as that found in the secret groves of Queen Maachah in Judea; and for worshipping which, king Asa, her son, did depose her, and destroyed the idol, and burnt it for an abomination at the brook Kedron, as darkly set forth in the 15th chapter of the first book of Kings.

Look at the sailor, called the mincer, who now comes along, and assisted by two allies, heavily backs the grandissimus, as the mariners call it, and with bowed shoulders, staggers off with it as if he were a grenadier carrying a dead comrade from the field. extending it upon the forecastle deck, he now proceeds cylindrically to remove its dark pelt, as an African hunter the pelt of a boa. This done he turns the pelt inside out, like a pantaloon leg; gives it a good stretching, so as almost to double its diameter; and at last hangs it, well spread, in the


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rigging, to dry. Ere long, it is taken down; when removing some three feet of it, towards the pointed extremity, and then cutting two slits for arm-holes at the other end, he lengthwise slips himself bodily into it. The mincer now stands before you invested in the full canonicals of his calling. Immemorial to all his order, this investiture alone will adequately protect him, while employed in the peculiar functions of his office.

That office consists in mincing the horse-pieces of blubber for the pots; an operation which is conducted at a curious wooden horse, planted endwise against the bulwarks, and with a capacious tub beneath it, into which the minced pieces drop, fast as the sheets from a rapt orator's desk. Arrayed in decent black; occupying a conspicuous pulpit; intent on bible leaves; what a candidate for an archbishoprick, what a lad for a Pope were this mincer!

Note: Bible leaves! Bible leaves! This is the invariable cry from the mates to the mincer. It enjoins him to be careful, and cut his work into as thin slices as possible, inasmuch as by so doing the business of boiling out the oil is much accelerated, and its quantity considerably increased, besides perhaps improving it in quality.


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Chapter xcvi
THE TRY-WORKS

Besides her hoisted boats, an American whaler is outwardly distinguished by her try-works. She presents the curious anomaly of the most solid masonry joining with oak and hemp in constituting the completed ship. it is as if from the open field a brick-kiln were transported to her planks.

The try-works are planted between the foremast and main-mast, the most roomy part of the deck. The timbers beneath are of a peculiar strength, fitted to sustain the weight of an almost solid mass of brick and mortar, some ten feet by eight square, and five in height. The foundation does not penetrate the deck, but the masonry is firmly secured to the surface by


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ponderous knees of iron bracing it on all sides, and screwing it down to the timbers. On the flanks it is cased with wood, and at top completely covered by a large, sloping, battened hatchway. Removing this hatch we expose the great try-pots, two in number, and each of several barrels' capacity. When not in use, they are kept remarkably clean. Sometimes they are polished with soapstone and sand, till they shine within like silver punch-bowls. During the night-watches some cynical old sailors will crawl into them and coil themselves away there for a nap. While employed in polishing them -- one man in each pot, side by side -- many confidential communications are carried on, over the iron lips. It is a place also for profound mathematical meditation. It was in the left hand try-pot of the Pequod, with the soapstone diligently circling round me, that I was first indirectly struck by the remarkable fact, that in geometry all bodies gliding along the cycloid, my soapstone for example, will descend from any point in precisely the same time.

Removing the fire-board from the front of the try-works, the bare masonry of that side is exposed, penetrated by the two iron mouths of the furnaces, directly underneath the pots. These mouths are fitted with heavy doors of iron. The intense heat of the fire is prevented from communicating itself to the deck, by means of a shallow reservoir extending under the entire inclosed surface of the works. By a tunnel inserted at the rear, this reservoir is kept replenished with water as fast as it evaporates. There are no external chimneys; they open direct from the rear wall. And here let us go back for a moment.

It was about nine o'clock at night that the Pequod's try- works were first started on this present voyage. It belonged to Stubb to oversee the business.

'All ready there? Off hatch, then, and start her. You cook, fire the works.' This was an easy thing, for the carpenter had been thrusting his shavings into the furnace throughout the passage. Here be it said that in a whaling voyage the first fire in the try-works has to be fed for a time with wood. After that no wood is used, except as a means of quick ignition to the staple fuel. In a word, after being tried out, the crisp, shrivelled


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blubber, now called scraps or fritters, still contains considerable of its unctuous properties. These fritters feed the flames. Like a plethoric burning martyr, or a self-consuming misanthrope, once ignited, the whale supplies his own fuel and burns by his own body. Would that he consumed his own smoke! for his smoke is horrible to inhale, and inhale it you must, and not only that, but you must live in it for the time. It has an unspeakable, wild, Hindoo odor about it, such as may lurk in the vicinity of funereal pyres. It smells like the left wing of the day of judgment; it is an argument for the pit.

By midnight the works were in full operation. We were clear from the carcase; sail had been made; the wind was freshening; the wild ocean darkness was intense. But that darkness was licked up by the fierce flames, which at intervals forked forth from the sooty flues, and illuminated every lofty rope in the rigging, as with the famed Greek fire. The burning ship drove on, as if remorselessly commissioned to some vengeful deed. So the pitch and sulphur- freighted brigs of the bold Hydriote, Canaris, issuing from their midnight harbors, with broad sheets of flame for sails, bore down upon the turkish frigates, and folded them in conflagrations.

The hatch, removed from the top of the works, now afforded a wide hearth in front of them. Standing on this were the Tartarean shapes of the pagan harpooneers, always the whale-ship's stokers. With huge pronged poles they pitched hissing masses of blubber into the scalding pots, or stirred up the fires beneath, till the snaky flames darted, curling, out of the doors to catch them by the feet. The smoke rolled away in sullen heaps. To every pitch of the ship there was a pitch of the boiling oil, which seemed all eagerness to leap into their faces. Opposite the mouth of the works, on the further side of the wide wooden hearth, was the windlass. This served for a sea-sofa. Here lounged the watch, when not otherwise employed, looking into the red heat of the fire, till their eyes felt scorched in their heads. Their tawny features, now all begrimed with smoke and sweat, their matted beards, and the contrasting barbaric brilliancy of their teeth, all these were strangely revealed in the capricious emblazonings of the works. As they


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narrated to each other their unholy adventures, their tales of terror told in words of mirth; as their uncivilized laughter forked upwards out of them, like the flames from the furnace; as to and fro, in their front, the harpooneers wildly gesticulated with their huge pronged forks and dippers; as the wind howled on, and the sea leaped, and the ship groaned and dived, and yet steadfastly shot her red hell further and further into the blackness of the sea and the night, and scornfully champed the white bone in her mouth, and viciously spat round her on all sides; then the rushing Pequod, freighted with savages, and laden with fire, and burning a corpse, and plunging into that blackness of darkness, seemed the material counterpart of her monomaniac commander's soul.

So seemed it to me, as I stood at her helm, and for long hours silently guided the way of this fire- ship on the sea. Wrapped, for that interval, in darkness myself, I but the better saw the redness, the madness, the ghastliness of others. The continual sight of the fiend shapes before me, capering half in smoke and half in fire, these at last begat kindred visions in my soul, so soon as I began to yield to that unaccountable drowsiness which ever would come over me at a midnight helm.

But that night, in particular, a strange (and ever since inexplicable) thing occurred to me. Starting from a brief standing sleep, I was horribly conscious of something fatally wrong. The jaw-bone tiller smote my side, which leaned against it; in my ears was the low hum of sails, just beginning to shake in the wind; I thought my eyes were open; I was half conscious of putting my fingers to the lids and mechanically stretching them still further apart. But, spite of all this, I could see no compass before me to steer by; though it seemed but a minute since I had been watching the card, by the steady binnacle lamp illuminating it. Nothing seemed before me but a jet gloom, now and then made ghastly by flashes of redness. Uppermost was the impression, that whatever swift, rushing thing I stood on was not so much bound to any haven ahead as rushing from all havens astern. A stark, bewildered feeling, as of death, came over me. Convulsively my hands grasped the tiller, but with the crazy conceit that the tiller was, somehow,


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in some enchanted way, inverted. My God! what is the matter with me? thought I. Lo! in my brief sleep I had turned myself about, and was fronting the ship's stern, with my back to her prow and the compass. In an instant I faced back, just in time to prevent the vessel from flying up into the wind, and very probably capsizing her. How glad and how grateful the relief from this unnatural hallucination of the night, and the fatal contingency of being brought by the lee!

Look not too long in the face of the fire, O man! Never dream with thy hand on the helm! Turn not thy back to the compass; accept the first hint of the hitching tiller; believe not the artificial fire, when its redness makes all things look ghastly. To-morrow, in the natural sun, the skies will be bright; those who glared like devils in the forking flames, the morn will show in far other, at least gentler, relief; the glorious, golden, glad sun, the only true lamp -- all others but liars!

Nevertheless the sun hides not Virginia's Dismal Swamp, nor Rome's accursed Campagna, nor wide Sahara, nor all the millions of miles of deserts and of griefs beneath the moon. The sun hides not the ocean, which is the dark side of this earth, and which is two thirds of this earth. So, therefore, that mortal man who hath more of joy than sorrow in him, that mortal man cannot be true -- not true, or undeveloped. With books the same. The truest of all men was the Man of Sorrows, and the truest of all books is Solomon's, and Ecclesiastes is the fine hammered steel of woe. 'All is vanity'. ALL. This wilful world hath not got hold of unchristian Solomon's wisdom yet. But he who dodges hospitals and jails, and walks fast crossing grave- yards, and would rather talk of operas than hell; calls Cowper, Young, Pascal, Rousseau, poor devils all of sick men; and throughout a care-free lifetime swears by Rabelais as passing wise, and therefore jolly; -- not that man is fitted to sit down on tomb-stones, and break the green damp mould with unfathomably wondrous Solomon.

But even Solomon, he says, 'the man that wandereth out of the way of understanding shall remain' (i. e. even while living) 'in the congregation of the dead'. Give not thyself up, then, to fire, lest it invert thee, deaden thee; as for the time it did me.


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There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness. And there is a Catskill eagle in some souls that can alike dive down into the blackest gorges, and soar out of them again and become invisible in the sunny spaces. And even if he for ever flies within the gorge, that gorge is in the mountains; so that even in his lowest swoop the mountain eagle is still higher than other birds upon the plain, even though they soar.

Chapter xcvii
THE LAMP

Had you descended from the Pequod's try-works to the Pequod's forecastle, where the off duty watch were sleeping, for one single moment you would have almost thought you were standing in some illuminated shrine of canonized kings and counsellors. There they lay in their triangular oaken vaults, each mariner a chiselled muteness; a score of lamps flashing upon his hooded eyes.

In merchantmen, oil for the sailor is more scarce than the milk of queens. To dress in the dark, and eat in the dark, and stumble in darkness to his pallet, this is his usual lot. But the whaleman, as he seeks the food of light, so he lives in light. He makes his berth an Aladdin's lamp, and lays him down in it; so that in the pitchiest night the ship's black hull still houses an illumination.

See with what entire freedom the whaleman takes his handful of lamps -- often but old bottles and vials, though -- to the copper cooler at the try-works, and replenishes them there, as mugs of ale at a vat. He burns, too, the purest of oil, in its unmanufactured, and, therefore, unvitiated state; a fluid unknown to solar, lunar, or astral contrivances ashore. It is sweet as early grass butter in April. He goes and hunts for his oil, so as to be sure of its freshness and genuineness, even as the traveller on the prairie hunts up his own supper of game.



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Chapter xcviii
STOWING DOWN AND CLEARING UP

Already has it been related how the great Leviathan is afar off descried from the mast-head; how he is chased over the watery moors, and slaughtered in the valleys of the deep; how he is then towed alongside and beheaded; and how (on the principle which entitled the headsman of old to the garments in which the beheaded was killed) his great padded surtout becomes the property of his executioner; how, in due time, he is condemned to the pots, and, like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, his spermaceti, oil, and bone pass unscathed through the fire; -- but now it remains to conclude the last chapter of this part of the description by rehearsing -- singing, if I may -- the romantic proceeding of decanting off his oil into the casks and striking them down into the hold, where once again leviathan returns to his native profundities, sliding along beneath the surface as before; but, alas! never more to rise and blow.

While still warm, the oil, like hot punch, is received into the six-barrel casks; and while, perhaps, the ship is pitching and rolling this way and that in the midnight sea, the enormous casks are slewed round and headed over, end for end, and sometimes perilously scoot across the slippery deck, like so many land slides, till at last man-handled and stayed in their course; and all round the hoops, rap, rap, go as many hammers as can play upon them, for now, ex officio, every sailor is a cooper.

At length, when the last pint is casked, and all is cool, then the great hatchways are unsealed, the bowels of the ship are thrown open, and down go the casks to their final rest in the sea. This done, the hatches are replaced, and hermetically closed, like a closet walled up.

In the sperm fishery, this is perhaps one of the most remarkable incidents in all the business of whaling. One day the planks stream with freshets of blood and oil; on the sacred


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quarter-deck enormous masses of the whale's head are profanely piled; great rusty casks lie about, as in a brewery yard; the smoke from the try-works has besooted all the bulwarks; the mariners go about suffused with unctuousness; the entire ship seems great Leviathan himself; while on all hands the din is deafening.

But a day or two after, you look about you, and prick your ears in this self-same ship; and were it not for the tell-tale boats and try-works, you would all but swear you trod some silent merchant vessel, with a most scrupulously neat commander. The unmanufactured sperm oil possesses a singularly cleansing virtue. This is the reason why the decks never look so white as just after what they call an affair of oil. Besides, from the ashes of the burned scraps of the whale, a potent ley is readily made; and whenever any adhesiveness from the back of the whale remains clinging to the side, that ley quickly exterminates it. Hands go diligently along the bulwarks, and with buckets of water and rags restore them to their full tidiness. The soot is brushed from the lower rigging. All the numerous implements which have been in use are likewise faithfully cleansed and put away. The great hatch is scrubbed and placed upon the try-works, completely hiding the pots; every cask is out of sight; all tackles are coiled in unseen nooks; and when by the combined and simultaneous industry of almost the entire ship's company, the whole of this conscientious duty is at last concluded, then the crew themselves proceed to their own ablutions; shift themselves from top to toe; and finally issue to the immaculate deck, fresh and all aglow, as bridegrooms new-leaped from out the daintiest Holland.

Now, with elated step, they pace the planks in twos and threes, and humorously discourse of parlors, sofas, carpets, and fine cambrics; propose to mat the deck; think of having hangings to the top; object not to taking tea by moonlight on the piazza of the forecastle. To hint to such musked mariners of oil, and bone, and blubber, were little short of audacity. They know not the thing you distantly allude to. Away, and bring us napkins!

But mark: aloft there, at the three mast heads, stand three


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men intent on spying out more whales, which, if caught, infallibly will again soil the old oaken furniture, and drop at least one small grease-spot somewhere. Yes; and many is the time, when, after the severest uninterrupted labors, which know no night; continuing straight through for ninety-six hours; when from the boat, where they have swelled their wrists with all day rowing on the Line, -- they only step to the deck to carry vast chains, and heave the heavy windlass, and cut and slash, yea, and in their very sweatings to be smoked and burned anew by the combined fires of the equatorial sun and the equatorial try-works; when, on the heel of all this, they have finally bestirred themselves to cleanse the ship, and make a spotless dairy room of it; many is the time the poor fellows, just buttoning the necks of their clean frocks, are startled by the cry of 'There she blows!' and away they fly to fight another whale, and go through the whole weary thing again. Oh! my friends, but this is man-killing! Yet this is life. For hardly have we mortals by long toilings extracted from the world's vast bulk its small but valuable sperm; and then, with weary patience, cleansed ourselves from its defilements, and learned to live here in clean tabernacles of the soul; hardly is this done, when -- There she blows! -- the ghost is spouted up, and away we sail to fight some other world, and go through young life's old routine again.

Oh! the metempsychosis! Oh! Pythagoras, that in bright Greece, two thousand years ago, did die, so good, so wise, so mild; I sailed with thee along the Peruvian coast last voyage -- and, foolish as I am, taught thee, a green simple boy, how to splice a rope!



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Chapter xcix
THE DOUBLOON

Ere now it has been related how Ahab was wont to pace his quarter-deck, taking regular turns at either limit, the binnacle


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and mainmast; but in the multiplicity of other things requiring narration it has not been added how that sometimes in these walks, when most plunged in his mood, he was wont to pause in turn at each spot, and stand there strangely eyeing the particular object before him. When he halted before the binnacle, with his glance fastened on the pointed needle in the compass, that glance shot like a javelin with the pointed intensity of his purpose; and when resuming his walk he again paused before the mainmast, then, as the same riveted glance fastened upon the riveted gold coin there, he still wore the same aspect of nailed firmness, only dashed with a certain wild longing, if not hopefulness.

But one morning, turning to pass the doubloon, he seemed to be newly attracted by the strange figures and inscriptions stamped on it, as though now for the first time beginning to interpret for himself in some monomaniac way whatever significance might lurk in them. And some certain significance lurks in all things, else all things are little worth, and the round world itself but an empty cipher, except to sell by the cartload, as they do hills about Boston, to fill up some morass in the Milky Way.

Now this doubloon was of purest, virgin gold, raked somewhere out of the heart of gorgeous hills, whence, east and west, over golden sands, the head-waters of many a Pactolus flows. And though now nailed amidst all the rustiness of iron bolts and the verdigris of copper spikes, yet, untouchable and immaculate to any foulness, it still preserved its Quito glow. Nor, though placed amongst a ruthless crew and every hour passed by ruthless hands, and through the livelong nights shrouded with thick darkness which might cover any pilfering approach, nevertheless every sunrise found the doubloon where the sunset left it last. For it was set apart and sanctified to one awe-striking end; and however wanton in their sailor ways, one and all, the mariners revered it as the White Whale's talisman. Sometimes they talked it over in the weary watch by night, wondering whose it was to be at last, and whether he would ever live to spend it.

Now those noble golden coins of South America are as


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medals of the sun and tropic token-pieces. Here palms, alpacas, and volcanoes; sun's disks and stars; ecliptics, horns-of-plenty, and rich banners waving, are in luxuriant profusion stamped; so that the precious gold seems almost to derive an added preciousness and enhancing glories, by passing through those fancy mints, so Spanishly poetic.

It so chanced that the doubloon of the Pequod was a most wealthy example of these things. On its round border it bore the letters, REPUBLICA DEL ECUADOR: QUITO. So this bright coin came from a country planted in the middle of the world, and beneath the great equator, and named after it; and it had been cast midway up the Andes, in the unwaning clime that knows no autumn. Zoned by those letters you saw the likeness of three Andes' summits; from one a flame; a tower on another; on the third a crowing cock; while arching over all was a segment of the partitioned zodiac, the signs all marked with their usual cabalistics, and the keystone sun entering the equinoctial point at Libra.

Before this equatorial coin, Ahab, not unobserved by others, was now pausing.

'There's something ever egotistical in mountain-tops and towers, and all other grand and lofty things; look here, -- three peaks as proud as Lucifer. The firm tower, that is Ahab; the volcano, that is Ahab; the courageous, the undaunted, and victorious fowl, that, too, is Ahab; all are Ahab; and this round gold is but the image of the rounder globe, which, like a magician's glass, to each and every man in turn but mirrors back his own mysterious self. Great pains, small gains for those who ask the world to solve them; it cannot solve itself. Methinks now this coined sun wears a ruddy face; but see! aye, he enters the sign of storms, the equinox! and but six months before he wheeled out of a former equinox at Aries! From storm to storm! So be it, then. Born in throes, 't is fit that man should live in pains and die in pangs! So be it, then! Here's stout stuff for woe to work on. So be it, then.'

'No fairy fingers can have pressed the gold, but devil's claws must have left their mouldings there since yesterday,' murmured Starbuck to himself, leaning against the bulwarks. 'The old


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man seems to read Belshazzar's awful writing. I have never marked the coin inspectingly. He goes below; let me read. A dark valley between three mighty, heaven-abiding peaks, that almost seem the Trinity, in some faint earthly symbol. So in this vale of Death, God girds us round; and over all our gloom, the sun of Righteousness still shines a beacon and a hope. If we bend down our eyes, the dark vale shows her mouldy soil; but if we lift them, the bright sun meets our glance half way, to cheer. Yet, oh, the great sun is no fixture; and if, at midnight, we would fain snatch some sweet solace from him, we gaze for him in vain! This coin speaks wisely, mildly, truly, but still sadly to me. I will quit it, lest Truth shake me falsely.'

'There now's the old Mogul,' soliloquized Stubb by the try-works, 'he's been twigging it; and there goes Starbuck from the same, and both with faces which I should say might be somewhere within nine fathoms long. And all from looking at a piece of gold, which did I have it now on Negro Hill or in Corlaer's Hook, I'd not look at it very long ere spending it. Humph! in my poor, insignificant opinion, I regard this as queer. I have seen doubloons before now in my voyagings; your doubloons of old Spain, your doubloons of Peru, your doubloons of Chili, your doubloons of Bolivia, your doubloons of Popayan; with plenty of gold moidores and pistoles, and joes, and half joes, and quarter joes. what then should there be in this doubloon of the Equator that is so killing wonderful? By Golconda! let me read it once. Halloa! here's signs and wonders truly! That, now, is what old Bowditch in his Epitome calls the zodiac, and what my almanack below calls ditto. I'll get the almanack and as I have heard devils can be raised with Daboll's arithmetic, I'll try my hand at raising a meaning out of these queer curvicues here with the Massachusetts calendar. Here's the book. Let's see now. Signs and wonders; and the sun, he's always among 'em. Hem, hem, hem; here they are -- here they go -- all alive: -- Aries, or the Ram; Taurus, or the Bull and Jimimi! here's Gemini himself, or the Twins. Well; the sun he wheels among 'em. Aye, here on the coin he's just crossing the threshold between two of twelve sitting-rooms all in a ring. Book! you lie there; the fact is, you books must know your


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places. You'll do to give us the bare words and facts, but we come in to supply the thoughts. That's my small experience, so far as the Massachusetts calendar, and Bowditch's navigator, and Daboll's arithmetic go. Signs and wonders, eh? Pity if there is nothing wonderful in signs, and significant in wonders! There's a clue somewhere; wait a bit; hist -- hark! By Jove, I have it! Look you, Doubloon, your zodiac here is the life of man in one round chapter; and now I'll read it off, straight out of the book. Come, Almanack! To begin: there's Aries, or the Ram -- lecherous dog, he begets us; then, Taurus, or the Bull -- he bumps us the first thing; then Gemini, or the Twins -- that is, Virtue and Vice; we try to reach Virtue, when lo! comes Cancer the Crab, and drags us back; and here, going from Virtue, Leo, a roaring Lion, lies in the path -- he gives a few fierce bites and surly dabs with his paw; we escape, and hail Virgo, the Virgin! that's our first love; we marry and think to be happy for aye, when pop comes Libra, or the Scales -- happiness weighed and found wanting; and while we are very sad about that, Lord! how we suddenly jump, as Scorpio, or the Scorpion, stings us in rear; we are curing the wound, when whang come the arrows all round; Sagittarius, or the Archer, is amusing himself. As we pluck out the shafts, stand aside; here's the battering-ram, Capricornus, or the Goat; full tilt, he comes rushing, and headlong we are tossed; when Aquarius, or the Water- bearer, pours out his whole deluge and drowns us; and to wind up with Pisces, or the Fishes, we sleep. There's a sermon now, writ in high heaven, and the sun goes through it every year, and yet comes out of it all alive and hearty. Jollily he, aloft there, wheels through toil and trouble; and so, alow here, does jolly Stubb. Oh, jolly's the word for aye! Adieu, Doubloon! But stop; here comes little King-Post; dodge round the try-works, now, and let's hear what he'll have to say. There; he's before it; he'll out with something presently. So, so; he's beginning.'

'I see nothing here, but a round thing made of gold, and whoever raises a certain whale, this round thing belongs to him. So, what's all this staring been about? It is worth sixteen dollars, that's true; and at two cents the cigar, that's nine hundred and


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sixty cigars. I wont smoke dirty pipes like Stubb, but I like cigars, and here's nine hundred and sixty of them; so here goes Flask aloft to spy 'em out.'

'Shall I call that wise or foolish, now; if it be really wise it has a foolish look to it; yet, if it be really foolish, then has it a sort of wiseish look to it. But, avast; here comes our old Manxman -- the old hearse-driver, he must have been, that is, before he took to the sea. He luffs up before the doubloon; halloa, and goes round on the other side of the mast; why, there's a horse-shoe nailed on that side; and now he's back again; what does that mean? Hark! he's muttering -- voice like an old worn-out coffee-mill. Prick ears, and listen!'

'If the White Whale be raised, it must be in a month and a day, when the sun stands in some one of these signs. I've studied signs, and know their marks; they were taught me two score years ago, by the old witch in Copenhagen. Now, in what sign will the sun then be? The horse-shoe sign; for there it is, right opposite the gold. And what's the horse-shoe sign? The lion is the horse-shoe sign -- the roaring and devouring lion. Ship, old ship! my old head shakes to think of thee.'

'There's another rendering now; but still one text. All sorts of men in one kind of world, you see. Dodge again! here comes Queequeg -- all tattooing -- looks like the signs of the Zodiac himself. What says the Cannibal? As I live he's comparing notes; looking at his thigh bone; thinks the sun is in the thigh, or in the calf, or in the bowels, I suppose, as the old women talk Surgeon's Astronomy in the back country. And by Jove, he's found something there in the vicinity of his thigh -- I guess it's Sagittarius, or the Archer. No: he don't know what to make of the doubloon; he takes it for an old button off some king's trowsers. But, aside again! here comes that ghost-devil, Fedallah; tail coiled out of sight as usual, oakum in the toes of his pumps as usual. What does he say, with that look of his? Ah, only makes a sign to the sign and bows himself; there is a sun on the coin -- fire worshipper, depend upon it. Ho! more and more. This way comes Pip -- poor boy! would he had died, or I; he's half horrible to me. He too has been watching all of these interpreters -- myself included -- and look now, he comes to read,


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with that unearthly idiot face. stand away again and hear him. Hark!'

'I look, you look, he looks; we look, ye look, they look.'

'Upon my soul, he's been studying Murray's Grammar! Improving his mind, poor fellow! But what's that he says now -- hist!'

'I look, you look, he looks; we look, ye look, they look.'

'Why, he's getting it by heart -- hist! again.'

'I look, you look, he looks; we look, ye look, they look.'

'Well, that's funny.'

'And I, you, and he; and we, ye, and they, are all bats; and I'm a crow, especially when I stand a'top of this pine tree here. Caw! caw! caw! caw! caw! caw! Ain't I a crow? And where's the scare-crow? There he stands; two bones stuck into a pair of old trowsers, and two more poked into the sleeves of an old jacket.'

'Wonder if he means me? -- complimentary! -- poor lad! -- I could go hang myself. Any way, for the present, I'll quit Pip's vicinity. I can stand the rest, for they have plain wits; but he's too crazy-witty for my sanity. So, so, I leave him muttering.'

'Here's the ship's navel, this doubloon here, and they are all on fire to unscrew it. But, unscrew your navel, and what's the consequence? Then again, if it stays here, that is ugly, too, for when aught's nailed to the mast it's a sign that things grow desperate. Ha, ha! old Ahab! the White Whale; he'll nail ye! This is a pine tree. My father, in old Tolland county, cut down a pine tree once, and found a silver ring grown over in it; some old darkey's wedding ring. How did it get there? And so they'll say in the resurrection, when they come to fish up this old mast, and find a doubloon lodged in it, with bedded oysters for the shaggy bark. Oh, the gold! the precious, precious gold! -- the green miser 'll hoard ye soon! Hish! hish! God goes 'mong the worlds blackberrying. Cook! ho, cook! and cook us! Jenny! hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, Jenny, Jenny! and get your hoe- cake done!'



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Chapter c
LEG AND ARM THE PEQUOD, OF NANTUCKET, MEETS THE SAMUEL ENDERBY, OF LONDON

Ship, ahoy! Hast seen the White Whale?

So cried Ahab, once more hailing a ship showing English colors, bearing down under the stern. Trumpet to mouth, the old man was standing in his hoisted quarter-boat, his ivory leg plainly revealed to the stranger captain, who was carelessly reclining in his own boat's bow. He was a darkly-tanned, burly, good-natured, fine-looking man, of sixty or thereabouts, dressed in a spacious roundabout, that hung round him in festoons of blue pilot-cloth; and one empty arm of this jacket streamed behind him like the broidered arm of a huzzar's surcoat.

'Hast seen the White Whale?'

'See you this?' and withdrawing it from the fold that had hidden it, he held up a white arm of sperm whale bone, terminating in a wooden head like a mallet.

'Man my boat!' cried Ahab, impetuously, and tossing about the oars near him -- 'Stand by to lower!'

In less than a minute, without quitting his little craft, he and his crew were dropped to the water, and were soon alongside of the stranger. But here a curious difficulty presented itself. In the excitement of the moment, Ahab had forgotten that since the loss of his leg he had never once stepped on board of any vessel at sea but his own, and then it was always by an ingenious and very handy mechanical contrivance peculiar to the Pequod, and a thing not to be rigged and shipped in any other vessel at a moment's warning. Now, it is no very easy matter for anybody -- except those who are almost hourly used to it, like whalemen -- to clamber up a ship's side from a boat on the open sea; for the great swells now lift the boat high up towards


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the bulwarks, and then instantaneously drop it half way down to the kelson. so, deprived of one leg, and the strange ship of course being altogether unsupplied with the kindly invention, Ahab now found himself abjectly reduced to a clumsy landsman again; hopelessly eyeing the uncertain changeful height he could hardly hope to attain.

It has before been hinted, perhaps, that every little untoward circumstance that befel him, and which indirectly sprang from his luckless mishap, almost invariably irritated or exasperated Ahab. And in the present instance, all this was heightened by the sight of the two officers of the strange ship, leaning over the side, by the perpendicular ladder of nailed cleets there, and swinging towards him a pair of tastefully-ornamented man-ropes; for at first they did not seem to bethink them that a one-legged man must be too much of a cripple to use their sea bannisters. But this awkwardness only lasted a minute, because the strange captain, observing at a glance how affairs stood, cried out, 'I see, I see! -- avast heaving there! Jump, boys, and swing over the cutting-tackle.'

As good luck would have it, they had had a whale alongside a day or two previous, and the great tackles were still aloft, and the massive curved blubber-hook, now clean and dry, was still attached to the end. This was quickly lowered to Ahab, who at once comprehending it all, slid his solitary thigh into the curve of the hook (it was like sitting in the fluke of an anchor, or the crotch of an apple tree), and then giving the word, held himself fast, and at the same time also helped to hoist his own weight, by pulling hand-over-hand upon one of the running parts of the tackle. Soon he was carefully swung inside the high bulwarks, and gently landed upon the capstan head. With his ivory arm frankly thrust forth in welcome, the other captain advanced, and Ahab, putting out his ivory leg, and crossing the ivory arm (like two sword-fish blades) cried out in his walrus way, 'Aye, aye, hearty! let us shake bones together! -- an arm and a leg! -- an arm that never can shrink, d'ye see; and a leg that never can run. Where did'st thou see the White Whale? -- how long ago?'

'The White Whale', said the Englishman, pointing his ivory


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arm towards the East, and taking a rueful sight along it, as if it had been a telescope; 'There I saw him, on the Line, last season.'

'And he took that arm off, did he?' asked Ahab, now sliding down from the capstan, and resting on the Englishman's shoulder, as he did so.

'Aye, he was the cause of it, at least; and that leg, too?'

'Spin me the yarn,' said Ahab; 'how was it?'

'It was the first time in my life that I ever cruised on the Line', began the Englishman. 'I was ignorant of the White Whale at that time. Well, one day we lowered for a pod of four or five whales, and my boat fastened to one of them; a regular circus horse he was, too, that went milling and milling round so, that my boat's crew could only trim dish, by sitting all their sterns on the outer gunwale. Presently up breaches from the bottom of the sea a bouncing great whale, with a milky-white head and hump, all crows' feet and wrinkles.'

'It was he, it was he!' cried Ahab, suddenly letting out his suspended breath.

'And harpoons sticking in near his starboard fin.'

'Aye, aye -- they were mine -- my irons,' cried Ahab, exultingly -- 'but on!'

'Give me a chance, then,' said the Englishman, good-humoredly. 'Well, this old great-grandfather, with the white head and hump, runs all afoam into the pod, and goes to snapping furiously at my fast-line.'

'Aye, I see! -- wanted to part it; free the fast-fish -- an old trick -- I know him.'

'How it was exactly,' continued the one-armed commander, 'I do not know; but in biting the line, it got foul of his teeth, caught there somehow; but we didn't know it then; so that when we afterwards pulled on the line, bounce we came plump on to his hump! instead of the other whale's that went off to windward, all fluking. Seeing how matters stood, and what a noble great whale it was -- the noblest and biggest I ever saw, Sir, in my life -- I resolved to capture him, spite of the boiling rage he seemed to be in. And thinking the hap-hazard line would get loose, or the tooth it was tangled to might draw (for I have


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a devil of a boat's crew for a pull on a whale-line); seeing all this, I say, I jumped into my first mate's boat -- Mr. Mounttop's here (by the way, Captain -- Mounttop; Mounttop -- the captain); -- as I was saying, I jumped into Mounttop's boat, which, d'ye see, was gunwale and gunwale with mine, then; and snatching the first harpoon, let this old great-grandfather have it. But, Lord, look you, Sir -- hearts and souls alive, man -- the next instant, in a jiff, I was blind as a bat -- both eyes out -- all befogged and bedeadened with black foam -- the whale's tail looming straight up out of it, perpendicular in the air, like a marble steeple. No use sterning all, then; but as I was groping at midday, with a blinding sun, all crown-jewels; as I was groping, I say, after the second iron, to toss it overboard -- down comes the tail like a Lima tower, cutting my boat in two, leaving each half in splinters; and, flukes first, the white hump backed through the wreck, as though it was all chips. We all struck out. To escape his terrible flailings, I seized hold of my harpoon-pole sticking in him, and for a moment clung to that like a sucking fish. But a combing sea dashed me off, and at the same instant, the fish, taking one good dart forwards, went down like a flash; and the barb of that cursed second iron towing along near me caught me here' (clapping his hand just below his shoulder); 'yes, caught me just here, I say, and bore me down to Hell's flames, I was thinking; when, when, all of a sudden, thank the good God, the barb ript its way along the flesh -- clear along the whole length of my arm -- came out nigh my wrist, and up i floated; -- and that gentleman there will tell you the rest (by the way, captain -- Dr. Bunger, ship's surgeon: Bunger, my lad, -- the captain). Now, Bunger boy, spin your part of the yarn.'

The professional gentleman thus familiarly pointed out, had been all the time standing near them, with nothing specific visible, to denote his gentlemanly rank on board. His face was an exceedingly round but sober one; he was dressed in a faded blue woollen frock or shirt, and patched trowsers; and had thus far been dividing his attention between a marlingspike he held in one hand, and a pill-box held in the other, occasionally casting a critical glance at the ivory limbs of the two crippled captains. But, at his superior's introduction of him to Ahab, he


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politely bowed, and straightway went on to do his captain's bidding.

'It was a shocking bad wound,' began the whale-surgeon; 'and, taking my advice, Captain Boomer here, stood our old Sammy -- '

'Samuel Enderby is the name of my ship,' interrupted the one-armed captain, addressing Ahab; 'go on, boy'.

'Stood our old Sammy off to the northward, to get out of the blazing hot weather there on the Line. But it was no use -- I did all I could; sat up with him nights; was very severe with him in the matter of diet -- '

'Oh, very severe!' chimed in the patient himself; then suddenly altering his voice, 'Drinking hot rum toddies with me every night, till he couldn't see to put on the bandages; and sending me to bed, half seas over, about three o'clock in the morning. Oh, ye stars! he sat up with me indeed, and was very severe in my diet. Oh! a great watcher, and very dietetically severe, is Dr. Bunger. (Bunger, you dog, laugh out! why don't ye? You know you're a precious jolly rascal.) But, heave ahead, boy, I'd rather be killed by you than kept alive by any other man.'

'My captain, you must have ere this perceived, respected Sir' -- said the imperturbable godly-looking Bunger, slightly bowing to Ahab -- 'is apt to be facetious at times; he spins us many clever things of that sort. But I may as well say -- en passant, as the French remark -- that I myself -- that is to say, Jack Bunger, late of the reverend clergy -- am a strict total abstinence man; I never drink -- '

'Water!' cried the captain; 'he never drinks it; it's a sort of fits to him; fresh water throws him into the hydrophobia; but go on -- go on with the arm story.'

'Yes, I may as well,' said the surgeon, coolly. 'I was about observing, Sir, before Captain Boomer's facetious interruption, that spite of my best and severest endeavors, the wound kept getting worse and worse; the truth was, Sir, it was as ugly gaping wound as surgeon ever saw; more than two feet and several inches long. I measured it with the lead line. In short, it grew black; I knew what was threatened, and off it came.


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But I had no hand in shipping that ivory arm there; that thing is against all rule' -- pointing at it with the marlingspike -- 'that is the captain's work, not mine; he ordered the carpenter to make it; he had that club-hammer there put to the end, to knock some one's brains out with, I suppose, as he tried mine once. He flies into diabolical passions sometimes. Do ye see this dent, Sir' -- removing his hat, and brushing aside his hair, and exposing a bowl-like cavity in his skull, but which bore not the slightest scarry trace, or any token of ever having been a wound -- 'Well, the captain there will tell you how that came here; he knows.'

'No, I don't', said the captain, 'but his mother did; he was born with it. Oh, you solemn rogue, you -- you Bunger! was there ever such another Bunger in the watery world? Bunger, when you die, you ought to die in pickle, you dog; you should be preserved to future ages, you rascal.'

'What became of the White Whale?' now cried Ahab, who thus far had been impatiently listening to this bye-play between the two Englishmen.

'Oh!' cried the one-armed captain, 'Oh, yes! Well; after he sounded, we didn't see him again for some time; in fact, as I before hinted, I didn't then know what whale it was that had served me such a trick, till some time afterwards, when coming back to the Line, we heard about Moby Dick -- as some call him -- and then I knew it was he.'

'Did'st thou cross his wake again?'

'Twice.'

'But could not fasten?'

'Didn't want to try to: ain't one limb enough? What should I do without this other arm? And I'm thinking Moby Dick doesn't bite so much as he swallows.'

'Well, then,' interrupted Bunger, 'give him your left arm for bait to get the right. Do you know, gentlemen' -- very gravely and mathematically bowing to each Captain in succession -- 'Do you know, gentlemen, that the digestive organs of the whale are so inscrutably constructed by Divine Providence, that it is quite impossible for him to completely digest even a


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man's arm? And he knows it too. So that what you take for the White Whale's malice is only his awkwardness. For he never means to swallow a single limb; he only thinks to terrify by feints. But sometimes he is like the old juggling fellow, formerly a patient of mine in Ceylon, that making believe swallow jack- knives, once upon a time let one drop into him in good earnest, and there it stayed for a twelvemonth or more; when I gave him an emetic, and he heaved it up in small tacks, d'ye see. No possible way for him to digest that jack-knife, and fully incorporate it into his general bodily system. Yes, Captain Boomer, if you are quick enough about it, and have a mind to pawn one arm for the sake of the privilege of giving decent burial to the other, why in that case the arm is yours; only let the whale have another chance at you shortly, that's all.'

'No, thank ye, Bunger,' said the English captain, 'he's welcome to the arm he has, since I can't help it, and didn't know him then; but not to another one. No more White Whales for me; I've lowered for him once, and that has satisfied me. There would be great glory in killing him, I know that; and there is a ship-load of precious sperm in him, but, hark ye, he's best let alone; don't you think so, Captain?' -- glancing at the ivory leg.

'He is. But he will still be hunted, for all that. What is best let alone, that accursed thing is not always what least allures. He's all a magnet! How long since thou saw'st him last? Which way heading?'

'Bless my soul, and curse the foul fiend's,' cried Bunger, stoopingly walking round Ahab, and like a dog, strangely snuffing; 'this man's blood -- bring the thermometer; -- it's at the boiling point! -- his pulse makes these planks beat! -- Sir!' -- taking a lancet from his pocket, and drawing near to Ahab's arm.

'Avast!' roared Ahab, dashing him against the bulwarks -- 'Man the boat! Which way heading?'

'Good God!' cried the English Captain, to whom the question was put. 'What's the matter? He was heading east, I think. -- Is your Captain crazy?' whispering Fedallah.

But Fedallah, putting a finger on his lip, slid over the bulwarks


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to take the boat's steering oar, and Ahab, swinging the cutting- tackle towards him, commanded the ship's sailors to stand by to lower.

In a moment he was standing in the boat's stern, and the Manilla men were springing to their oars. In vain the English Captain hailed him. With back to the stranger ship, and face set like a flint to his own, Ahab stood upright till alongside of the Pequod.



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Chapter ci
THE DECANTER

Ere the English ship fades from sight, be it set down here, that she hailed from London, and was named after the late Samuel Enderby, merchant of that city, the original of the famous whaling house of enderby and sons; a house which in my poor whaleman's opinion, comes not far behind the united royal houses of the Tudors and Bourbons, in point of real historical interest. How long, prior to the year of our Lord 1775, this great whaling house was in existence, my numerous fish-documents do not make plain; but in that year (1775) it fitted out the first English ships that ever regularly hunted the Sperm Whale; though for some score of years previous (ever since 1726) our valiant Coffins and Maceys of Nantucket and the Vineyard had in large fleets pursued that Leviathan, but only in the North and South Atlantic: not elsewhere. Be it distinctly recorded here, that the Nantucketers were the first among mankind to harpoon with civilized steel the great Sperm Whale; and that for half a century they were the only people of the whole globe who so harpooned him.

In 1778, a fine ship, the Amelia, fitted out for the express purpose, and at the sole charge of the vigorous Enderbys, boldly rounded Cape Horn, and was the first among the nations to lower a whale- boat of any sort in the great South Sea. The


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voyage was a skilful and lucky one; and returning to her berth with her hold full of the precious sperm, the Amelia's example was soon followed by other ships, English and American, and thus the vast Sperm Whale grounds of the Pacific were thrown open. But not content with this good deed, the indefatigable house again bestirred itself: Samuel and all his Sons -- how many, their mother only knows -- and under their immediate auspices, and partly, I think, at their expense, the British government was induced to send the sloop-of-war Rattler on a whaling voyage of discovery into the South Sea. Commanded by a naval Post-Captain, the Rattler made a rattling voyage of it, and did some service; how much does not appear. But this is not all. In 1819, the same house fitted out a discovery whale ship of their own, to go on a tasting cruise to the remote waters of Japan. That ship -- well called the 'Syren' -- made a noble experimental cruise; and it was thus that the great Japanese Whaling Ground first became generally known. The Syren in this famous voyage was commanded by a Captain Coffin, a Nantucketer.

All honor to the Enderbies, therefore, whose house, I think, exists to the present day; though doubtless the original Samuel must long ago have slipped his cable for the great South Sea of the other world.

The ship named after him was worthy of the honor, being a very fast sailer and a noble craft every way. I boarded her once at midnight somewhere off the Patagonian coast, and drank good flip down in the forecastle. It was a fine gam we had, and they were all trumps -- every soul on board. A short life to them, and a jolly death. And that fine gam I had -- long, very long after old Ahab touched her planks with his ivory heel -- it minds me of the noble, solid, Saxon hospitality of that ship; and may my parson forget me, and the devil remember me, if I ever lose sight of it. Flip? Did I say we had flip? Yes, and we flipped it at the rate of ten gallons the hour; and when the squall came (for it's squally off there by Patagonia), and all hands -- visitors and all -- were called to reef topsails, we were so top-heavy that we had to swing each other aloft in bowlines; and we ignorantly furled the skirts of our jackets into


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the sails, so that we hung there, reefed fast in the howling gale, a warning example to all drunken tars. However, the masts did not go overboard; and by and bye we scrambled down, so sober, that we had to pass the flip again, though the savage salt spray bursting down the forecastle scuttle, rather too much diluted and pickled it to my taste.

The beef was fine -- tough, but with body in it. They said it was bull-beef; others, that it was dromedary beef; but I do not know, for certain, how that was. they had dumplings too; small, but substantial, symmetrically globular, and indestructible dumplings. I fancied that you could feel them, and roll them about in you after they were swallowed. If you stooped over too far forward, you risked their pitching out of you like billiard-balls. The bread -- but that couldn't be helped; besides, it was an anti-scorbutic; in short, the bread contained the only fresh fare they had. But the forecastle was not very light, and it was very easy to step over into a dark corner when you ate it. But all in all, taking her from truck to helm, considering the dimensions of the cook's boilers, including his own live parchment boilers; fore and aft, I say, the Samuel Enderby was a jolly ship; of good fare and plenty; fine flip and strong; crack fellows all, and capital from boot heels to hat- band.

But why was it, think ye, that the Samuel Enderby, and some other English whalers I know of -- not all though -- were such famous, hospitable ships; that passed round the beef, and the bread, and the can, and the joke; and were not soon weary of eating, and drinking, and laughing? I will tell you. The abounding good cheer of these English whalers is matter for historical research. Nor have I been at all sparing of historical whale research, when it has seemed needed.

The English were preceded in the whale fishery by the Hollanders, Zealanders, and Danes; from whom they derived many terms still extant in the fishery; and what is yet more, their fat old fashions, touching plenty to eat and drink. For, as a general thing, the English merchant-ship scrimps her crew; but not so the English whaler. Hence, in the English, this thing of whaling good cheer is not normal and natural, but incidental and particular; and, therefore, must have some special origin,


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which is here pointed out, and will be still further elucidated.

During my researches in the leviathanic histories, I stumbled upon an ancient Dutch volume, which, by the musty whaling smell of it, I knew must be about whalers. The title was, 'Dan Coopman', wherefore I concluded that this must be the invaluable memoirs of some Amsterdam cooper in the fishery, as every whale ship must carry its cooper. I was reinforced in this opinion by seeing that it was the production of one 'Fitz Swackhammer'. But my friend Dr. Snodhead, a very learned man, professor of Low Dutch and High German in the college of Santa Claus and St. Pott's, to whom I handed the work for translation, giving him a box of sperm candles for his trouble -- this same Dr. Snodhead, so soon as he spied the book, assured me that 'Dan Coopman' did not mean 'The Cooper', but 'The Merchant'. In short, this ancient and learned Low Dutch book treated of the commerce of Holland; and, among other subjects, contained a very interesting account of its whale fishery. And in this chapter it was, headed 'Smeer', or 'Fat', that I found a long detailed list of the outfits for the larders and cellars of 180 sail of Dutch whalemen; from which list, as translated by Dr. Snodhead. I transcribe the following: 400,000 lbs. of beef. 60,000 lbs. Friesland pork. 150,000 lbs. of stock fish. 550,000 lbs. of biscuit. 72,000 lbs. of soft bread. 2,800 firkins of butter. 20,000 lbs. of Texel and Leyden cheese. 144,000 lbs. cheese (probably an inferior article). 550 ankers of Geneva. 10,800 barrels of beer.

Most statistical tables are parchingly dry in the reading; not so in the present case, however, where the reader is flooded with whole pipes, barrels, quarts, and gills of good gin and good cheer.

At the time, I devoted three days to the studious digesting of all this beer, beef, and bread, during which many profound


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thoughts were incidentally suggested to me, capable of a transcendental and Platonic application; and, furthermore, I compiled supplementary tables of my own, touching the probable quantity of stock-fish, &c., consumed by every Low Dutch harpooneer in that ancient Greenland and Spitzbergen whale fishery. In the first place, the amount of butter, and Texel and Leyden cheese consumed, seems amazing. I impute it, though, to their naturally unctuous natures, being rendered still more unctuous by the nature of their vocation, and especially by their pursuing their game in those frigid Polar Seas, on the very coasts of that Esquimaux country where the convivial natives pledge each other in bumpers of train oil.

The quantity of beer, too, is very large, 10,800 barrels. Now, as those polar fisheries could only be prosecuted in the short summer of that climate, so that the whole cruise of one of these Dutch whalemen, including the short voyage to and from the Spitzbergen sea, did not much exceed three months, say, and reckoning 30 men to each of their fleet of 180 sail, we have 5,400 Low Dutch seamen in all; therefore, I say, we have precisely two barrels of beer per man, for a twelve weeks' allowance, exclusive of his fair proportion of that 550 ankers of gin. Now, whether these gin and beer harpooneers, so fuddled as one might fancy them to have been, were the right sort of men to stand up in a boat's head, and take good aim at flying whales; this would seem somewhat improbable. Yet they did aim at them, and hit them too. But this was very far North, be it remembered, where beer agrees well with the constitution; upon the Equator, in our southern fishery, beer would be apt to make the harpooneer sleepy at the mast-head and boozy in his boat; and grievous loss might ensue to Nantucket and New Bedford.

But no more; enough has been said to show that the old Dutch whalers of two or three centuries ago were high livers; and that the English whalers have not neglected so excellent an example. For, say they, when cruising in an empty ship, if you can get nothing better out of the world, get a good dinner out of it, at least. And this empties the decanter.



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Chapter cii
A BOWER IN THE ARSACIDES

Hitherto, in descriptively treating of the Sperm Whale, I have chiefly dwelt upon the marvels of his outer aspect; or separately and in detail upon some few interior structural features. But to a large and thorough sweeping comprehension of him, it behoves me now to unbutton him still further, and untagging the points of his hose, unbuckling his garters, and casting loose the hooks and the eyes of the joints of his innermost bones, set him before you in his ultimatum; that is to say, in his unconditional skeleton.

But how now, Ishmael? How is it, that you, a mere oarsman in the fishery, pretend to know aught about the subterranean parts of the whale? Did erudite Stubb, mounted upon your capstan, deliver lectures on the anatomy of the Cetacea; and by help of the windlass, hold up a specimen rib for exhibition? Explain thyself, Ishmael. Can you land a full-grown whale on your deck for examination, as a cook dishes a roast-pig? Surely not. A veritable witness have you hitherto been, Ishmael; but have a care how you seize the privilege of Jonah alone; the privilege of discoursing upon the joists and beams; the rafters, ridge-pole, sleepers, and under- pinnings, making up the frame-work of leviathan; and belike of the tallow-vats, dairy-rooms, butteries, and cheeseries in his bowels.

I confess, that since Jonah, few whalemen have penetrated very far beneath the skin of the adult whale; nevertheless, I have been blessed with an opportunity to dissect him in miniature. In a ship I belonged to, a small cub Sperm Whale was once bodily hoisted to the deck for his poke or bag, to make sheaths for the barbs of the harpoons, and for the heads of the lances. Think you I let that chance go, without using my boat- hatchet and jack-knife, and breaking the seal and reading all the contents of that young cub?


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And as for my exact knowledge of the bones of the leviathan in their gigantic, full grown development, for that rare knowledge I am indebted to my late royal friend Tranquo, king of Tranque, one of the Arsacides. For being at Tranque, years ago, when attached to the trading-ship Dey of Algiers, I was invited to spend part of the Arsacidean holidays with the lord of Tranque, at his retired palm villa at Pupella; a sea-side glen not very far distant from what our sailors called Bamboo-Town, his capital.

Among many other fine qualities, my royal friend Tranquo, being gifted with a devout love for all matters of barbaric vertu, had brought together in Pupella whatever rare things the more ingenious of his people could invent; chiefly carved woods of wonderful devices, chiselled shells, inlaid spears, costly paddles, aromatic canoes; and all these distributed among whatever natural wonders, the wonder-freighted, tribute- rendering waves had cast upon his shores.

Chief among these latter was a great Sperm Whale, which, after an unusually long raging gale, had been found dead and stranded, with his head against a cocoa-nut tree, whose plumage-like, tufted droopings seemed his verdant jet. When the vast body had at last been stripped of its fathom-deep enfoldings, and the bones become dust dry in the sun, then the skeleton was carefully transported up the Pupella glen, where a grand temple of lordly palms now sheltered it.

The ribs were hung with trophies; the vertebrae were carved with Arsacidean annals, in strange hieroglyphics; in the skull, the priests kept up an unextinguished aromatic flame, so that the mystic head again sent forth its vapory spout; while, suspended from a bough, the terrific lower jaw vibrated over all the devotees, like the hair-hung sword that so affrighted Damocles.

It was a wondrous sight. the wood was green as mosses of the icy Glen; the trees stood high and haughty, feeling their living sap; the industrious earth beneath was as a weaver's loom, with a gorgeous carpet on it, whereof the ground-vine tendrils formed the warp and woof, and the living flowers the figures. All the trees, with all their laden branches; all the shrubs, and ferns, and grasses; the message-carrying air; all


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these unceasingly were active. Through the lacings of the leaves, the great sun seemed a flying shuttle weaving the unwearied verdure. Oh, busy weaver! unseen weaver! -- pause! -- one word! -- whither flows the fabric? what palace may it deck? wherefore all these ceaseless toilings? Speak, weaver! -- stay thy hand! -- but one single word with thee! Nay -- the shuttle flies -- the figures float from forth the loom; the freshet- rushing carpet for ever slides away. The weaver-god, he weaves; and by that weaving is he deafened, that he hears no mortal voice; and by that humming, we, too, who look on the loom are deafened; and only when we escape it shall we hear the thousand voices that speak through it. For even so it is in all material factories. The spoken words that are inaudible among the flying spindles; those same words are plainly heard without the walls, bursting from the opened casements. Thereby have villanies been detected. Ah, mortal! then, be heedful; for so, in all this din of the great world's loom, thy subtlest thinkings may be overheard afar.

Now, amid the green, life-restless loom of that Arsacidean wood, the great, white, worshipped skeleton lay lounging -- a gigantic idler! Yet, as the ever-woven verdant warp and woof intermixed and hummed around him, the mighty idler seemed the cunning weaver; himself all woven over with the vines; every month assuming greener, fresher verdure; but himself a skeleton. Life folded Death; Death trellised Life; the grim god wived with youthful Life, and begat him curly-headed glories.

Now, when with royal Tranquo I visited this wondrous whale, and saw the skull an altar, and the artificial smoke ascending from where the real jet had issued, I marvelled that the king should regard a chapel as an object of vertu. He laughed. But more I marvelled that the priests should swear that smoky jet of his was genuine. To and fro I paced before this skeleton -- brushed the vines aside -- broke through the ribs -- and with a ball of Arsacidean twine, wandered, eddied long amid its many winding, shaded collonades and arbors. But soon my line was out; and following it back, I emerged from the opening where I entered. I saw no living thing within; naught was there but bones.


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Cutting me a green measuring-rod, I once more dived within the skeleton. From their arrow-slit in the skull, the priests perceived me taking the altitude of the final rib. 'How now!' they shouted; 'Dar'st thou measure this our god! That's for us.' 'Aye, priests -- well, how long do ye make him, then?' But hereupon a fierce contest rose among them, concerning feet and inches; they cracked each other's sconces with their yard-sticks -- the great skull echoed -- and seizing that lucky chance, I quickly concluded my own admeasurements.

These admeasurements I now propose to set before you. But first, be it recorded, that, in this matter, I am not free to utter any fancied measurement I please. Because there are skeleton authorities you can refer to, to test my accuracy. There is a Leviathanic Museum, they tell me, in Hull, England, one of the whaling ports of that country, where they have some fine specimens of fin-backs and other whales. Likewise, I have heard that in the museum of Manchester, in New Hampshire, they have what the proprietors call 'the only perfect specimen of a Greenland or River Whale in the United States.' Moreover, at a place in Yorkshire, England, Burton Constable by name, a certain Sir Clifford Constable has in his possession the skeleton of a Sperm Whale, but of moderate size, by no means of the full-grown magnitude of my friend King Tranquo's.

In both cases, the stranded whales to which these two skeletons belonged, were originally claimed by their proprietors upon similar grounds. King Tranquo seizing his because he wanted it; and Sir Clifford, because he was lord of the seignories of those parts. Sir Clifford's whale has been articulated throughout; so that, like a great chest of drawers, you can open and shut him, in all his bony cavities -- spread out his ribs like a gigantic fan -- and swing all day upon his lower jaw. Locks are to be put upon some of his trap-doors and shutters; and a footman will show round future visitors with a bunch of keys at his side. Sir Clifford thinks of charging twopence for a peep at the whispering gallery in the spinal column; threepence to hear the echo in the hollow of his cerebellum; and sixpence for the unrivalled view from his forehead.

The skeleton dimensions I shall now proceed to set down are


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copied verbatim from my right arm, where I had them tattooed; as in my wild wanderings at that period, there was no other secure way of preserving such valuable statistics. But as I was crowded for space, and wished the other parts of my body to remain a blank page for a poem I was then composing -- at least, what untattooed parts might remain -- I did not trouble myself with the odd inches; nor, indeed, should inches at all enter into a congenial admeasurement of the whale.




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Chapter ciii
MEASUREMENT OF THE WHALE'S SKELETON

In the first place, I wish to lay before you a particular, plain statement, touching the living bulk of this Leviathan, whose skeleton we are briefly to exhibit. Such a statement may prove useful here.

According to a careful calculation I have made, and which I partly base upon Captain Scoresby's estimate, of seventy tons for the largest sized Greenland whale of sixty feet in length; according to my careful calculation, I say, a Sperm Whale of the largest magnitude, between eighty-five and ninety feet in length, and something less than forty feet in its fullest circumference, such a whale will weigh at least ninety tons; so that reckoning thirteen men to a ton, he would considerably outweigh the combined population of a whole village of one thousand one hundred inhabitants.

Think you not then that brains, like yoked cattle, should be put to this leviathan, to make him at all budge to any landsman's imagination?

Having already in various ways put before you his skull, spout-hole, jaw, teeth, tail, forehead, fins, and divers other parts, I shall now simply point out what is most interesting in the general bulk of his unobstructed bones. But as the colossal skull embraces so very large a proportion of the entire extent


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of the skeleton; as it is by far the most complicated part; and as nothing is to be repeated concerning it in this chapter, you must not fail to carry it in your mind, or under your arm, as we proceed, otherwise you will not gain a complete notion of the general structure we are about to view.

In length, the Sperm Whale's skeleton at Tranque measured seventy-two feet; so that when fully invested and extended in life, he must have been ninety feet long; for in the whale, the skeleton loses about one fifth in length compared with the living body. Of this seventy- two feet, his skull and jaw comprised some twenty feet, leaving some fifty feet of plain back-bone. Attached to this back-bone, for something less than a third of its length, was the mighty circular basket of ribs which once enclosed his vitals.

To me this vast ivory-ribbed chest, with the long, unrelieved spine, extending far away from it in a straight line, not a little resembled the hull of a great ship new-laid upon the stocks, when only some twenty of her naked bow-ribs are inserted, and the keel is otherwise, for the time, but a long, disconnected timber.

The ribs were ten on a side. The first, to begin from the neck, was nearly six feet long; the second, third, and fourth were each successively longer, till you came to the climax of the fifth, or one of the middle ribs, which measured eight feet and some inches. From that part, the remaining ribs diminished, till the tenth and last only spanned five feet and some inches. In general thickness, they all bore a seemly correspondence to their length. The middle ribs were the most arched. In some of the Arsacides they are used for beams whereon to lay foot-path bridges over small streams.

In considering these ribs, I could not but be struck anew with the circumstance, so variously repeated in this book, that the skeleton of the whale is by no means the mould of his invested form. The largest of the Tranque ribs, one of the middle ones, occupied that part of the fish which, in life, is greatest in depth. Now, the greatest depth of the invested body of this particular whale must have been at least sixteen feet; whereas, the corresponding rib measured but little more than eight feet. So that this rib only conveyed half of the true notion of the living


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magnitude of that part. Besides, for some way, where I now saw but a naked spine, all that had been once wrapped round with tons of added bulk in flesh, muscle, blood, and bowels. Still more, for the ample fins, I here saw but a few disordered joints; and in place of the weighty and majestic, but boneless flukes, an utter blank!

How vain and foolish, then, thought I, for timid untravelled man to try to comprehend aright this wondrous whale, by merely poring over his dead attenuated skeleton, stretched in this peaceful wood. no. only in the heart of quickest perils; only when within the eddyings of his angry flukes; only on the profound unbounded sea, can the fully invested whale be truly and livingly found out.

But the spine. For that, the best way we can consider it is, with a crane, to pile its bones high up on end. No speedy enterprise. But now it's done, it looks much like Pompey's Pillar.

There are forty and odd vertebrae in all, which in the skeleton are not locked together. They mostly lie like the great knobbed blocks on a Gothic spire, forming solid courses of heavy masonry. The largest, a middle one, is in width something less than three feet, and in depth more than four. The smallest, where the spine tapers away into the tail, is only two inches in width, and looks something like a white billiard-ball. I was told that there were still smaller ones, but they had been lost by some little cannibal urchins, the priest's children, who had stolen them to play marbles with. Thus we see how that the spine of even the hugest of living things tapers off at last into simple child's play.



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Chapter civ
THE FOSSIL WHALE

From his mighty bulk the whale affords a most congenial theme whereon to enlarge, amplify, and generally expatiate. Would you, you could not compress him. By good rights he


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should only be treated of in imperial folio. Not to tell over again his furlongs from spiracle to tail, and the yards he measures about the waist; only think of the gigantic involutions of his intestines, where they lie in him like great cables and hausers coiled away in the subterranean orlop-deck of a line-of- battle-ship.

Since I have undertaken to manhandle this Leviathan, it behoves me to approve myself omnisciently exhaustive in the enterprise; not overlooking the minutest seminal germs of his blood, and spinning him out to the uttermost coil of his bowels. Having already described him in most of his present habitatory and anatomical peculiarities, it now remains to magnify him in an archaeological, fossiliferous, and antediluvian point of view. Applied to any other creature than the Leviathan -- to an ant or a flea -- such portly terms might justly be deemed unwarrantably grandiloquent. But when Leviathan is the text, the case is altered. Fain am I to stagger to this emprise under the weightiest words of the dictionary. And here be it said, that whenever it has been convenient to consult one in the course of these dissertations, I have invariably used a huge quarto edition of Johnson, expressly purchased for that purpose; because that famous lexicographer's uncommon personal bulk more fitted him to compile a lexicon to be used by a whale author like me.

One often hears of writers that rise and swell with their subject, though it may seem but an ordinary one. How, then, with me, writing of this Leviathan? Unconsciously my chirography expands into placard capitals. Give me a condor's quill! Give me Vesuvius' crater for an inkstand! Friends, hold my arms! For in the mere act of penning my thoughts of this Leviathan, they weary me, and make me faint with their out-reaching comprehensiveness of sweep, as if to include the whole circle of the sciences, and all the generations of whales, and men, and mastodons, past, present, and to come, with all the revolving panoramas of empire on earth, and throughout the whole universe, not excluding its suburbs. Such, and so magnifying, is the virtue of a large and liberal theme! We expand to its bulk. To produce a mighty book, you must choose a


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mighty theme. No great and enduring volume can ever be written on the flea, though many there be who have tried it.

Ere entering upon the subject of Fossil Whales, I present my credentials as a geologist, by stating that in my miscellaneous time I have been a stone-mason, and also a great digger of ditches, canals, and wells, wine-vaults, cellars, and cisterns of all sorts. Likewise, by way of preliminary, I desire to remind the reader, that while in the earlier geological strata there are found the fossils of monsters now almost completely extinct; the subsequent relics discovered in what are called the Tertiary formations seem the connecting, or at any rate intercepted links, between the antichronical creatures, and those whose remote posterity are said to have entered the Ark; all the Fossil Whales hitherto discovered belong to the Tertiary period, which is the last preceding the superficial formations. And though none of them precisely answer to any known species of the present time, they are yet sufficiently akin to them in general respects, to justify their taking ranks as Cetacean fossils.

Detached broken fossils of pre-adamite whales, fragments of their bones and skeletons, have within thirty years past, at various intervals, been found at the base of the Alps, in Lombardy, in France, in England, in Scotland, and in the States of Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama. Among the more curious of such remains is part of a skull, which in the year 1779 was disinterred in the Rue Dauphine in Paris, a short street opening almost directly upon the palace of the Tuileries; and bones disinterred in excavating the great docks of Antwerp, in Napoleon's time. Cuvier pronounced these fragments to have belonged to some utterly unknown Leviathanic species.

But by far the most wonderful of all cetacean relics was the almost complete vast skeleton of an extinct monster, found in the year 1842, on the plantation of Judge Creagh, in Alabama. The awe-stricken credulous slaves in the vicinity took it for the bones of one of the fallen angels. The Alabama doctors declared it a huge reptile, and bestowed upon it the name of Basilosaurus. But some specimen bones of it being taken across the sea to owen, the English Anatomist, it turned out that this alleged reptile was a whale, though of a departed species.


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A significant illustration of the fact, again and again repeated in this book, that the skeleton of the whale furnishes but little clue to the shape of his fully invested body. So Owen rechristened the monster Zeuglodon; and in his paper read before the London Geological Society, pronounced it, in substance, one of the most extraordinary creatures which the mutations of the globe have blotted out of existence.

When I stand among these mighty Leviathan skeletons, skulls, tusks, jaws, ribs, and vertebrae, all characterized by partial resemblances to the existing breeds of sea-monsters; but at the same time bearing on the other hand similar affinities to the annihilated antichronical Leviathans, their incalculable seniors; I am, by a flood, borne back to that wondrous period, ere time itself can be said to have begun; for time began with man. Here Saturn's grey chaos rolls over me, and I obtain dim, shuddering glimpses into those Polar eternities; when wedged bastions of ice pressed hard upon what are now the Tropics; and in all the 25,000 miles of this world's circumference, not an inhabitable hand's breadth of land was visible. Then the whole world was the whale's; and, king of creation, he left his wake along the present lines of the Andes and the Himmalehs. Who can show a pedigree like Leviathan? Ahab's harpoon had shed older blood than the Pharaoh's. Methuselah seems a school-boy. I look round to shake hands with Shem. I am horror-struck at this antemosaic, unsourced existence of the unspeakable terrors of the whale, which, having been before all time, must needs exist after all humane ages are over.

But not alone has this Leviathan left his pre-adamite traces in the stereotype plates of nature, and in limestone and marl bequeathed his ancient bust; but upon Egyptian tablets, whose antiquity seems to claim for them an almost fossiliferous character, we find the unmistakable print of his fin. In an apartment of the great temple of Denderah, some fifty years ago, there was discovered upon the granite ceiling a sculptured and painted planisphere, abounding in centaurs, griffins, and dolphins, similar to the grotesque figures on the celestial globe of the moderns. Gliding among them, old Leviathan swam as of yore; was there swimming in that planisphere, centuries before Solomon was cradled.


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Nor must there be omitted another strange attestation of the antiquity of the whale, in his own osseous post-diluvian reality, as set down by the venerable John Leo, the old Barbary traveller.

'Not far from the Sea-side, they have a Temple, the Rafters and Beams of which are made of Whale-Bones; for Whales of a monstrous size are oftentimes cast up dead upon that shore. The Common People imagine, that by a secret Power bestowed by God upon the Temple, no Whale can pass it without immediate death. But the truth of the Matter is, that on either side of the Temple, there are Rocks that shoot two Miles into the Sea, and wound the Whales when they light upon 'em. They keep a Whale's Rib of an incredible length for a Miracle, which lying upon the Ground with its convex part uppermost, makes an Arch, the Head of which cannot be reached by a Man upon a Camel's Back. This Rib (says John Leo) is said to have layn there a hundred Years before I saw it. Their Historians affirm, that a Prophet who prophesy'd of Mahomet, came from this Temple, and some do not stand to assert, that the Prophet Jonas was cast forth by the Whale at the Base of the Temple.'

In this Afric Temple of the Whale I leave you, reader, and if you be a Nantucketer, and a whaleman, you will silently worship there.



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Chapter cv
DOES THE WHALE'S MAGNITUDE DIMINISH? -- WILL HE PERISH?

Inasmuch, then, as this Leviathan comes floundering down upon us from the head-waters of the Eternities, it may be fitly inquired, whether, in the long course of his generations, he has not degenerated from the original bulk of his sires.

But upon investigation we find, that not only are the whales of the present day superior in magnitude to those whose fossil remains are found in the Tertiary system (embracing a distinct geological period prior to man), but of the whales found in that


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Tertiary system, those belonging to its latter formations exceed in size those of its earlier ones.

Of all the pre- adamite whales yet exhumed, by far the largest is the Alabama one mentioned in the last chapter, and that was less than seventy feet in length in the skeleton. Whereas, we have already seen, that the tape-measure gives seventy-two feet for the skeleton of a large sized modern whale. And I have heard, on whalemen's authority, that Sperm Whales have been captured near a hundred feet long at the time of capture.

But may it not be, that while the whales of the present hour are an advance in magnitude upon those of all previous geological periods; may it not be, that since Adam's time they have degenerated?

Assuredly, we must conclude so, if we are to credit the accounts of such gentlemen as Pliny, and the ancient naturalists generally. For Pliny tells us of whales that embraced acres of living bulk, and Aldrovandus of others which measured eight hundred feet in length -- Rope Walks and Thames Tunnels of Whales! And even in the days of Banks and Solander, Cooke's naturalists, we find a Danish member of the Academy of Sciences setting down certain Iceland Whales (reydan-siskur, or Wrinkled Bellies) at one hundred and twenty yards; that is, three hundred and sixty feet. And Lacepede, the French naturalist, in his elaborate history of whales, in the very beginning of his work (page 3), sets down the Right Whale at one hundred metres, three hundred and twenty-eight feet. And this work was published so late as A. D. 1825.

But will any whaleman believe these stories? No. The whale of to-day is as big as his ancestors in Pliny's time. And if ever I go where Pliny is, I, a whaleman (more than he was), will make bold to tell him so. Because I cannot understand how it is, that while the Egyptian mummies that were buried thousands of years before even Pliny was born, do not measure so much in their coffins as a modern Kentuckian in his socks; and while the cattle and other animals sculptured on the oldest Egyptian and Nineveh tablets, by the relative proportions in which they are drawn, just as plainly prove that the high-bred, stall-fed, prize cattle of Smithfield, not only equal, but far exceed in magnitude the fattest of Pharaoh's fat kine; in the face of


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all this, I will not admit that of all animals the whale alone should have degenerated.

But still another inquiry remains; one often agitated by the more recondite Nantucketers. Whether owing to the almost omniscient look-outs at the mast-heads of the whale-ships, now penetrating even through Behring's straits, and into the remotest secret drawers and lockers of the world; and the thousand harpoons and lances darted along all continental coasts; the moot point is, whether Leviathan can long endure so wide a chase, and so remorseless a havoc; whether he must not at last be exterminated from the waters, and the last whale, like the last man, smoke his last pipe, and then himself evaporate in the final puff.

Comparing the humped herds of whales with the humped herds of buffalo, which, not forty years ago, overspread by tens of thousands the prairies of Illinois and Missouri, and shook their iron manes and scowled with their thunder-clotted brows upon the sites of populous river- capitals, where now the polite broker sells you land at a dollar an inch; in such a comparison an irresistible argument would seem furnished, to show that the hunted whale cannot now escape speedy extinction.

But you must look at this matter in every light. Though so short a period ago -- not a good life-time -- the census of the buffalo in Illinois exceeded the census of men now in London, and though at the present day not one horn or hoof of them remains in all that region; and though the cause of this wondrous extermination was the spear of man; yet the far different nature of the whale-hunt peremptorily forbids so inglorious an end to the Leviathan. Forty men in one ship hunting the Sperm Whale for forty-eight months think they have done extremely well, and thank God, if at last they carry home the oil of forty fish. Whereas, in the days of the old Canadian and Indian hunters and trappers of the West, when the far west (in whose sunset suns still rise) was a wilderness and a virgin, the same number of moccasined men, for the same number of months, mounted on horse instead of sailing in ships, would have slain not forty, but forty thousand and more buffaloes; a fact that, if need were, could be statistically stated.

Nor, considered aright, does it seem any argument in favor


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of the gradual extinction of the Sperm Whale, for example, that in former years (the latter part of the last century, say) these Leviathans, in small pods, were encountered much oftener than at present, and, in consequence, the voyages were not so prolonged, and were also much more remunerative. Because, as has been elsewhere noticed, those whales, influenced by some views to safety, now swim the seas in immense caravans, so that to a large degree the scattered solitaries, yokes, and pods, and schools of other days are now aggregated into vast but widely separated, unfrequent armies. That is all. And equally fallacious seems the conceit, that because the so-called whale-bone whales no longer haunt many grounds in former years abounding with them, hence that species also is declining. For they are only being driven from promontory to cape; and if one coast is no longer enlivened with their jets, then, be sure, some other and remoter strand has been very recently startled by the unfamiliar spectacle.

Furthermore: concerning these last mentioned Leviathans, they have two firm fortresses, which, in all human probability, will for ever remain impregnable. And as upon the invasion of their valleys, the frosty Swiss have retreated to their mountains; so, hunted from the savannas and glades of the middle seas, the whale-bone whales can at last resort to their Polar citadels, and diving under the ultimate glassy barriers and walls there, come up among icy fields and floes; and in a charmed circle of everlasting December, bid defiance to all pursuit from man.

But as perhaps fifty of these whale-bone whales are harpooned for one cachalot, some philosophers of the forecastle have concluded that this positive havoc has already very seriously diminished their battalions. But though for some time past a number of these whales, not less than 13,000 have been annually slain on the nor' west coast by the Americans alone; yet there are considerations which render even this circumstance of little or no account as an opposing argument in this matter.

Natural as it is to be somewhat incredulous concerning the populousness of the more enormous creatures of the globe, yet what shall we say to Harto, the historian of Goa, when he tells us that at one hunting the King of Siam took 4000 elephants;


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that in those regions elephants are numerous as droves of cattle in the temperate climes. And there seems no reason to doubt that if these elephants, which have now been hunted for thousands of years, by Semiramis, by Porus, by hannibal, and by all the successive monarchs of the East -- if they still survive there in great numbers, much more may the great whale outlast all hunting, since he has a pasture to expatiate in, which is precisely twice as large as all Asia, both Americas, Europe and Africa, New Holland, and all the Isles of the sea combined.

Moreover: we are to consider, that from the presumed great longevity of whales, their probably attaining the age of a century and more, therefore at any one period of time, several distinct adult generations must be contemporary. And what that is, we may soon gain some idea of, by imagining all the grave-yards, cemeteries, and family vaults of creation yielding up the live bodies of all the men, women, and children who were alive seventy-five years ago; and adding this countless host to the present human population of the globe.

Wherefore, for all these things, we account the whale immortal in his species, however perishable in his individuality. He swam the seas before the continents broke water; he once swam over the site of the Tuileries, and Windsor Castle, and the Kremlin. In Noah's flood, he despised Noah's Ark; and if ever the world is to be again flooded, like the Netherlands, to kill off its rats, then the eternal whale will still survive, and rearing upon the topmost crest of the equatorial flood, spout his frothed defiance to the skies.



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Chapter cvi
AHAB'S LEG

The precipitating manner in which Captain Ahab had quitted the Samuel Enderby of London, had not been unattended with some small violence to his own person. He had lighted with such energy upon a thwart of his boat that his ivory leg had


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received a half-splintering shock. And when after gaining his own deck, and his own pivot-hole there, he so vehemently wheeled round with an urgent command to the steersman (it was, as ever, something about his not steering inflexibly enough); then, the already shaken ivory received such an additional twist and wrench, that though it still remained entire, and to all appearances lusty, yet Ahab did not deem it entirely trustworthy.

And, indeed, it seemed small matter for wonder, that for all his pervading, mad recklessness, Ahab did at times give careful heed to the condition of that dead bone upon which he partly stood. For it had not been very long prior to the Pequod's sailing from Nantucket, that he had been found one night lying prone upon the ground, and insensible; by some unknown, and seemingly inexplicable, unimaginable casualty, his ivory limb having been so violently displaced, that it had stake-wise smitten, and all but pierced his groin; nor was it without extreme difficulty that the agonizing wound was entirely cured.

Nor, at the time, had it failed to enter his monomaniac mind, that all the anguish of that then present suffering was but the direct issue of a former woe; and he too plainly seemed to see, that as the most poisonous reptile of the marsh perpetuates his kind as inevitably as the sweetest songster of the grove; so, equally with every felicity, all miserable events do naturally beget their like. Yea, more than equally, thought Ahab; since both the ancestry and posterity of Grief go further than the ancestry and posterity of Joy. For, not to hint of this: that it is an inference from certain canonic teachings, that while some natural enjoyments here shall have no children born to them for the other world, but, on the contrary, shall be followed by the joy-childlessness of all hell's despair; whereas, some guilty mortal miseries shall still fertilely beget to themselves an eternally progressive progeny of griefs beyond the grave; not at all to hint of this, there still seems an inequality in the deeper analysis of the thing. For, thought Ahab, while even the highest earthly felicities ever have a certain unsignifying pettiness lurking in them, but, at bottom, all heart-woes, a mystic significance, and, in some men, an archangelic grandeur; so do their diligent tracings-out not belie the obvious deduction. To trail the genealogies


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of these high mortal miseries, carries us at last among the sourceless primogenitures of the gods; so that, in the face of all the glad, hay-making suns, and soft-cymballing, round harvest- moons, we must needs give in to this: that the gods themselves are not for ever glad. The ineffaceable, sad birth-mark in the brow of man, is but the stamp of sorrow in the signers.

Unwittingly here a secret has been divulged, which perhaps might more properly, in set way, have been disclosed before. With many other particulars concerning Ahab, always had it remained a mystery to some, why it was, that for a certain period, both before and after the sailing of the Pequod, he had hidden himself away with such Grand-Lama-like exclusiveness; and, for that one interval, sought speechless refuge, as it were, among the marble senate of the dead. Captain Peleg's bruited reason for this thing appeared by no means adequate; though, indeed, as touching all Ahab's deeper part, every revelation partook more of significant darkness than of explanatory light. But, in the end, it all came out; this one matter did, at least. That direful mishap was at the bottom of his temporary recluseness. And not only this, but to that ever-contracting, dropping circle ashore, who, for any reason, possessed the privilege of a less banned approach to him; to that timid circle the above hinted casualty -- remaining, as it did, moodily unaccounted for by Ahab -- invested itself with terrors, not entirely underived from the land of spirits and of wails. So that, through their zeal for him, they had all conspired, so far as in them lay, to muffle up the knowledge of this thing from others; and hence it was, that not till a considerable interval had elapsed, did it transpire upon the Pequod's decks.

But be all this as it may; let the unseen, ambiguous synod in the air, or the vindictive princes and potentates of fire, have to do or not with earthly Ahab, yet, in this present matter of his leg, he took plain practical procedures; -- he called the carpenter.

And when that functionary appeared before him, he bade him without delay set about making a new leg, and directed the mates to see him supplied with all the studs and joists of jaw-ivory (Sperm Whale) which had thus far been accumulated


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on the voyage, in order that a careful selection of the stoutest, clearest-grained stuff might be secured. This done, the carpenter received orders to have the leg completed that night; and to provide all the fittings for it, independent of those pertaining to the distrusted one in use. Moreover, the ship's forge was ordered to be hoisted out of its temporary idleness in the hold; and, to accelerate the affair, the blacksmith was commanded to proceed at once to the forging of whatever iron contrivances might be needed.




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Chapter cvii
THE CARPENTER

Seat thyself sultanically among the moons of Saturn, and take high abstracted man alone; and he seems a wonder, a grandeur, and a woe. But from the same point, take mankind in mass, and for the most part, they seem a mob of unnecessary duplicates, both contemporary and hereditary. But most humble though he was, and far from furnishing an example of the high, humane abstraction; the Pequod's carpenter was no duplicate; hence, he now comes in person on this stage.

Like all sea-going ship carpenters, and more especially those belonging to whaling vessels, he was, to a certain off-handed, practical extent, alike experienced in numerous trades and callings collateral to his own; the carpenter's pursuit being the ancient and outbranching trunk of all those numerous handicrafts which more or less have to do with wood as an auxiliary material. but, besides the application to him of the generic remark above, this carpenter of the Pequod was singularly efficient in those thousand nameless mechanical emergencies continually recurring in a large ship, upon a three or four years' voyage, in uncivilized and far- distant seas. For not to speak of his readiness in ordinary duties: -- repairing stove boats, sprung spars, reforming the shape of clumsy-bladed oars, inserting bull's


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eyes in the deck, or new tree-nails in the side planks, and other miscellaneous matters more directly pertaining to his special business; he was moreover unhesitatingly expert in all manner of conflicting aptitudes, both useful and capricious.

The one grand stage where he enacted all his various parts so manifold, was his vice-bench; a long rude ponderous table furnished with several vices, of different sizes, and both of iron and of wood. At all times except when whales were alongside, this bench was securely lashed athwartships against the rear of the try-works.

A belaying pin is found too large to be easily inserted into its hole: the carpenter claps it into one of his ever-ready vices, and straightway files it smaller. A lost land-bird of strange plumage strays on board, and is made a captive: out of clean shaved rods of right-whale bone, and cross- beams of sperm whale ivory, the carpenter makes a pagoda-looking cage for it. An oarsman sprains his wrist: the carpenter concocts a soothing lotion. Stubb longed for vermillion stars to be painted upon the blade of his every oar; screwing each oar in his big vice of wood, the carpenter symmetrically supplies the constellation. A sailor takes a fancy to wear shark-bone ear- rings: the carpenter drills his ears. Another has the toothache: the carpenter out pincers, and clapping one hand upon his bench bids him be seated there; but the poor fellow unmanageably winces under the unconcluded operation; whirling round the handle of his wooden vice, the carpenter signs him to clap his jaw in that, if he would have him draw the tooth.

Thus, this carpenter was prepared at all points, and alike indifferent and without respect in all. Teeth he accounted bits of ivory; heads he deemed but top-blocks; men themselves he lightly held for capstans. But while now upon so wide a field thus variously accomplished, and with such liveliness of expertness in him, too; all this would seem to argue some uncommon vivacity of intelligence. But not precisely so. For nothing was this man more remarkable, than for a certain impersonal stolidity as it were; impersonal, I say; for it so shaded off into the surrounding infinite of things, that it seemed one with the general stolidity discernible in the whole visible world; which while


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pauselessly active in uncounted modes, still eternally holds its peace, and ignores you, though you dig foundations for cathedrals. Yet was this half-horrible stolidity in him, involving, too, as it appeared, an all-ramifying heartlessness; -- yet was it oddly dashed at times, with an old, crutch-like, antediluvian, wheezing humorousness, not unstreaked now and then with a certain grizzled wittiness; such as might have served to pass the time during the midnight watch on the bearded forecastle of Noah's ark. Was it that this old carpenter had been a life-long wanderer, whose much rolling, to and fro, not only had gathered no moss; but what is more, had rubbed off whatever small outward clingings might have originally pertained to him? He was a stript abstract; an unfractioned integral; uncompromised as a new-born babe; living without premeditated reference to this world or the next. You might almost say, that this strange uncompromisedness in him involved a sort of unintelligence; for in his numerous trades, he did not seem to work so much by reason or by instinct, or simply because he had been tutored to it, or by any intermixture of all these, even or uneven; but merely by a kind of deaf and dumb, spontaneous literal process. He was a pure manipulator; his brain, if he had ever had one, must have early oozed along into the muscles of his fingers. He was like one of those unreasoning but still highly useful, multum in parvo, Sheffield contrivances, assuming the exterior -- though a little swelled -- of a common pocket knife; but containing, not only blades of various sizes, but also screw-drivers, cork-screws, tweezers, awls, pens, rulers, nail-filers, counter-sinkers. So, if his superiors wanted to use the carpenter for a screw-driver, all they had to do was to open that part of him, and the screw was fast: or if for tweezers, take him up by the legs, and there they were.

Yet, as previously hinted, this omnitooled, open-and-shut carpenter, was, after all, no mere machine of an automaton. If he did not have a common soul in him, he had a subtle something that somehow anomalously did its duty. What that was, whether essence of quicksilver, or a few drops of hartshorn, there is no telling. But there it was; and there it had abided for now some sixty years or more. And this it was, this same


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unaccountable, cunning life-principle in him; this it was, that kept him a great part of the time soliloquizing; but only like an unreasoning wheel, which also hummingly soliloquizes; or rather, his body was a sentry-box and this soliloquizer on guard there, and talking all the time to keep himself awake.




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Chapter cviii
AHAB AND THE CARPENTER

THE DECK -- FIRST NIGHT WATCH Carpenter standing before his vice-bench, and by the light of two lanterns busily filing the ivory joist for the leg, which joist is firmly fixed in the vice. Slabs of ivory, leather straps, pads, screws, and various tools of all sorts lying about the bench. Forward, the red flame of the forge is seen, where the blacksmith is at work.

Drat the file, and drat the bone! That is hard which should be soft, and that soft which should be hard. So we go, who file old jaws and shinbones. Let's try another. Aye, now, this works better (sneezes). Halloa, this bone dust is (sneezes) -- why it's (sneezes) -- yes it's (sneezes) -- bless my soul, it won't let me speak! This is what an old fellow gets now for working in dead lumber. Saw a live tree, and you don't get this dust; amputate a live bone, and you don't get it (sneezes). Come, come, you old Smut, there, bear a hand, and let's have that ferule and buckle-screw; I'll be ready for them presently. Lucky now (sneezes) there's no knee-joint to make; that might puzzle a little; but a mere shinbone -- why it's easy as making hop-poles; only I should like to put a good finish on. Time, time; if I but only had the time, I could turn him out as neat a leg now as ever (sneezes) scraped to a lady in a parlor. Those buckskin legs and calves of legs I've seen in shop windows wouldn't compare at all. They soak water, they do; and of


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course get rheumatic, and have to be doctored (sneezes) with washes and lotions, just like live legs. There; before I saw it off, now, I must call his old Mogulship, and see whether the length will be all right; too short, if anything, I guess. Ha! that's the heel; we are in luck; here he comes, or it's somebody else, that's certain.

Ahab Advancing During the ensuing scene, the carpenter continues sneezing at times.

Well, manmaker!

Just in time, Sir. If the captain pleases, I will now mark the length. Let me measure, Sir.

Measured for a leg! good. Well, it's not the first time. About it! There; keep thy finger on it. This is a cogent vice thou hast here, carpenter; let me feel its grip once. so, so; it does pinch some.

Oh, Sir, it will break bones -- beware, beware!

No fear; I like a good grip; I like to feel something in this slippery world that can hold, man. What's Prometheus about there? -- the blacksmith, I mean -- what's he about?

He must be forging the buckle- screw, Sir, now.

Right. It's a partnership; he supplies the muscle part. He makes a fierce red flame there!

Aye, Sir; he must have the white heat for this kind of fine work.

Um-um. So he must. I do deem it now a most meaning thing, that that old Greek, Prometheus, who made men, they say, should have been a blacksmith, and animated them with fire; for what's made in fire must properly belong to fire; and so hell's probable. How the soot flies! This must be the remainder the Greek made the Africans of. Carpenter, when he's through with that buckle, tell him to forge a pair of steel shoulder-blades; there's a pedlar aboard with a crushing pack.

Sir?

Hold; while Prometheus is about it, I'll order a complete man after a desirable pattern. Imprimis, fifty feet high in his socks; then, chest modelled after the Thames Tunnel; then, legs with roots to 'em, to stay in one place; then, arms three


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feet through the wrist; no heart at all, brass forehead, and about a quarter of an acre of fine brains; and let me see -- shall I order eyes to see outwards? No, but put a sky-light on top of his head to illuminate inwards. There, take the order, and away.

Now, what's he speaking about, and who's he speaking to, I should like to know? Shall I keep standing here? (Aside)

'Tis but indifferent architecture to make a blind dome; here's one. No, no, no; I must have a lantern.

Ho, ho! That's it, hey? Here are two, Sir; one will serve my turn.

What art thou thrusting that thief-catcher into my face for, man? thrusted light is worse than presented pistols.

I thought, Sir, that you spoke to carpenter.

Carpenter? why that's -- but no; -- a very tidy, and, I may say, an extremely gentlemanlike sort of business thou art in here, carpenter; -- or would'st thou rather work in clay?

Sir? -- Clay? clay, Sir? That's mud; we leave clay to ditchers, Sir.

The fellow's impious! What art thou sneezing about?

Bone is rather dusty, Sir.

Take the hint, then; and when thou art dead, never bury thyself under living people's noses.

Sir? -- oh! ah! -- I guess so; so; -- yes, yes -- oh dear!

Look ye, carpenter, I dare say thou callest thyself a right good workmanlike workman, eh! Well, then, will it speak thoroughly well for thy work, if, when I come to mount this leg thou makest, I shall nevertheless feel another leg in the same identical place with it; that is, carpenter, my old lost leg; the flesh and blood one, I mean. Canst thou not drive that old Adam away?

Truly, Sir, I begin to understand somewhat now. Yes, I have heard something curious on that score, Sir; how that a dismasted man never entirely loses the feeling of his old spar, but it will be still pricking him at times. May I humbly ask if it be really so, Sir?

It is, man. Look, put thy live leg here in the place where mine once was; so, now, here is only one distinct leg to the eye,


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yet two to the soul. Where thou feelest tingling life; there, exactly there, there to a hair, do I. Is't a riddle?

I should humbly call it a poser, Sir.

Hist, then. How dost thou know that some entire, living, thinking thing may not be invisibly and uninterpenetratingly standing precisely where thou now standest; aye, and standing there in thy spite? In thy most solitary hours, then, dost thou not fear eavesdroppers? Hold, don't speak! And if I still feel the smart of my crushed leg, though it be now so long dissolved; then, why mayest not thou, carpenter, feel the fiery pains of hell for ever, and without a body? Hah!

Good Lord! Truly, Sir, if it comes to that, I must calculate over again; I think I didn't carry a small figure, Sir.

Look ye, pudding-heads should never grant premises. -- How long before this leg is done?

Perhaps an hour, Sir.

Bungle away at it then, and bring it to me (turns to go). Oh, Life! Here I am, proud as Greek god, and yet standing debtor to this blockhead for a bone to stand on! Cursed be that mortal inter-indebtedness which will not do away with ledgers. I would be free as air; and I'm down in the whole world's books. I am so rich, I could have given bid for bid with the wealthiest Praetorians at the auction of the Roman empire (which was the world's); and yet I owe for the flesh in the tongue I brag with. By heavens! I'll get a crucible, and into it, and dissolve myself down to one small, compendious vertebra. So.

Carpenter Resuming his work

Well, well, well! Stubb knows him best of all, and Stubb always says he's queer; says nothing but that one sufficient little word queer; he's queer, says Stubb; he's queer -- queer, queer; and keeps dinning it into Mr. Starbuck all the time -- queer, Sir -- queer, queer, very queer. And here's his leg! Yes, now that I think of it, here's his bedfellow! has a stick of whale's jaw-bone for a wife! And this is his leg; he'll stand on this. What was that now about one leg standing in three places, and all three places standing in one hell -- how was that? Oh! I don't wonder he looked so scornful at me! I'm a sort of strange- thoughted


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sometimes, they say; but that's only haphazard-like. Then, a short, little old body like me, should never undertake to wade out into deep waters with tall, heron-built captains; the water chucks you under the chin pretty quick, and there's a great cry for life- boats. And here's the heron's leg! long and slim, sure enough! Now, for most folks one pair of legs lasts a lifetime, and that must be because they use them mercifully, as a tender-hearted old lady uses her roly-poly old coach-horses. But Ahab; oh he's a hard driver. Look, driven one leg to death, and spavined the other for life, and now wears out bone legs by the cord. Halloa, there, you Smut! bear a hand there with those screws, and let's finish it before the resurrection fellow comes a-calling with his horn for all legs, true or false, as brewery-men go round collecting old beer barrels, to fill 'em up again. What a leg this is! It looks like a real live leg, filed down to nothing but the core; he'll be standing on this to-morrow; he'll be taking altitudes on it. Halloa! I almost forgot the little oval slate, smoothed ivory, where he figures up the latitude. So, so; chisel, file, and sand- paper, now!




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Chapter cix
AHAB AND STARBUCK IN THE CABIN

According to usage they were pumping the ship next morning; and lo! no inconsiderable oil came up with the water; the casks below must have sprung a bad leak. Much concern was shown; and Starbuck went down into the cabin to report this unfavorable affair.


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Now, from the South and West the Pequod was drawing nigh to Formosa and the Bashee Isles, between which lies one of the tropical outlets from the China waters into the Pacific. And so Starbuck found Ahab with a general chart of the oriental archipelagoes spread before him; and another separate one representing the long eastern coasts of the Japanese islands -- Niphon, Matsmai, and Sikoke. With his snow-white new ivory leg braced against the screwed leg of his table, and with a long pruning-hook of a jack-knife in his hand, the wondrous old man, with his back to the gangway door, was wrinkling his brow, and tracing his old courses again.

'Who's there?' hearing the footstep at the door, but not turning round to it. 'On deck! Begone!'

'Captain Ahab mistakes; it is I. The oil in the hold is leaking, Sir. We must up Burtons and break out.'

'Up Burtons and break out? Now that we are nearing Japan; heave-to here for a week to tinker a parcel of old hoops?'

'Either do that, Sir, or waste in one day more oil than we may make good in a year. What we come twenty thousand miles to get is worth saving, Sir.'

'So it is, so it is; if we get it.'

'I was speaking of the oil in the hold, Sir.'

'And I was not speaking or thinking of that at all. Begone! Let it leak! I'm all aleak myself. Aye! leaks in leaks! not only full of leaky casks, but those leaky casks are in a leaky ship; and that's a far worse plight than the Pequod's, man. Yet I don't stop to plug my leak; for who can find it in the deep-loaded hull; or how hope to plug it, even if found, in this life's howling gale? Starbuck! I'll not have the Burtons hoisted.'

'What will the owners say, Sir?'

'Let the owners stand on Nantucket beach and outyell the Typhoons. What cares Ahab? Owners, owners? Thou art always prating to me, Starbuck, about those miserly owners, as if the owners were my conscience. But look ye, the only real owner of anything is its commander; and hark ye, my conscience is in this ship's keel. -- On deck!'

'Captain Ahab,' said the reddening mate, moving further into the cabin, with a daring so strangely respectful and cautious that


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it almost seemed not only every way seeking to avoid the slightest outward manifestation of itself, but within also seemed more than half distrustful of itself; 'A better man than I might well pass over in thee what he would quickly enough resent in a younger man; aye! and in a happier, Captain Ahab.'

'Devils! Dost thou then so much as dare to critically think of me? -- On deck!'

'Nay, Sir, not yet; I do entreat. And I do dare, Sir -- to be forbearing! Shall we not understand each other better than hitherto, Captain Ahab?'

Ahab seized a loaded musket from the rack (forming part of most South-Sea-men's cabin furniture), and pointing it towards Starbuck, exclaimed: 'There is one God that is Lord over the earth, and one Captain that is lord over the Pequod. -- On deck!'

For an instant in the flashing eyes of the mate, and his fiery cheeks, you would have almost thought that he had really received the blaze of the levelled tube. But, mastering his emotion, he half calmly rose, and as he quitted the cabin, paused for an instant and said: 'Thou hast outraged, not insulted me, Sir; but for that I ask thee not to beware of Starbuck; thou wouldst but laugh; but let Ahab beware of Ahab; beware of thyself, old man.'

'He waxes brave, but nevertheless obeys; most careful bravery that!' murmured Ahab, as Starbuck disappeared. 'What's that he said -- Ahab beware of Ahab -- there's something there!' Then unconsciously using the musket for a staff, with an iron brow he paced to and fro in the little cabin; but presently the thick plaits of his forehead relaxed, and returning the gun to the rack, he went to the deck.

'Thou art but too good a fellow, Starbuck,' he said lowly to the mate; then raising his voice to the crew: 'Furl the t'gallant-sails and close-reef the top-sails, fore and aft; back the main-yard; up Burtons, and break out in the main- hold.'

It were perhaps vain to surmise exactly why it was, that as respecting Starbuck, Ahab thus acted. It may have been a flash of honesty in him; or mere prudential policy which, under the circumstance, imperiously forbade the slightest symptom of open disaffection, however transient, in the important chief


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officer of his ship. However it was, his orders were executed; and the Burtons were hoisted.


Note: In Sperm-whalemen with any considerable quantity of oil on board, it is a regular semi-weekly duty to conduct a hose into the hold, and drench the casks with sea-water; which afterwards, at varying intervals, is removed by the ship's pumps. Hereby the casks are sought to be kept damply tight; while by the changed character of the withdrawn water, the mariners readily detect any serious leakage in the precious cargo.


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Chapter cx
QUEEQUEG IN HIS COFFIN

Upon searching, it was found that the casks last struck into the hold were perfectly sound, and that the leak must be further off. So, it being calm weather, they broke out deeper and deeper, disturbing the slumbers of the huge ground-tier butts; and from that black midnight sending those gigantic moles into the daylight above. So deep did they go; and so ancient, and corroded, and weedy the aspect of the lowermost puncheons, that you almost looked next for some mouldy corner-stone cask containing coins of Captain Noah, with copies of the posted placards, vainly warning the infatuated old world from the flood. Tierce after tierce, too, of water, and bread, and beef, and shooks of staves, and iron bundles of hoops, were hoisted out, till at last the piled decks were hard to get about; and the hollow hull echoed under foot, as if you were treading over empty catacombs, and reeled and rolled in the sea like an air-freighted demijohn. Top-heavy was the ship as a dinnerless student with all Aristotle in his head. Well was it that the Typhoons did not visit them then.

Now, at this time it was that my poor pagan companion, and fast bosom-friend, Queequeg, was seized with a fever, which brought him nigh to his endless end.

Be it said, that in this vocation of whaling, sinecures are unknown; dignity and danger go hand in hand; till you get to be Captain, the higher you rise the harder you toil. So with poor Queequeg, who, as harpooneer, must not only face all the rage of the living whale, but -- as we have elsewhere seen -- mount his dead back in a rolling sea; and finally descend into the gloom of the hold, and bitterly sweating all day in that


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subterraneous confinement, resolutely manhandle the clumsiest casks and see to their stowage. To be short, among whalemen, the harpooneers are the holders, so called.

Poor Queequeg! when the ship was about half disembowelled, you should have stooped over the hatchway, and peered down upon him there; where, stripped to his woollen drawers, the tattooed savage was crawling about amid that dampness and slime, like a green spotted lizard at the bottom of a well. And a well, or an ice-house, it somehow proved to him, poor pagan; where, strange to say, for all the heat of his sweatings, he caught a terrible chill which lapsed into a fever; and at last, after some days' suffering, laid him in his hammock, close to the very sill of the door of death. How he wasted and wasted away in those few long-lingering days, till there seemed but little left of him but his frame and tattooing. But as all else in him thinned, and his cheek-bones grew sharper, his eyes, nevertheless, seemed growing fuller and fuller; they became of a strange softness of lustre; and mildly but deeply looked out at you there from his sickness, a wondrous testimony to that immortal health in him which could not die, or be weakened. And like circles on the water, which, as they grow fainter, expand; so his eyes seemed rounding and rounding, like the rings of Eternity. An awe that cannot be named would steal over you as you sat by the side of this waning savage, and saw as strange things in his face, as any beheld who were bystanders when Zoroaster died. For whatever is truly wondrous and fearful in man, never yet was put into words or books. And the drawing near of Death, which alike levels all, alike impresses all with a last revelation, which only an author from the dead could adequately tell. So that -- let us say it again -- no dying Chaldee or Greek had higher and holier thoughts than those, whose mysterious shades you saw creeping over the face of poor Queequeg, as he quietly lay in his swaying hammock, and the rolling sea seemed gently rocking him to his final rest, and the ocean's invisible flood-tide lifted him higher and higher towards his destined heaven.

Not a man of the crew but gave him up; and, as for Queequeg himself, what he thought of his case was forcibly shown by a curious favor he asked. He called one to him in the grey


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morning watch, when the day was just breaking, and taking his hand, said that while in Nantucket he had chanced to see certain little canoes of dark wood, like the rich war-wood of his native isle; and upon inquiry, he had learned that all whalemen who died in Nantucket, were laid in those same dark canoes, and that the fancy of being so laid had much pleased him; for it was not unlike the custom of his own race, who, after embalming a dead warrior, stretched him out in his canoe, and so left him to be floated away to the starry archipelagoes; for not only do they believe that the stars are isles, but that far beyond all visible horizons, their own mild, uncontinented seas, interflow with the blue heavens; and so form the white breakers of the milky way. He added, that he shuddered at the thought of being buried in his hammock, according to the usual sea-custom, tossed like something vile to the death- devouring sharks. No: he desired a canoe like those of Nantucket, all the more congenial to him, being a whaleman, that like a whale-boat these coffin-canoes were without a keel; though that involved but uncertain steering, and much lee-way adown the dim ages.

Now, when this strange circumstance was made known aft, the carpenter was at once commanded to do Queequeg's bidding, whatever it might include. There was some heathenish, coffin-colored old lumber aboard, which, upon a long previous voyage, had been cut from the aboriginal groves of the Lackaday islands, and from these dark planks the coffin was recommended to be made. No sooner was the carpenter apprised of the order, than taking his rule, he forthwith with all the indifferent promptitude of his character, proceeded into the forecastle and took Queequeg's measure with great accuracy, regularly chalking Queequeg's person as he shifted the rule.

'Ah! poor fellow! he'll have to die now,' ejaculated the Long Island sailor.

Going to his vice-bench, the carpenter for convenience' sake and general reference, now transferringly measured on it the exact length the coffin was to be, and then made the transfer permanent by cutting two notches at its extremities. This done, he marshalled the planks and his tools, and to work.


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When the last nail was driven, and the lid duly planed and fitted, he lightly shouldered the coffin and went forward with it, inquiring whether they were ready for it yet in that direction.

Overhearing the indignant but half- humorous cries with which the people on deck began to drive the coffin away, Queequeg, to every one's consternation, commanded that the thing should be instantly brought to him, nor was there any denying him; seeing that, of all mortals, some dying men are the most tyrannical; and certainly, since they will shortly trouble us so little for evermore, the poor fellows ought to be indulged.

Leaning over in his hammock, Queequeg long regarded the coffin with an attentive eye. He then called for his harpoon, had the wooden stock drawn from it, and then had the iron part placed in the coffin along with one of the paddles of his boat. All by his own request, also, biscuits were then ranged round the sides within: a flask of fresh water was placed at the head, and a small bag of woody earth scraped up in the hold at the foot; and a piece of sail-cloth being rolled up for a pillow, Queequeg now entreated to be lifted into his final bed, that he might make trial of its comforts, if any it had. He lay without moving a few minutes, then told one to go to his bag and bring out his little god, Yojo. Then crossing his arms on his breast with Yojo between, he called for the coffin lid (hatch he called it) to be placed over him. The head part turned over with a leather hinge, and there lay Queequeg in his coffin with little but his composed countenance in view. Rarmai (it will do; it is easy), he murmured at last, and signed to be replaced in his hammock.

But ere this was done, Pip, who had been slily hovering near by all this while, drew nigh to him where he lay, and with soft sobbings, took him by the hand; in the other, holding his tambourine.

'Poor rover! will ye never have done with all this weary roving? Where go ye now? But if the currents carry ye to those sweet Antilles where the beaches are only beat with water-lilies, will ye do one little errand for me? Seek out one Pip, who's now been missing long: I think he's in those far Antilles. If ye find him, then comfort him; for he must be very sad; for look!


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he's left his tambourine behind; -- I found it. Rig-a-dig, dig, dig! Now, Queequeg, die; and I'll beat ye your dying march.'

'I have heard,' murmured Starbuck, gazing down the scuttle, 'that in violent fevers, men, all ignorance, have talked in ancient tongues; and that when the mystery is probed, it turns out always that in their wholly forgotten childhood those ancient tongues had been really spoken in their hearing by some lofty scholars. So, to my fond faith, poor Pip, in this strange sweetness of his lunacy, brings heavenly vouchers of all our heavenly homes. Where learned he that, but there? -- Hark! he speaks again: but more wildly now.'

'From two and two! Let's make a General of him! Ho, where's his harpoon? Lay it across here. -- Rig-a-dig, dig, dig! huzza! Oh for a game cock now to sit upon his head and crow! Queequeg dies game! -- mind ye that; Queequeg dies game! -- take ye good heed of that; Queequeg dies game! I say; game, game, game! but base little Pip, he died a coward; died all a'shiver; -- out upon Pip! Hark ye; if ye find Pip, tell all the Antilles he's a runaway; a coward, a coward, a coward! Tell them he jumped from a whale-boat! I'd never beat my tambourine over base Pip, and hail him General, if he were once more dying here. No, no! shame upon all cowards -- shame upon them! Let 'em go drown like Pip, that jumped from a whale-boat. Shame! shame!'

During all this, Queequeg lay with closed eyes, as if in a dream. Pip was led away, and the sick man was replaced in his hammock.

But now that he had apparently made every preparation for death; now that his coffin was proved a good fit, Queequeg suddenly rallied; soon there seemed no need of the carpenter's box: and thereupon, when some expressed their delighted surprise, he, in substance, said, that the cause of his sudden convalescence was this; -- at a critical moment, he had just recalled a little duty ashore, which he was leaving undone; and therefore had changed his mind about dying: he could not die yet, he averred. They asked him, then, whether to live or die was a matter of his own sovereign will and pleasure. He answered, certainly. In a word, it was Queequeg's conceit, that if a man


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made up his mind to live, mere sickness could not kill him: nothing but a whale, or a gale, or some violent, ungovernable, unintelligent destroyer of that sort.

Now, there is this noteworthy difference between savage and civilized; that while a sick, civilized man may be six months convalescing, generally speaking, a sick savage is almost half-well again in a day. So, in good time my Queequeg gained strength; and at length after sitting on the windlass for a few indolent days (but eating with a vigorous appetite) he suddenly leaped to his feet, threw out arms and legs, gave himself a good stretching, yawned a little bit, and then springing into the head of his hoisted boat, and poising a harpoon, pronounced himself fit for a fight.

With a wild whimsiness, he now used his coffin for a sea- chest; and emptying into it his canvas bag of clothes, set them in order there. Many spare hours he spent, in carving the lid with all manner of grotesque figures and drawings; and it seemed that hereby he was striving, in his rude way, to copy parts of the twisted tattooing on his body. And this tattooing, had been the work of a departed prophet and seer of his island, who, by those hieroglyphic marks, had written out on his body a complete theory of the heavens and the earth, and a mystical treatise on the art of attaining truth; so that Queequeg in his own proper person was a riddle to unfold; a wondrous work in one volume; but whose mysteries not even himself could read, though his own live heart beat against them; and these mysteries were therefore destined in the end to moulder away with the living parchment whereon they were inscribed, and so be unsolved to the last. And this thought it must have been which suggested to Ahab that wild exclamation of his, when one morning turning away from surveying poor Queequeg -- 'Oh, devilish tantalization of the gods!'



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Chapter cxi
THE PACIFIC

When gliding by the Bashee isles we emerged at last upon the great South Sea; were it not for other things, I could have greeted my dear Pacific with uncounted thanks, for now the long supplication of my youth was answered; that serene ocean rolled eastwards from me a thousand leagues of blue.

There is, one knows not what sweet mystery about this sea, whose gently awful stirrings seem to speak of some hidden soul beneath; like those fabled undulations of the Ephesian sod over the buried Evangelist St. John. And meet it is, that over these sea- pastures, wide-rolling watery prairies and Potters' Fields of all four continents, the waves should rise and fall, and ebb and flow unceasingly; for here, millions of mixed shades and shadows, drowned dreams, somnambulisms, reveries; all that we call lives and souls, lie dreaming, dreaming, still; tossing like slumberers in their beds; the ever-rolling waves but made so by their restlessness.

To any meditative Magian rover, this serene Pacific, once beheld, must ever after be the sea of his adoption. It rolls the midmost waters of the world, the Indian ocean and Atlantic being but its arms. The same waves wash the moles of the new-built Californian towns, but yesterday planted by the recentest race of men, and lave the faded but still gorgeous skirts of Asiatic lands, older than Abraham; while all between float milky-ways of coral isles, and low-lying, endless, unknown Archipelagoes, and impenetrable Japans. Thus this mysterious, divine Pacific zones the world's whole bulk about; makes all coasts one bay to it; seems the tide-beating heart of earth. Lifted by those eternal swells, you needs must own the seductive god, bowing your head to Pan.

But few thoughts of Pan stirred Ahab's brain, as standing like an iron statue at his accustomed place beside the mizen


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rigging, with one nostril he unthinkingly snuffed the sugary musk from the Bashee isles (in whose sweet woods mild lovers must be walking), and with the other consciously inhaled the salt breath of the new found sea; that sea in which the hated White Whale must even then be swimming. Launched at length upon these almost final waters, and gliding towards the Japanese cruising-ground, the old man's purpose intensified itself. His firm lips met like the lips of a vice; the Delta of his forehead's veins swelled like overladen brooks; in his very sleep, his ringing cry ran through the vaulted hull, Stern all! the White Whale spouts thick blood!




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Chapter cxii
THE BLACKSMITH

Availing himself of the mild, summer-cool weather that now reigned in these latitudes, and in preparation for the peculiarly active pursuits shortly to be anticipated, Perth, the begrimed, blistered old blacksmith, had not removed his portable forge to the hold again, after concluding his contributory work for Ahab's leg, but still retained it on deck, fast lashed to ringbolts by the foremast; being now almost incessantly invoked by the headsmen, and harpooneers, and bowsmen to do some little job for them; altering, or repairing, or new shaping their various weapons and boat furniture. Often he would be surrounded by an eager circle, all waiting to be served; holding boat-spades, pike- heads, harpoons, and lances, and jealously watching his every sooty movement, as he toiled. Nevertheless, this old man's was a patient hammer wielded by a patient arm. No murmur, no impatience, no petulence did come from him. Silent, slow, and solemn; bowing over still further his chronically broken back, he toiled away, as if toil were life itself, and the heavy beating of his hammer the heavy beating of his heart. And so it was. -- Most miserable!


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A peculiar walk in this old man, a certain slight but painful appearing yawing in his gait, had at an early period of the voyage excited the curiosity of the mariners. And to the importunity of their persisted questionings he had finally given in; and so it came to pass that every one now knew the shameful story of his wretched fate.

Belated, and not innocently, one bitter winter's midnight, on the road running between two country towns, the blacksmith half-stupidly felt the deadly numbness stealing over him, and sought refuge in a leaning, dilapidated barn. The issue was, the loss of the extremities of both feet. Out of this revelation, part by part, at last came out the four acts of the gladness, and the one long, and as yet uncatastrophied fifth act of the grief of his life's drama.

He was an old man, who, at the age of nearly sixty, had postponedly encountered that thing in sorrow's technicals called ruin. He had been an artisan of famed excellence, and with plenty to do; owned a house and garden; embraced a youthful, daughter-like, loving wife, and three blithe, ruddy children; every Sunday went to a cheerful-looking church, planted in a grove. But one night, under cover of darkness, and further concealed in a most cunning disguisement, a desperate burglar slid into his happy home, and robbed them all of everything. And darker yet to tell, the blacksmith himself did ignorantly conduct this burglar into his family's heart. It was the Bottle Conjuror! Upon the opening of that fatal cork, forth flew the fiend, and shrivelled up his home. Now, for prudent, most wise, and economic reasons, the blacksmith's shop was in the basement of his dwelling, but with a separate entrance to it; so that always had the young and loving healthy wife listened with no unhappy nervousness, but with vigorous pleasure, to the stout ringing of her young-armed old husband's hammer; whose reverberations, muffled by passing through the floors and walls, came up to her, not unsweetly, in her nursery; and so, to stout Labor's iron lullaby, the blacksmith's infants were rocked to slumber.

Oh, woe on woe! Oh, Death, why canst thou not sometimes be timely? Hadst thou taken this old blacksmith to thyself ere his full ruin came upon him, then had the young widow had a


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delicious grief, and her orphans a truly venerable, legendary sire to dream of in their after years; and all of them a care-killing competency. But Death plucked down some virtuous elder brother, on whose whistling daily toil solely hung the responsibilities of some other family, and left the worse than useless old man standing, till the hideous rot of life should make him easier to harvest.

Why tell the whole? The blows of the basement hammer every day grew more and more between; and each blow every day grew fainter than the last; the wife sat frozen at the window, with tearless eyes, glitteringly gazing into the weeping faces of her children; the bellows fell; the forge choked up with cinders; the house was sold; the mother dived down into the long church-yard grass; her children twice followed her thither; and the houseless, familyless old man staggered off a vagabond in crape; his every woe unreverenced; his grey head a scorn to flaxen curls!

Death seems the only desirable sequel for a career like this; but Death is only a launching into the region of the strange Untried; it is but the first salutation to the possibilities of the immense Remote, the Wild, the Watery, the Unshored; therefore, to the death-longing eyes of such men, who still have left in them some interior compunctions against suicide, does the all-contributed and all- receptive ocean alluringly spread forth his whole plain of unimaginable, taking terrors, and wonderful, new-life adventures; and from the hearts of infinite Pacifics, the thousand mermaids sing to them -- Come hither, broken-hearted; here is another life without the guilt of intermediate death; here are wonders supernatural, without dying for them. Come hither! bury thyself in a life which, to your now equally abhorred and abhorring, landed world, is more oblivious than death. Come hither! put up thy grave-stone, too, within the churchyard, and come hither, till we marry thee!

Hearkening to these voices, East and West, by early sun-rise, and by fall of eve, the blacksmith's soul responded, Aye, I come! And so Perth went a-whaling.



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Chapter cxiii
THE FORGE

With matted beard, and swathed in a bristling shark- skin apron, about mid-day, Perth was standing between his forge and anvil, the latter placed upon an iron-wood log, with one hand holding a pike-head in the coals, and with the other at his forge's lungs, when Captain Ahab came along, carrying in his hand a small rusty-looking leathern bag. While yet a little distance from the forge, moody Ahab paused; till at last, Perth, withdrawing his iron from the fire, began hammering it upon the anvil -- the red mass sending off the sparks in thick hovering flights, some of which flew close to Ahab.

'Are these thy Mother Carey's chickens, Perth? they are always flying in thy wake; birds of good omen, too, but not to all; -- look here, they burn; but thou -- thou liv'st among them without a scorch.'

'Because I am scorched all over, Captain Ahab, answered Perth, resting for a moment on his hammer; I am past scorching; not easily can'st thou scorch a scar.'

'Well, well; no more. Thy shrunk voice sounds too calmly, sanely woful to me. In no Paradise myself, I am impatient of all misery in others that is not mad. Thou should'st go mad, blacksmith; say, why dost thou not go mad? How can'st thou endure without being mad? Do the heavens yet hate thee, that thou can'st not go mad? -- What wert thou making there?'

'Welding an old pike-head, Sir; there were seams and dents in it.'

'And can'st thou make it all smooth, again, blacksmith, after such hard usage as it had?'

'I think so, Sir.'

'And I suppose thou can'st smoothe almost any seams and dents; never mind how hard the metal, blacksmith?'

'Aye, Sir, I think I can; all seams and dents but one.'


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'Look ye here, then,' cried Ahab, passionately advancing, and leaning with both hands on Perth's shoulders; 'look ye here -- here -- can ye smoothe out a seam like this, blacksmith', sweeping one hand across his ribbed brows; 'if thou could'st, blacksmith, glad enough would I lay my head upon thy anvil, and feel thy heaviest hammer between my eyes. Answer! Can'st thou smoothe this seam?'

'Oh! that is the one, Sir! Said I not all seams and dents but one?'

'Aye, blacksmith, it is the one; aye, man, it is unsmoothable; for though thou only see'st it here in my flesh, it has worked down into the bone of my skull -- that is all wrinkles! But, away with child's play; no more gaffs and pikes to-day. Look ye here!' jingling the leathern bag, as if it were full of gold coins. 'I, too, want a harpoon made; one that a thousand yoke of fiends could not part, Perth; something that will stick in a whale like his own fin-bone. There's the stuff, flinging the pouch upon the anvil. Look ye, blacksmith, these are the gathered nail-stubbs of the steel shoes of racing horses.'

'Horse-shoe stubbs, Sir? Why, Captain Ahab, thou hast here, then, the best and stubbornest stuff we blacksmiths ever work.'

'I know it, old man; these stubbs will weld together like glue from the melted bones of murderers. Quick! forge me the harpoon. And forge me first, twelve rods for its shank; then wind, and twist, and hammer these twelve together like the yarns and strands of a tow-line. Quick! I'll blow the fire.'

When at last the twelve rods were made, Ahab tried them, one by one, by spiralling them, with his own hand, round a long, heavy iron bolt. 'A flaw! rejecting the last one. Work that over again, Perth.'

This done, Perth was about to begin welding the twelve into one, when Ahab stayed his hand, and said he would weld his own iron. As, then, with regular, gasping hems, he hammered on the anvil, Perth passing to him the glowing rods, one after the other, and the hard pressed forge shooting up its intense straight flame, the Parsee passed silently, and bowing over his head towards the fire, seemed invoking some curse or some blessing on the toil. But, as Ahab looked up, he slid aside.


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'What's that bunch of lucifers dodging about there for?' muttered Stubb, looking on from the forecastle. 'That Parsee smells fire like a fusee; and smells of it himself, like a hot musket's powder-pan.'

At last the shank, in one complete rod, received its final heat; and as perth, to temper it, plunged it all hissing into the cask of water near by, the scalding steam shot up into Ahab's bent face.

'Would'st thou brand me, Perth?' wincing for a moment with the pain; 'have I been but forging my own branding-iron, then?'

'Pray God, not that; yet I fear something, Captain Ahab. Is not this harpoon for the White Whale?'

'For the white fiend! But now for the barbs; thou must make them thyself, man. Here are my razors -- the best of steel; here, and make the barbs sharp as the needle-sleet of the Icy Sea.'

For a moment, the old blacksmith eyed the razors as though he would fain not use them.

'Take them, man, I have no need for them; for I now neither shave, sup, nor pray till -- but here -- to work!'

Fashioned at last into an arrowy shape, and welded by Perth to the shank, the steel soon pointed the end of the iron; and as the blacksmith was about giving the barbs their final heat, prior to tempering them, he cried to Ahab to place the water-cask near.

'No, no -- no water for that; I want it of the true death-temper. Ahoy, there! Tashtego, Queequeg, Daggoo! What say ye, pagans! Will ye give me as much blood as will cover this barb?' holding it high up. A cluster of dark nods replied, Yes. Three punctures were made in the heathen flesh, and the White Whale's barbs were then tempered.

'Ego non baptizo te in nomine patris, sed in nomine diaboli!' deliriously howled Ahab, as the malignant iron scorchingly devoured the baptismal blood.

Now, mustering the spare poles from below, and selecting one of hickory, with the bark still investing it, Ahab fitted the end to the socket of the iron. A coil of new tow-line was then unwound, and some fathoms of it taken to the windlass, and


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stretched to a great tension. Pressing his foot upon it, till the rope hummed like a harp-string, then eagerly bending over it, and seeing no strandings, Ahab exclaimed, 'Good! and now for the seizings.'

At one extremity the rope was unstranded, and the separate spread yarns were all braided and woven round the socket of the harpoon; the pole was then driven hard up into the socket; from the lower end the rope was traced half way along the pole's length, and firmly secured so, with intertwistings of twine. This done, pole, iron, and rope -- like the Three Fates -- remained inseparable, and Ahab moodily stalked away with the weapon; the sound of his ivory leg, and the sound of the hickory pole, both hollowly ringing along every plank. But ere he entered his cabin, a light, unnatural, half-bantering, yet most piteous sound was heard. Oh, Pip! thy wretched laugh, thy idle but unresting eye; all thy strange mummeries not unmeaningly blended with the black tragedy of the melancholy ship, and mocked it!



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Chapter cxiv
THE GILDER

Penetrating further and further into the heart of the Japanese cruising ground, the Pequod was soon all astir in the fishery. Often, in mild, pleasant weather, for twelve, fifteen, eighteen, and twenty hours on the stretch, they were engaged in the boats, steadily pulling, or sailing, or paddling after the whales, or for an interlude of sixty or seventy minutes calmly awaiting their uprising; though with but small success for their pains.

At such times, under an abated sun; afloat all day upon smooth, slow heaving swells; seated in his boat, light as a birch canoe; and so sociably mixing with the soft waves themselves, that like hearth-stone cats they purr against the gunwale; these are the times of dreamy quietude, when beholding the tranquil


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beauty and brilliancy of the ocean's skin, one forgets the tiger heart that pants beneath it; and would not willingly remember, that this velvet paw but conceals a remorseless fang.

These are the times, when in his whale-boat the rover softly feels a certain filial, confident, land-like feeling towards the sea; that he regards it as so much flowery earth; and the distant ship revealing only the tops of her masts, seems struggling forward, not though high rolling waves, but through the tall grass of a rolling prairie: as when the western emigrants' horses only show their erected ears, while their hidden bodies widely wade through the amazing verdure.

The long-drawn virgin vales; the mild blue hill-sides; as over these there steals the hush, the hum; you almost swear that play-wearied children lie sleeping in these solitudes, in some glad May-time, when the flowers of the woods are plucked. And all this mixes with your most mystic mood; so that fact and fancy, half-way meeting, interpenetrate, and form one seamless whole.

Nor did such soothing scenes, however temporary, fail of at least as temporary an effect on Ahab. But if these secret golden keys did seem to open in him his own secret golden treasuries, yet did his breath upon them prove but tarnishing.

Oh, grassy glades! oh, ever vernal endless landscapes in the soul; in ye, -- though long parched by the dead drought of the earthy life, -- in ye, men yet may roll, like young horses in new morning clover; and for some few fleeting moments, feel the cool dew of the life immortal on them. Would to God these blessed calms would last. But the mingled, mingling threads of life are woven by warp and woof: calms crossed by storms, a storm for every calm. There is no steady unretracing progress in this life; we do not advance through fixed gradations, and at the last one pause: -- through infancy's unconscious spell, boyhood's thoughtless faith, adolescence' doubt (the common doom), then scepticism, then disbelief, resting at last in manhood's pondering repose of If. But once gone through, we trace the round again; and are infants, boys, and men, and Ifs eternally. Where lies the final harbor, whence we unmoor no more? in what rapt ether sails the world, of which the weariest will


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never weary? Where is the foundling's father hidden? Our souls are like those orphans whose unwedded mothers die in bearing them: the secret of our paternity lies in their grave, and we must there to learn it.

And that same day, too, gazing far down from his boat's side into that same golden sea, Starbuck lowly murmured: --

'Loveliness unfathomable, as ever lover saw in his young bride's eye! -- Tell me not of thy teeth-tiered sharks, and thy kidnapping cannibal ways. Let faith oust fact; let fancy oust memory; I look deep down and do believe.'

And Stubb, fish-like, with sparkling scales, leaped up in that same golden light: --

'I am Stubb, and Stubb has his history; but here Stubb takes oaths that he has always been jolly!'



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Chapter cxv
THE PEQUOD MEETS THE BACHELOR

And jolly enough were the sights and the sounds that came bearing down before the wind, some few weeks after Ahab's harpoon had been welded.

It was a Nantucket ship, the Bachelor, which had just wedged in her last cask of oil, and bolted down her bursting hatches; and now, in glad holiday apparel, was joyously, though somewhat vain-gloriously, sailing round among the widely-separated ships on the ground, previous to pointing her prow for home.

The three men at her mast-head wore long streamers of narrow red bunting at their hats; from the stern, a whale-boat was suspended, bottom down; and hanging captive from the bowsprit was seen the long lower jaw of the last whale they had slain. Signals, ensigns, and jacks of all colors were flying from her rigging, on every side. Sideways lashed in each of her three basketed tops were two barrels of sperm; above which, in her top-mast cross-trees, you saw slender breakers of the


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same precious fluid; and nailed to her main truck was a brazen lamp.

As was afterwards learned, the bachelor had met with the most surprising success; all the more wonderful, for that while cruising in the same seas numerous other vessels had gone entire months without securing a single fish. Not only had barrels of beef and bread been given away to make room for the far more valuable sperm, but additional supplemental casks had been bartered for, from the ships she had met; and these were stowed along the deck, and in the captain's and officers' staterooms. Even the cabin table itself had been knocked into kindling-wood; and the cabin mess dined off the broad head of an oil-butt, lashed down to the floor for a centrepiece. In the forecastle, the sailors had actually caulked and pitched their chests, and filled them; it was humorously added, that the cook had clapped a head on his largest boiler, and filled it; that the steward had plugged his spare coffee-pot and filled it; that the harpooneers had headed the sockets of their irons and filled them; that indeed everything was filled with sperm, except the captain's pantaloons pockets, and those he reserved to thrust his hands into, in self- complacent testimony of his entire satisfaction.

As this glad ship of good luck bore down upon the moody Pequod, the barbarian sound of enormous drums came from her forecastle; and drawing still nearer, a crowd of her men were seen standing round her huge try-pots, which, covered with the parchment-like poke or stomach skin of the black fish, gave forth a loud roar to every stroke of the clenched hands of the crew. On the quarter-deck, the mates and harpooneers were dancing with the olive-hued girls who had eloped with them from the Polynesian Isles; while suspended in an ornamented boat, firmly secured aloft between the foremast and mainmast, three Long Island negroes, with glittering fiddle-bows of whale ivory, were presiding over the hilarious jig. Meanwhile, others of the ship's company were tumultuously busy at the masonry of the try-works, from which the huge pots had been removed. You would have almost thought they were pulling down the cursed Bastile, such wild cries they raised, as the now useless brick and mortar were being hurled into the sea.


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Lord and master over all this scene, the captain stood erect on the ship's elevated quarter-deck, so that the whole rejoicing drama was full before him, and seemed merely contrived for his own individual diversion.

And Ahab, he too was standing on his quarter-deck, shaggy and black, with a stubborn gloom; and as the two ships crossed each other's wakes -- one all jubilations for things passed, the other all forebodings as to things to come -- their two captains in themselves impersonated the whole striking contrast of the scene.

'Come aboard, come aboard!' cried the gay Bachelor's commander, lifting a glass and a bottle in the air.

'Hast seen the White Whale?' gritted Ahab in reply.

'No; only heard of him; but don't believe in him at all,' said the other good-humoredly. 'Come aboard!'

'Thou are too damned jolly. Sail on. Hast lost any men?'

' Not enough to speak of -- two islanders, that's all; -- but come aboard, old hearty, come along. I'll soon take that black from your brow. Come along, will ye (merry's the play); a full ship and homeward-bound.'

'How wondrous familiar is a fool!' muttered Ahab; then aloud, 'Thou art a full ship and homeward bound, thou sayest; well, then, call me an empty ship, and outward-bound. So go thy ways, and I will mine. Forward there! Set all sail, and keep her to the wind!'

And thus, while the one ship went cheerily before the breeze, the other stubbornly fought against it; and so the two vessels parted; the crew of the Pequod looking with grave, lingering glances towards the receding Bachelor; but the Bachelor's men never heeding their gaze for the lively revelry they were in. And as Ahab, leaning over the taffrail, eyed the homeward-bound craft, he took from his pocket a small vial of sand, and then looking from the ship to the vial, seemed thereby bringing two remote associations together, for that vial was filled with Nantucket soundings.



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Chapter cxvi
THE DYING WHALE

Not seldom in this life, when, on the right side, fortune's favorites sail close by us, we, though all adroop before, catch somewhat of the rushing breeze, and joyfully feel our bagging sails fill out. So seemed it with the Pequod. For next day after encountering the gay Bachelor, whales were seen and four were slain; and one of them by Ahab.

It was far down the afternoon; and when all the spearings of the crimson fight were done: and floating in the lovely sunset sea and sky, sun and whale both stilly died together; then, such a sweetness and such plaintiveness, such inwreathing orisons curled up in that rosy air, that it almost seemed as if far over from the deep green convent valleys of the Manilla isles, the Spanish land- breeze, wantonly turned sailor, had gone to sea, freighted with these vesper hymns.

Soothed again, but only soothed to deeper gloom, Ahab, who had sterned off from the whale, sat intently watching his final wanings from the now tranquil boat. For that strange spectacle observable in all sperm whales dying -- the turning sunwards of the head, and so expiring -- that strange spectacle, beheld of such a placid evening, somehow to Ahab conveyed a wondrousness unknown before.

'He turns and turns him to it, -- how slowly, but how steadfastly, his homage-rendering and invoking brow, with his last dying motions. He too worships fire; most faithful, broad, baronial vassal of the sun! -- Oh that these too-favoring eyes should see these too-favoring sights. Look! here, far water-locked; beyond all hum of human weal or woe; in these most candid and impartial seas; where to traditions no rocks furnish tablets; where for long Chinese ages, the billows have still rolled on speechless and unspoken to, as stars that shine upon the Niger's unknown source; here, too, life dies sunwards full of


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faith; but see! no sooner dead, than death whirls round the corpse, and it heads some other way. --

'Oh, thou dark Hindoo half of nature, who of drowned bones hast builded thy separate throne somewhere in the heart of these unverdured seas; thou art an infidel, thou queen, and too truly speakest to me in the wide-slaughtering Typhoon, and the hushed burial of its after calm. Nor has this thy whale sunwards turned his dying head, and then gone round again, without a lesson to me.

'Oh, trebly hooped and welded hip of power! Oh, high aspiring, rainbowed jet! -- that one strivest, this one jettest all in vain! In vain, oh whale, dost thou seek intercedings with yon all-quickening sun, that only calls forth life, but gives it not again. Yet dost thou, darker half, rock me with a prouder, if a darker faith. All thy unnamable imminglings, float beneath me here; I am buoyed by breaths of once living things, exhaled as air, but water now.

'Then hail, for ever hail, O sea, in whose eternal tossings the wild fowl finds his only rest. Born of earth, yet suckled by the sea; though hill and valley mothered me, ye billows are my foster-brothers!'



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Chapter cxvii
THE WHALE WATCH

The four whales slain that evening had died wide apart; one, far to windward; one, less distant, to leeward; one ahead; one astern. These last three were brought alongside ere nightfall; but the windward one could not be reached till morning; and the boat that had killed it lay by its side all night; and that boat was Ahab's.

The waif-pole was thrust upright into the dead whale's spout-hole; and the lantern hanging from its top, cast a troubled flickering glare upon the black, glossy back, and far out upon the


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midnight waves, which gently chafed the whale's broad flank, like soft surf upon a beach.

Ahab and all his boat's crew seemed asleep but the Parsee; who crouching in the bow, sat watching the sharks, that spectrally played round the whale, and tapped the light cedar planks with their tails. A sound like the moaning in squadrons over Asphaltites of unforgiven ghosts of Gomorrah, ran shuddering through the air.

Started from his slumbers, Ahab, face to face, saw the Parsee; and hooped round by the gloom of the night they seemed the last men in a flooded world. 'I have dreamed it again,' said he.

'Of the hearses? Have I not said, old man, that neither hearse nor coffin can be thine?'

'And who are hearsed that die on the sea?'

'But I said, old man, that ere thou couldst die on this voyage, two hearses must verily be seen by thee on the sea; the first not made by mortal hands; and the visible wood of the last one must be grown in America.'

'Aye, aye! a strange sight that, Parsee: -- a hearse and its plumes floating over the ocean with the waves for the pall-bearers. Ha! Such a sight we shall not soon see.'

'Believe it or not, thou canst not die till it be seen, old man.'

'And what was that saying about thyself?'

'Though it come to the last, I shall still go before thee thy pilot.'

'And when thou art so gone before -- if that ever befall -- then ere I can follow, thou must still appear to me, to pilot me still? -- Was it not so? Well, then, did I believe all ye say, oh my pilot! I have here two pledges that I shall yet slay Moby Dick and survive it.'

'Take another pledge, old man, said the Parsee, as his eyes lighted up like fire-flies in the gloom, -- Hemp only can kill thee.'

'The gallows, ye mean. -- I am immortal then, on land and on sea,' cried Ahab, with a laugh of derision; -- 'Immortal on land and on sea!'

Both were silent again, as one man. The grey dawn came on, and the slumbering crew arose from the boat's bottom, and ere noon the dead whale was brought to the ship.



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Chapter cxviii
THE QUADRANT

The season for the Line at length drew near; and every day when Ahab, coming from his cabin, cast his eyes aloft, the vigilant helmsman would ostentatiously handle his spokes, and the eager mariners quickly run to the braces, and would stand there with all their eyes centrally fixed on the nailed doubloon; impatient for the order to point the ship's prow for the equator. In good time the order came. It was hard upon high noon; and Ahab, seated in the bows of his high-hoisted boat, was about taking his wonted daily observation of the sun to determine his latitude.

Now, in that Japanese sea, the days in summer are as freshets of effulgences. That unblinkingly vivid Japanese sun seems the blazing focus of the glassy ocean's immeasureable burning-glass. The sky looks lacquered; clouds there are none; the horizon floats; and this nakedness of unrelieved radiance is as the insufferable splendors of God's throne. Well that Ahab's quadrant was furnished with colored glasses, through which to take sight of that solar fire. So, swinging his seated form to the roll of the ship, and with his astrological-looking instrument placed to his eye, he remained in that posture for some moments to catch the precise instant when the sun should gain its precise meridian. Meantime while his whole attention was absorbed, the Parsee was kneeling beneath him on the ship's deck, and with face thrown up like Ahab's, was eyeing the same sun with him; only the lids of his eyes half hooded their orbs, and his wild face was subdued to an earthly passionlessness. At length the desired observation was taken; and with his pencil upon his ivory leg, Ahab soon calculated what his latitude must be at that precise instant. Then falling into a moment's revery, he again looked up towards the sun and murmured to himself: 'Thou sea-mark! thou high and mighty Pilot! thou tellest me truly


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where I am -- but canst thou cast the least hint where I shall be? Or canst thou tell where some other thing besides me is this moment living? Where is Moby Dick? This instant thou must be eyeing him. These eyes of mine look into the very eye that is even now beholding him; aye, and into the eye that is even now equally beholding the objects on the unknown, thither side of thee, thou sun!'

Then gazing at his quadrant, and handling, one after the other, its numerous cabalistical contrivances, he pondered again, and muttered: 'Foolish toy! babies' plaything of haughty Admirals, and Commodores, and Captains; the world brags of thee, of thy cunning and might; but what after all canst thou do, but tell the poor, pitiful point, where thou thyself happenest to be on this wide planet, and the hand that holds thee: no! not one jot more! Thou canst not tell where one drop of water or one grain of sand will be to-morrow noon; and yet with thy impotence thou insultest the sun! Science! Curse thee, thou vain toy; and cursed be all the things that cast man's eyes aloft to that heaven, whose live vividness but scorches him, as these old eyes are even now scorched with thy light, O sun! Level by nature to this earth's horizon are the glances of man's eyes; not shot from the crown of his head, as if God had meant him to gaze on his firmament. Curse thee, thou quadrant!' dashing it to the deck, 'no longer will I guide my earthly way by thee; the level ship's compass, and the level dead-reckoning, by log and by line; these shall conduct me, and show me my place on the sea. Aye,' lighting from the boat to the deck, 'thus I trample on thee, thou paltry thing that feebly pointest on high; thus I split and destroy thee!'

As the frantic old man thus spoke and thus trampled with his live and dead feet, a sneering triumph that seemed meant for Ahab, and a fatalistic despair that seemed meant for himself -- these passed over the mute, motionless Parsee's face. Unobserved he rose and glided away; while, awestruck by the aspect of their commander, the seamen clustered together on the forecastle, till Ahab, troubledly pacing the deck, shouted out -- 'To the braces! Up helm! -- square in!'

In an instant the yards swung round; and as the ship half-wheeled


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upon her heel, her three firm-seated graceful masts erectly poised upon her long, ribbed hull, seemed as the three Horatii pirouetting on one sufficient steed.

Standing between the knight-heads, Starbuck watched the Pequod's tumultuous way, and Ahab's also, as he went lurching along the deck.

'I have sat before the dense coal fire and watched it all aglow, full of its tormented flaming life; and I have seen it wane at last, down, down, to dumbest dust. Old man of oceans! of all this fiery life of thine, what will at length remain but one little heap of ashes!'

'Aye,' cried Stubb, 'but sea-coal ashes -- mind ye that, Mr. Starbuck -- sea- coal, not your common charcoal. Well, well; I heard Ahab mutter, "Here some one thrusts these cards into these old hands of mine; swears that I must play them, and no others." And damn me, Ahab, but thou actest right; live in the game, and die it!'



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Chapter cxix
THE CANDLES

Warmest climes but nurse the cruellest fangs: the tiger of Bengal crouches in spiced groves of ceaseless verdure. Skies the most effulgent but basket the deadliest thunders: gorgeous Cuba knows tornadoes that never swept tame northern lands. So, too, it is, that in these resplendent Japanese seas the mariner encounters the direst of all storms, the Typhoon. It will sometimes burst from out that cloudless sky, like an exploding bomb upon a dazed and sleepy town.

Towards evening of that day, the Pequod was torn of her canvas, and bare- poled was left to fight a Typhoon which had struck her directly ahead. When darkness came on, sky and sea roared and split with the thunder, and blazed with the lightning, that showed the disabled masts fluttering here and there with


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the rags which the first fury of the tempest had left for its after sport.

Holding by a shroud, Starbuck was standing on the quarter-deck; at every flash of the lightning glancing aloft, to see what additional disaster might have befallen the intricate hamper there; while Stubb and Flask were directing the men in the higher hoisting and firmer lashing of the boats. But all their pains seemed naught. Though lifted to the very top of the cranes, the windward quarter boat (Ahab's) did not escape. A great rolling sea, dashing high up against the reeling ship's high tetering side, stove in the boat's bottom at the stern, and left it again, all dripping through like a sieve.

'Bad work, bad work! Mr. Starbuck,' said Stubb, regarding the wreck, 'but the sea will have its way. Stubb, for one, can't fight it. You see, Mr. Starbuck, a wave has such a great long start before it leaps, all round the world it runs, and then comes the spring! But as for me, all the start I have to meet it, is just across the deck here. But never mind; it's all in fun: so the old song says;' -- (sings). Oh! jolly is the gale, And a joker is the whale, A' flourishin' his tail, -- Such a funny, sporty, gamy, jesty, joky, hoky-poky lad, is the Ocean, oh! The scud all a flyin', That's his flip only foamin'; When he stirs in the spicin', -- Such a funny, sporty, gamy, jesty, joky, hoky-poky lad, is the Ocean, oh! Thunder splits the ships, But he only smacks his lips, A tastin' of this flip, -- Such a funny, sporty, gamy, jesty, joky, hoky-poky lad, is the Ocean, oh!

'Avast Stubb,' cried Starbuck, 'let the Typhoon sing, and strike his harp here in our rigging; but if thou art a brave man thou wilt hold thy peace.'

'But I am not a brave man; never said I was a brave man; I am a coward; and I sing to keep up my spirits. And I tell you what it is, Mr. Starbuck, there's no way to stop my singing


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in this world but to cut my throat. And when that's done, ten to one I sing ye the doxology for a wind-up.'

'Madman! look through my eyes if thou hast none of thine own.'

'What! how can you see better of a dark night than anybody else, never mind how foolish?'

'Here!' cried Starbuck, seizing Stubb by the shoulder, and pointing his hand towards the weather bow, 'markest thou not that the gale comes from the eastward, the very course Ahab is to run for Moby Dick? the very course he swung to this day noon? now mark his boat there; where is that stove? In the stern-sheets, man; where he is wont to stand -- his stand-point is stove, man! Now jump overboard, and sing away, if thou must!'

'I don't half understand ye: what's in the wind?'

'Yes, yes, round the Cape of Good Hope is the shortest way to Nantucket,' soliloquized Starbuck suddenly, heedless of Stubb's question. 'The gale that now hammers at us to stave us, we can turn it into a fair wind that will drive us towards home. Yonder, to windward, all is blackness of doom; but to leeward, homeward -- I see it lightens up there; but not with the lightning.'

At that moment in one of the intervals of profound darkness, following the flashes, a voice was heard at his side; and almost at the same instant a volley of thunder peals rolled overhead.

'Who's there?'

'Old Thunder!' said Ahab, groping his way along the bulwarks to his pivot-hole; but suddenly finding his path made plain to him by elbowed lances of fire.

Now, as the lightning rod to a spire on shore is intended to carry off the perilous fluid into the soil; so the kindred rod which at sea some ships carry to each mast, is intended to conduct it into the water. But as this conductor must descend to considerable depth, that its end may avoid all contact with the hull; and as moreover, if kept constantly towing there, it would be liable to many mishaps, besides interfering not a little with some of the rigging, and more or less impeding the vessel's way in the water; because of all this, the lower parts of a ship's


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lightning-rods are not always overboard; but are generally made in long slender links, so as to be the more readily hauled up into the chains outside, or thrown down into the sea, as occasion may require.

'The rods! the rods!' cried Starbuck to the crew, suddenly admonished to vigilance by the vivid lightning that had just been darting flambeaux, to light Ahab to his post. 'Are they overboard? drop them over, fore and aft. Quick!'

'Avast!' cried Ahab; 'let's have fair play here, though we be the weaker side. Yet I'll contribute to raise rods on the Himmalehs and Andes, that all the world may be secured; but out on privileges! Let them be, Sir.'

'Look aloft!' cried Starbuck. 'The St. Elmo's Lights(corpus sancti) corpusants! the corpusants!'

All the yard-arms were tipped with a pallid fire; and touched at each tri-pointed lightning-rod-end with three tapering white flames, each of the three tall masts was silently burning in that sulphurous air, like three gigantic wax tapers before an altar.

'Blast the boat! let it go!' cried Stubb at this instant, as a swashing sea heaved up under his own little craft, so that its gunwale violently jammed his hand, as he was passing a lashing. 'Blast it!' -- but slipping backward on the deck, his uplifted eyes caught the flames; and immediately shifting his tone, he cried -- 'The corpusants have mercy on us all!'

To sailors, oaths are household words; they will swear in the trance of the calm, and in the teeth of the tempest; they will imprecate curses from the topsail-yard-arms, when most they teter over to a seething sea; but in all my voyagings, seldom have I heard a common oath when God's burning finger has been laid on the ship; when his 'Mene, Mene, Tekel Upharsin' has been woven into the shrouds and the cordage.

While this pallidness was burning aloft, few words were heard from the enchanted crew; who in one thick cluster stood on the forecastle, all their eyes gleaming in that pale phosphorescence, like a far away constellation of stars. Relieved against the ghostly light, the gigantic jet negro, Daggoo, loomed up to thrice his real stature, and seemed the black cloud from which the thunder had come. The parted mouth of Tashtego revealed his shark-white teeth, which strangely gleamed as if they too


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had been tipped by corpusants; while lit up by the preternatural light, Queequeg's tattooing burned like Satanic blue flames on his body.

The tableau all waned at last with the pallidness aloft; and once more the Pequod and every soul on her decks were wrapped in a pall. A moment or two passed, when Starbuck, going forward, pushed against some one. It was Stubb. 'What thinkest thou now, man; I heard thy cry; it was not the same in the song.'

'No, no, it wasn't; I said the corpusants have mercy on us all; and I hope they will, still. But do they only have mercy on long faces? -- have they no bowels for a laugh? And look ye, Mr. Starbuck -- but it's too dark to look. Hear me, then: I take that mast-head flame we saw for a sign of good luck; for those masts are rooted in a hold that is going to be chock a' block with sperm-oil, d'ye see; and so, all that sperm will work up into the masts, like sap in a tree. Yes, our three masts will yet be as three spermaceti candles -- that's the good promise we saw.'

At that moment Starbuck caught sight of Stubb's face slowly beginning to glimmer into sight. Glancing upwards, he cried: 'See! see!' and once more the high tapering flames were beheld with what seemed redoubled supernaturalness in their pallor.

'The corpusants have mercy on us all,' cried Stubb, again.

At the base of the mainmast, full beneath the doubloon and the flame, the parsee was kneeling in Ahab's front, but with his head bowed away from him; while near by, from the arched and overhanging rigging, where they had just been engaged securing a spar, a number of the seamen, arrested by the glare, now cohered together, and hung pendulous, like a knot of numbed wasps from a drooping, orchard twig. In various enchanted attitudes, like the standing, or stepping, or running skeletons in Herculaneum, others remained rooted to the deck; but all their eyes upcast.

'Aye, aye, men!' cried Ahab. 'Look up at it; mark it well; the white flame but lights the way to the White Whale! Hand me those main-mast links there; I would fain feel this pulse, and let mine beat against it; blood against fire! So.'


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Then turning -- the last link held fast in his left hand, he put his foot upon the Parsee; and with fixed upward eye, and high- flung right arm, he stood erect before the lofty tri-pointed trinity of flames.

'Oh! thou clear spirit of clear fire, whom on these seas I as Persian once did worship, till in the sacramental act so burned by thee, that to this hour I bear the scar; I now know thee, thou clear spirit, and I now know that thy right worship is defiance. To neither love nor reverence wilt thou be kind; and e'en for hate thou canst but kill; and all are killed. No fearless fool now fronts thee.'

Sudden, repeated flashes of lightning; the nine flames leap length-wise to thrice their previous height; Ahah, with the rest, closes his eyes, his right hand pressed hard upon them.

'I own thy speechless, placeless power; but to the last gasp of my earthquake life will dispute its unconditional, unintegral mastery in me. In the midst of the personified impersonal, a personality stands here. Though but a point at best; whencesoe'er I came; wheresoe'er I go; yet while I earthly live, the queenly personality lives in me, and feels her royal rights. But war is pain, and hate is woe. Come in thy lowest form of love, and I will kneel and kiss thee; but at thy highest, come as mere supernal power; and though thou launchest navies of full-freighted worlds, there's that in here that still remains indifferent. Oh, thou clear spirit, of thy fire thou madest me, and like a true child of fire, I breathe it back to thee. [Sudden, repeated flashes of lightning; the nine flames leap lengthwise to thrice their previous height; Ahab, with the rest, closes his eyes, his right hand pressed hard upon them.] I own thy speechless, placeless power; said I not so? Nor was it wrung from me; nor do I now drop these links. Thou canst blind; but I can then grope. Thou canst consume; but I can then be ashes. Take the homage of these poor eyes, and shutter-hands. I would not take it. The lightning flashes through my skull; mine eye-balls ache and ache; my whole beaten brain seems as beheaded, and rolling on some stunning ground. Oh, oh! Yet blindfold, yet will I talk to thee. Light though thou be, thou leapest out of darkness; but I am darkness leaping out of light, leaping out of thee! The javelins cease; open eyes; see, or not? There burn the flames! Oh, thou magnanimous! now do I glory in my genealogy. But thou art but my fiery father; my sweet mother, I know not. Oh, cruel! what hast


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thou done with her? There lies my puzzle; but thine is greater. Thou knowest not how came ye, hence callest thyself unbegotten; certainly knowest not thy beginning, hence callest thyself unbegun. I know that of me, which thou knowest not of thyself, oh, thou omnipotent. There is some unsuffusing thing beyond thee, thou clear spirit, to whom all thy eternity is but time, all thy creativeness mechanical. Through thee, thy flaming self, my scorched eyes do dimly see it. Oh, thou foundling fire, thou hermit immemorial, thou too hast thy incommunicable riddle, thy unparticipated grief. Here again with haughty agony, I read my sire. leap! leap up, and lick the sky! I leap with thee; I burn with thee; would fain be welded with thee; defyingly I worship thee!'

'The boat! the boat!' cried Starbuck, 'look at thy boat, old man!'

Ahab's harpoon, the one forged at Perth's fire, remained firmly lashed in its conspicuous crotch, so that it projected beyond his whale- boat's bow; but the sea that had stove its bottom had caused the loose leather sheath to drop off; and from the keen steel barb there now came a levelled flame of pale, forked fire. As the silent harpoon burned there like a serpent's tongue, Starbuck grasped Ahab by the arm -- 'God, God is against thee, old man; forbear! t'is an ill voyage! ill begun, ill continued; let me square the yards, while we may, old man, and make a fair wind of it homewards, to go on a better voyage than this.'

Overhearing Starbuck, the panic-stricken crew instantly ran to the braces -- though not a sail was left aloft. For the moment all the aghast mate's thoughts seemed theirs; they raised a half mutinous cry. But dashing the rattling lightning links to the deck, and snatching the burning harpoon, Ahab waved it like a torch among them; swearing to transfix with it the first sailor that but cast loose a rope's end. Petrified by his aspect, and still more shrinking from the fiery dart that he held, the men fell back in dismay, and Ahab again spoke: --

'All your oaths to hunt the White Whale are as binding as mine; and heart, soul, and body, lungs and life, old Ahab is bound. And that ye may know to what tune this heart beats;


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look ye here; thus I blow out the last fear!' And with one blast of his breath he extinguished the flame.

As in the hurricane that sweeps the plain, men fly the neighborhood of some lone, gigantic elm, whose very height and strength but render it so much the more unsafe, because so much the more a mark for thunderbolts; so at those last words of Ahab's many of the mariners did run from him in a terror of dismay.



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Chapter cxx
THE DECK TOWARDS THE END OF THE FIRST NIGHT WATCH

Ahab standing by the helm. Starbuck approaching him.

'We must send down the main-top-sail yard, Sir. The band is working loose, and the lee lift is half-stranded. Shall I strike it, Sir?'

'Strike nothing; lash it. If I had sky-sail poles, I'd sway them up now.'

'Sir? -- in God's name! -- Sir?'

'Well.'

'The anchors are working, Sir. Shall I get them inboard?'

'Strike nothing, and stir nothing, but lash everything. The wind rises, but it has not got up to my table-lands yet. Quick, and see to it. -- By masts and keels! he takes me for the hunch-backed skipper of some coasting smack. Send down my main-top-sail yard! Ho, gluepots! Loftiest trucks were made for wildest winds, and this brain-truck of mine now sails amid the cloud-scud. Shall I strike that? Oh, none but cowards send down their brain-trucks in tempest time. What a hooroosh aloft there! I would e'en take it for sublime, did I not know that the colic is a noisy malady. Oh, take medicine, take medicine!'



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Chapter cxxi
MIDNIGHT -- THE FORECASTLE BULWARKS

Stubb and Flask mounted on them, and passing additional lashings over the anchors there hanging.

'No, Stubb; you may pound that knot there as much as you please, but you will never pound into me what you were just now saying. And how long ago is it since you said the very contrary? Didn't you once say that whatever ship Ahab sails in, that ship should pay something extra on its insurance policy, just as though it were loaded with powder barrels aft and boxes of lucifers forward? Stop, now; didn't you say so?'

'Well, suppose I did? What then? I've part changed my flesh since that time, why not my mind? Besides, supposing we are loaded with powder barrels aft and lucifers forward; how the devil could the lucifers get afire in this drenching spray here? Why, my little man, you have pretty red hair, but you couldn't get afire now. Shake yourself; you're Aquarius, or the water-bearer, Flask; might fill pitchers at your coat collar. Don't you see, then, that for these extra risks the Marine Insurance companies have extra guarantees? Here are hydrants, Flask. But hark, again, and I'll answer ye the other thing. First take your leg off from the crown of the anchor here, though, so I can pass the rope; now listen. What's the mighty difference between holding a mast's lightning- rod in the storm, and standing close by a mast that hasn't got any lightning-rod at all in a storm? Don't you see, you timber-head, that no harm can come to the holder of the rod, unless the mast is first struck? What are you talking about, then? Not one ship in a hundred carries rods, and Ahab, -- aye, man, and all of us, -- were in no more danger then, in my poor opinion, than all the crews in ten thousand ships now sailing the seas. Why, you King- Post, you, I suppose you would have every man in the world go about


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with a small lightning-rod running up the corner of his hat, like a militia officer's skewered feather, and trailing behind like his sash. Why don't ye be sensible, Flask? it's easy to be sensible; why don't ye, then? any man with half an eye can be sensible.'

'I don't know that, Stubb. You sometimes find it rather hard.'

'Yes, when a fellow's soaked through, it's hard to be sensible, that's a fact. And I am about drenched with this spray. Never mind; catch the turn there, and pass it. Seems to me we are lashing down these anchors now as if they were never going to be used again. tying these two anchors here, Flask, seems like tying a man's hands behind him. And what big generous hands they are, to be sure. These are your iron fists, hey? What a hold they have, too! I wonder, Flask, whether the world is anchored anywhere; if she is, she swings with an uncommon long cable, though. There, hammer that knot down, and we've done. So; next to touching land, lighting on deck is the most satisfactory. I say, just wring out my jacket skirts, will ye? Thank ye. They laugh at long-togs so, Flask; but seems to me, a long tailed coat ought always to be worn in all storms afloat. The tails tapering down that way, serve to carry off the water, d'ye see. Same with cocked hats; the cocks form gable-end eave-troughs, Flask. No more monkey-jackets and tarpaulins for me; I must mount a swallow-tail, and drive down a beaver; so. Halloa! whew! there goes my tarpaulin overboard; Lord, Lord, that the winds that come from heaven should be so unmannerly! This is a nasty night, lad.'



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Chapter cxxii
MIDNIGHT ALOFT -- THUNDER AND LIGHTNING

The Main-top-sail yard. -- Tashtego passing new lashings around it.

'Um, um, um. Stop that thunder! Plenty too much thunder up here. What's the use of thunder? Um, um, um. We don't want thunder; we want rum; give us a glass of rum. Um, um, um!'



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Chapter cxxiii
THE MUSKET

During the most violent shocks of the Typhoon, the man at the Pequod's jaw-bone tiller had several times been reelingly hurled to the deck by its spasmodic motions, even though preventer tackles had been attached to it -- for they were slack -- because some play to the tiller was indispensable. In a severe gale like this, while the ship is but a tossed shuttle-cock to the blast, it is by no means uncommon to see the needles in the compasses, at intervals, go round and round. It was thus with the Pequod's; at almost every shock the helmsman had not failed to notice the whirling velocity with which they revolved upon the cards; it is a sight that hardly any one can behold without some sort of unwonted emotion. Some hours after midnight, the Typhoon abated so much, that through the strenuous exertions of Starbuck and Stubb -- one engaged forward and the other aft -- the shivered remnants of the jib and fore and main-top-sails were cut adrift from the spars, and went eddying away to leeward, like the feathers of


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an albatross, which sometimes are cast to the winds when that storm-tossed bird is on the wing. The three corresponding new sails were now bent and reefed, and a storm-trysail was set further aft; so that the ship soon went through the water with some precision again; and the course -- for the present, East- south-east -- which he was to steer, if practicable, was once more given to the helmsman. For during the violence of the gale, he had only steered according to its vicissitudes. But as he was now bringing the ship as near her course as possible, watching the compass meanwhile, lo! a good sign! the wind seemed coming round astern; aye! the foul breeze became fair!

Instantly the yards were squared, to the lively song of 'Ho! the fair wind! oh-he-yo, cheerly, men!' the crew singing for joy, that so promising an event should so soon have falsified the evil portents preceding it.

In compliance with the standing order of his commander -- to report immediately, and at any one of the twenty-four hours, any decided change in the affairs of the deck, -- Starbuck had no sooner trimmed the yards to the breeze -- however reluctantly and gloomily, -- than he mechanically went below to apprise Captain Ahab of the circumstance.

Ere knocking at his state-room, he involuntarily paused before it a moment. The cabin lamp -- taking long swings this way and that -- was burning fitfully, and casting fitful shadows upon the old man's bolted door, -- a thin one, with fixed blinds inserted, in place of upper panels. The isolated subterraneousness of the cabin made a certain humming silence to reign there, though it was hooped round by all the roar of the elements. The loaded muskets in the rack were shiningly revealed, as they stood upright against the forward bulkhead. Starbuck was an honest, upright man; but out of Starbuck's heart, at that instant when he saw the muskets, there strangely evolved an evil thought; but so blent with its neutral or good accompaniments that for the instant he hardly knew it for itself.

'He would have shot me once,' he murmured, 'yes, there's the very musket that he pointed at me; -- that one with the studded stock; let me touch it -- lift it. Strange, that I, who have


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handled so many deadly lances, strange, that I should shake so now. Loaded? I must see. Aye, aye; and powder in the pan; -- that's not good. Best spill it? -- wait. I'll cure myself of this. I'll hold the musket boldly while I think. -- I come to report a fair wind to him. But how fair? Fair for death and doom, -- that's fair for Moby Dick. It's a fair wind that's only fair for that accursed fish. -- The very tube he pointed at me! -- the very one; this one -- I hold it here; he would have killed me with the very thing I handle now. -- Aye and he would fain kill all his crew. Does he not say he will not strike his spars to any gale? Has he not dashed his heavenly quadrant? and in these same perilous seas, gropes he not his way by mere dead reckoning of the error-abounding log? and in this very Typhoon, did he not swear that he would have no lightning-rods? But shall this crazed old man be tamely suffered to drag a whole ship's company down to doom with him? -- Yes, it would make him the wilful murderer of thirty men and more, if this ship come to any deadly harm; and come to deadly harm, my soul swears this ship will, if Ahab have his way. If, then, he were this instant -- put aside, that crime would not be his. Ha! is he muttering in his sleep? Yes, just there, -- in there, he's sleeping. Sleeping? aye, but still alive, and soon awake again. I can't withstand thee, then, old man. Not reasoning; not remonstrance; not entreaty wilt thou hearken to; all this thou scornest. Flat obedience to thy own flat commands, this is all thou breathest. Aye, and say'st the men have vow'd thy vow; say'st all of us are Ahabs. Great God forbid! -- But is there no other way? no lawful way? -- Make him a prisoner to be taken home? What! hope to wrest this old man's living power from his own living hands? Only a fool would try it. Say he were pinioned even; knotted all over with ropes and hawsers; chained down to ring-bolts on this cabin floor; he would be more hideous than a caged tiger, then. I could not endure the sight; could not possibly fly his howlings; all comfort, sleep itself, inestimable reason would leave me on the long intolerable voyage. What, then, remains? The land is hundreds of leagues away, and locked Japan the nearest. I stand alone here upon an open sea, with two oceans and a whole continent between me and law. -- Aye, aye, 'tis so. -- Is heaven a murderer


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when its lightning strikes a would-be murderer in his bed, tindering sheets and skin together? -- And would I be a murderer, then, if -- and slowly, stealthily, and half sideways looking, he placed the loaded musket's end against the door.

'On this level, Ahab's hammock swings within; his head this way. A touch, and Starbuck may survive to hug his wife and child again. -- Oh Mary! Mary! -- boy! boy! boy! -- But if I wake thee not to death, old man, who can tell to what unsounded deeps Starbuck's body this day week may sink, with all the crew! Great God, where art thou? Shall I? shall I? -- The wind has gone down and shifted, Sir; the fore and main topsails are reefed and set; she heads her course.'

'Stern all! Oh Moby Dick, I clutch thy heart at last!'

Such were the sounds that now came hurtling from out the old man's tormented sleep, as if Starbuck's voice had caused the long dumb dream to speak.

The yet levelled musket shook like a drunkard's arm against the panel; Starbuck seemed wrestling with an angel; but turning from the door, he placed the death-tube in its rack, and left the place.

'He's too sound asleep, Mr Stubb; go thou down, and wake him, and tell him. I must see to the deck here. Thou know'st what to say.'



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Chapter cxxiv
THE NEEDLE

Next morning the not-yet-subsided sea rolled in long slow billows of mighty bulk, and striving in the Pequod's gurgling track, pushed her on like giants' palms outspread. The strong, unstaggering breeze abounded so, that sky and air seemed vast outbellying sails; the whole world boomed before the wind. Muffled in the full morning light, the invisible sun was only known by the spread intensity of his place; where his bayonet


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rays moved on in stacks. Emblazonings, as of crowned Babylonian kings and queens, reigned over everything. The sea was as a crucible of molten gold, that bubblingly leaps with light and heat.

Long maintaining an enchanted silence, Ahab stood apart; and every time the tetering ship loweringly pitched down her bowsprit, he turned to eye the bright sun's rays produced ahead; and when she profoundly settled by the stern, he turned behind, and saw the sun's rearward place, and how the same yellow rays were blending with his undeviating wake.

'Ha, ha, my ship! thou mightest well be taken now for the sea-chariot of the sun. Ho, ho! all ye nations before my prow, I bring the sun to ye! Yoke on the further billows; hallo! a tandem, I drive the sea!'

But suddenly reined back by some counter thought, he hurried towards the helm, huskily demanding how the ship was heading.

'East-sou- east, Sir,' said the frightened steersman.

'Thou liest!' smiting him with his clenched fist. 'Heading East at this hour in the morning, and the sun astern?'

Upon this every soul was confounded; for the phenomenon just then observed by Ahab had unaccountably escaped every one else; but its very blinding palpableness must have been the cause.

Thrusting his head half way into the binnacle, Ahab caught one glimpse of the compasses; his uplifted arm slowly fell; for a moment he almost seemed to stagger. Standing behind him Starbuck looked, and lo! the two compasses pointed East, and the Pequod was as infallibly going West.

But ere the first wild alarm could get out abroad among the crew, the old man with a rigid laugh exclaimed, 'I have it! It has happened before. Mr. Starbuck, last night's thunder turned our compasses -- that's all. Thou hast before now heard of such a thing, I take it.'

'Aye; but never before has it happened to me, Sir, said the pale mate, gloomily.

Here, it must needs be said, that accidents like this have in more than one case occurred to ships in violent storms. The


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magnetic energy, as developed in the mariner's needle, is, as all know, essentially one with the electricity beheld in heaven; hence it is not to be much marvelled at, that such things should be. In instances where the lightning has actually struck the vessel, so as to smite down some of the spars and rigging, the effect upon the needle has at times been still more fatal; all its loadstone virtue being annihilated, so that the before magnetic steel was of no more use than an old wife's knitting needle. But in either case, the needle never again, of itself, recovers the original virtue thus marred or lost; and if the binnacle compasses be affected, the same fate reaches all the others that may be in the ship; even were the lowermost one inserted into the kelson.

Deliberately standing before the binnacle, and eyeing the transpointed compasses, the old man, with the sharp of his extended hand, now took the precise bearing of the sun, and satisfied that the needles were exactly inverted, shouted out his orders for the ship's course to be changed accordingly. The yards were hard up; and once more the Pequod thrust her undaunted bows into the opposing wind, for the supposed fair one had only been juggling her.

Meanwhile, whatever were his own secret thoughts, Starbuck said nothing, but quietly he issued all requisite orders; while Stubb and Flask -- who in some small degree seemed then to be sharing his feelings -- likewise unmurmuringly acquiesced. As for the men, though some of them lowly rumbled, their fear of Ahab was greater than their fear of Fate. But as ever before, the pagan harpooneers remained almost wholly unimpressed; or if impressed, it was only with a certain magnetism shot into their congenial hearts from inflexible Ahab's.

For a space the old man walked the deck in rolling reveries. But chancing to slip with his ivory heel, he saw the crushed copper sight-tubes of the quadrant he had the day before dashed to the deck.

'Thou poor, proud heaven-gazer and sun's pilot! yesterday I wrecked thee, and to- day the compasses would feign have wrecked me. So, so. But Ahab is lord over the level load-stone


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yet. Mr. Starbuck -- a lance without a pole; a top-maul, and the smallest of the sail-maker's needles. Quick!

Accessory, perhaps, to the impulse dictating the thing he was now about to do, were certain prudential motives, whose object might have been to revive the spirits of his crew by a stroke of his subtile skill, in a matter so wondrous as that of the inverted compasses. Besides, the old man well knew that to steer by transpointed needles, though clumsily practicable, was not a thing to be passed over by superstitious sailors, without some shudderings and evil portents.

'Men,' said he, steadily turning upon the crew, as the mate handed him the things he had demanded, 'my men, the thunder turned old Ahab's needles; but out of this bit of steel Ahab can make one of his own, that will point as true as any.'

Abashed glances of servile wonder were exchanged by the sailors, as this was said; and with fascinated eyes they awaited whatever magic might follow. But Starbuck looked away.

With a blow from the top-maul Ahab knocked off the steel head of the lance, and then handing to the mate the long iron rod remaining, bade him hold it upright, without its touching the deck. Then, with the maul, after repeatedly smiting the upper end of this iron rod, he placed the blunted needle endwise on the top of it, and less strongly hammered that, several times, the mate still holding the rod as before. Then going through some small strange motions with it -- whether indispensable to the magnetizing of the steel, or merely intended to augment the awe of the crew, is uncertain -- he called for linen thread; and moving to the binnacle, slipped out the two reversed needles there, and horizontally suspended the sail-needle by its middle, over one of the compass-cards. At first, the steel went round and round, quivering and vibrating at either end; but at last it settled to its place, when Ahab, who had been intently watching for this result, stepped frankly back from the binnacle, and pointing his stretched arm towards it, exclaimed, -- 'Look ye, for yourselves, if Ahab be not the lord of the level loadstone! The sun is East, and that compass swears it!'

One after another they peered in, for nothing but their own


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eyes could persuade such ignorance as theirs, and one after another they slunk away.

In his fiery eyes of scorn and triumph, you then saw Ahab in all his fatal pride.



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Chapter cxxv
THE LOG AND LINE

While now the fated Pequod had been so long afloat this voyage, the log and line had but very seldom been in use. Owing to a confident reliance upon other means of determining the vessel's place, some merchantmen, and many whalemen, especially when cruising, wholly neglect to heave the log; though at the same time, and frequently more for form's sake than anything else, regularly putting down upon the customary slate the course steered by the ship, as well as the presumed average rate of progression every hour. It had been thus with the Pequod. The wooden reel and angular log attached hung, long untouched, just beneath the railing of the after bulwarks. Rains and spray had damped it; the sun and wind had warped it; all the elements had combined to rot a thing that hung so idly. But heedless of all this, his mood seized Ahab, as he happened to glance upon the reel, not many hours after the magnet scene, and he remembered how his quadrant was no more, and recalled his frantic oath about the level log and line. The ship was sailing plungingly; astern the billows rolled in riots. 'Forward, there! Heave the log!'

Two seamen came. The golden-hued Tahitian and the grizzly Manxman. 'Take the reel, one of ye, I'll heave.'

They went towards the extreme stern, on the ship's lee side, where the deck, with the oblique energy of the wind, was now almost dipping into the creamy, sidelong-rushing sea.

The Manxman took the reel, and holding it high up, by the projecting handle-ends of the spindle, round which the spool


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of line revolved, so stood with the angular log hanging downwards, till Ahab advanced to him.

Ahab stood before him, and was lightly unwinding some thirty or forty turns to form a preliminary hand-coil to toss overboard, when the old Manxman, who was intently eyeing both him and the line, made bold to speak.

'Sir, I mistrust it; this line looks far gone, long heat and wet have spoiled it.'

''Twill hold, old gentleman. Long heat and wet, have they spoiled thee? Thou seem'st to hold. Or, truer perhaps, life holds thee; not thou it.'

'I hold the spool, Sir. But just as my captain says. With these grey hairs of mine 'tis not worth while disputing, 'specially with a superior, who'll ne'er confess.'

'What's that? There now's a patched professor in Queen Nature's granite-founded College; but methinks he's too subservient. Where wert thou born?'

'In the little rocky Isle of Man, Sir.'

'Excellent! Thou'st hit the world by that.'

'I know not, Sir, but I was born there.'

'In the Isle of Man, hey? Well, the other way, it's good. Here's a man from Man; a man born in once independent Man, and now unmanned of Man; which is sucked in -- by what? Up with the reel! The dead, blind wall butts all inquiring heads at last. Up with it! So.'

The log was heaved. The loose coils rapidly straightened out in a long dragging line astern, and then, instantly, the reel began to whirl. In turn, jerkingly raised and lowered by the rolling billows, the towing resistance of the log caused the old reelman to stagger strangely.

'Hold hard!'

Snap! the overstrained line sagged down in one long festoon; the tugging log was gone.

'I crush the quadrant, the thunder turns the needles, and now the mad sea parts the log-line. But Ahab can mend all. Haul in here, Tahitian; reel up, Manxman. And look ye, let the carpenter make another log, and mend thou the line. See to it.'


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'There he goes now; to him nothing's happened; but to me, the skewer seems loosening out of the middle of the world. Haul in, haul in, Tahitian! These lines run whole, and whirling out: come in broken, and dragging slow. Ha, Pip? come to help; eh, Pip?'

'Pip? whom call ye Pip? Pip jumped from the whale-boat. pip's missing. let's see now if ye haven't fished him up here, fisherman. It drags hard; I guess he's holding on. Jerk him, Tahiti! Jerk him off; we haul in no cowards here. Ho! there's his arm just breaking water. A hatchet! a hatchet! cut it off -- we haul in no cowards here. Captain Ahab! Sir, Sir! here's Pip, trying to get on board again.'

'Peace, thou crazy loon,' cried the Manxman, seizing him by the arm. 'Away from the quarter- deck!'

'The greater idiot ever scolds the lesser,' muttered Ahab, advancing. 'Hands off from that holiness! Where sayest thou Pip was, boy?'

'Astern there, Sir, astern! Lo, lo!'

'And who art thou, boy? I see not my reflection in the vacant pupils of thy eyes. Oh God! that man should be a thing for immortal souls to sieve through! Who art thou, boy?'

'Bell-boy, Sir; ship's-crier; ding, dong, ding! Pip! Pip! Pip! One hundred pounds of clay reward for Pip; five feet high -- looks cowardly -- quickest known by that! Ding, dong, ding! Who's seen Pip the coward?'

'There can be no hearts above the snow-line. Oh, ye frozen heavens! look down here. Ye did beget this luckless child, and have abandoned him, ye creative libertines. Here, boy; Ahab's cabin shall be Pip's home henceforth, while Ahab lives. Thou touchest my inmost centre, boy; thou art tied to me by cords woven of my heart- strings. Come, let's down.'

'What's this? here's velvet shark-skin, intently gazing at Ahab's hand, and feeling it. Ah, now, had poor Pip but felt so kind a thing as this, perhaps he had ne'er been lost! This seems to me, Sir, as a man-rope; something that weak souls may hold by. Oh, Sir, let old Perth now come and rivet these two hands together; the black one with the white, for I will not let this go.'


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'Oh, boy, nor will I thee, unless I should thereby drag thee to worse horrors than are here. come, then, to my cabin. Lo! ye believers in gods all goodness, and in man all ill, lo you! see the omniscient gods oblivious of suffering man; and man, though idiotic, and knowing not what he does, yet full of the sweet things of love and gratitude. Come! I feel prouder leading thee by thy black hand, than though I grasped an Emperor's!'

'There go two daft ones now, muttered the old Manxman. One daft with strength, the other daft with weakness. But here's the end of the rotten line -- all dripping, too. Mend it, eh? I think we had best have a new line altogether. I'll see Mr. Stubb about it.'



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Chapter cxxvi
THE LIFE-BUOY

Steering now south-eastward by Ahab's levelled steel, and her progress solely determined by Ahab's level log and line; the Pequod held on her path towards the Equator. Making so long a passage through such unfrequented waters, descrying no ships, and ere long, sideways impelled by unvarying trade winds, over waves monotonously mild; all these seemed the strange calm things preluding some riotous and desperate scene.

At last, when the ship drew near to the outskirts, as it were, of the Equatorial fishing-ground, and in the deep darkness that goes before the dawn, was sailing by a cluster of rocky islets; the watch -- then headed by Flask -- was startled by a cry so plaintively wild and unearthly -- like half-articulated wailings of the ghosts of all Herod's murdered Innocents -- that one and all, they started from their reveries, and for the space of some moments stood, or sat, or leaned all transfixedly listening, like the carved Roman slave, while that wild cry remained within hearing. The Christian or civilized part of the crew said it was mermaids, and shuddered; but the pagan harpooneers remained


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unappalled. Yet the grey Manxman -- the oldest mariner of all -- declared that the wild thrilling sounds that were heard, were the voices of newly drowned men in the sea.

Below in his hammock, Ahab did not hear of this till grey dawn, when he came to the deck; it was then recounted to him by Flask, not unaccompanied with hinted dark meanings. He hollowly laughed, and thus explained the wonder.

Those rocky islands the ship had passed were the resort of great numbers of seals, and some young seals that had lost their dams, or some dams that had lost their cubs, must have risen nigh the ship and kept company with her, crying and sobbing with their human sort of wail. But this only the more affected some of them, because most mariners cherish a very superstitious feeling about seals, arising not only from their peculiar tones when in distress, but also from the human look of their round heads and semi-intelligent faces, seen peeringly uprising from the water alongside. In the sea, under certain circumstances, seals have more than once been mistaken for men.

But the bodings of the crew were destined to receive a most plausible confirmation in the fate of one of their number that morning. At sun-rise this man went from his hammock to his mast-head at the fore; and whether it was that he was not yet half waked from his sleep (for sailors sometimes go aloft in a transition state), whether it was thus with the man, there is now no telling; but, be that as it may, he had not been long at his perch, when a cry was heard -- a cry and a rushing -- and looking up, they saw a falling phantom in the air; and looking down, a little tossed heap of white bubbles in the blue of the sea.

The life-buoy -- a long slender cask -- was dropped from the stern, where it always hung obedient to a cunning spring; but no hand rose to seize it, and the sun having long beat upon this cask it had shrunken, so that it slowly filled, and the parched wood also filled at its every pore; and the studded iron- bound cask followed the sailor to the bottom, as if to yield him his pillow, though in sooth but a hard one.

And thus the first man of the pequod that mounted the mast to look out for the White Whale, on the White Whale's own


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peculiar ground; that man was swallowed up in the deep. But few, perhaps, thought of that at the time. Indeed, in some sort, they were not grieved at this event, at least as a portent; for they regarded it, not as a foreshadowing of evil in the future, but as the fulfilment of an evil already presaged. They declared that now they knew the reason of those wild shrieks they had heard the night before. But again the old Manxman said nay.

The lost life-buoy was now to be replaced; Starbuck was directed to see to it; but as no cask of sufficient lightness could be found, and as in the feverish eagerness of what seemed the approaching crisis of the voyage, all hands were impatient of any toil but what was directly connected with its final end, whatever that might prove to be; therefore, they were going to leave the ship's stern unprovided with a buoy, when by certain strange signs and inuendoes Queequeg hinted a hint concerning his coffin.

'A life-buoy of a coffin!' cried Starbuck, starting.

'Rather queer, that, I should say,' said Stubb.

'It will make a good enough one,' said Flask, 'the carpenter here can arrange it easily.'

'Bring it up; there's nothing else for it,' said Starbuck, after a melancholy pause. 'Rig it, carpenter; do not look at me so -- the coffin, I mean. Dost thou hear me? Rig it.'

'And shall I nail down the lid, Sir?' moving his hand as with a hammer.

'Aye.'

'And shall I caulk the seams, Sir?' moving his hand as with a caulking-iron.

'Aye.'

'And shall I then pay over the same with pitch, Sir?' moving his hand as with a pitch- pot.

'Away! What possesses thee to this? Make a life-buoy of the coffin, and no more. -- Mr. Stubb, Mr. Flask, come forward with me.'

'He goes off in a huff. The whole he can endure; at the parts he baulks. Now I don't like this. I make a leg for Captain Ahab, and he wears it like a gentleman; but I make a bandbox for Queequeg, and he wont put his head into it. Are


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all my pains to go for nothing with that coffin? And now I'm ordered to make a life-buoy of it. It's like turning an old coat; going to bring the flesh on the other side now. I don't like this cobbling sort of business -- I don't like it at all; it's undignified; it's not my place. Let tinkers' brats do tinkerings; we are their betters. I like to take in hand none but clean, virgin, fair-and-square mathematical jobs, something that regularly begins at the beginning, and is at the middle when midway, and comes to an end at the conclusion; not a cobbler's job, that's at an end in the middle, and at the beginning at the end. It's the old woman's tricks to be giving cobbling jobs. Lord! what an affection all old women have for tinkers. I know an old woman of sixty-five who ran away with a bald-headed young tinker once. And that's the reason I never would work for lonely widow old women ashore, when I kept my job-shop in the Vineyard; they might have taken it into their lonely old heads to run off with me. But heigh-ho! there are no caps at sea but snow-caps. Let me see. Nail down the lid; caulk the seams; pay over the same with pitch; batten them down tight, and hang it with the snap-spring over the ship's stern. Were ever such things done before with a coffin? Some superstitious old carpenters, now, would be tied up in the rigging, ere they would do the job. But I'm made of knotty Aroostook hemlock; I don't budge. Cruppered with a coffin! Sailing about with a grave-yard tray! But never mind. We workers in woods make bridal-bedsteads and card-tables, as well as coffins and hearses. We work by the month, or by the job, or by the profit; not for us to ask the why and wherefore of our work, unless it be too confounded cobbling, and then we stash it if we can. hem! I'll do the job, now, tenderly. I'll have me -- let's see -- how many in the ship's company, all told? But I've forgotten. Any way, I'll have me thirty separate, Turk's- headed life-lines, each three feet long hanging all round to the coffin. Then, if the hull go down, there'll be thirty lively fellows all fighting for one coffin, a sight not seen very often beneath the sun! Come hammer, calking-iron, pitch-pot, and marling-spike! Let's to it.'




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Chapter cxxvii
THE DECK

The coffin laid upon two line-tubs, between the vice-bench and the open hatchway; the Carpenter calking its seams; the string of twisted oakum slowly unwinding from a large roll of it placed in the bosom of his frock. -- Ahab comes slowly from the cabin- gangway, and hears Pip following him.

' Back, lad; I will be with ye again presently. He goes! Not this hand complies with my humor more genially than that boy. -- Middle aisle of a church! What's here?'

'Life buoy, Sir. Mr. Starbuck's orders. Oh, look, Sir! Beware the hatchway!'

'Thank ye, man. Thy coffin lies handy to the vault.'

'Sir? The hatchway? oh! So it does, Sir, so it does.'

'Art not thou the leg-maker? Look, did not this stump come from thy shop?'

'I believe it did, Sir; does the ferrule stand, Sir?'

'Well enough. But art thou not also the undertaker?'

'Aye, Sir; I patched up this thing here as a coffin for Queequeg; but they've set me now to turning it into something else.'

'Then tell me; art thou not an arrant, all-grasping, inter-meddling, monopolizing, heathenish old scamp, to be one day making legs, and the next day coffins to clap them in, and yet again life-buoys out of those same coffins? Thou art as unprincipled as the gods, and as much of a jack-of-all- trades.'

'But I do not mean anything, Sir. I do as I do.'

'The gods again. hark ye, dost thou not ever sing working about a coffin? The Titans, they say, hummed snatches when chipping out the craters for volcanoes; and the grave-digger in the play sings, spade in hand. Dost thou never?'

'Sing, Sir? Do I sing? Oh, I'm indifferent enough, Sir, for that; but the reason why the grave- digger made music must


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have been because there was none in his spade, Sir. But the calking mallet is full of it. Hark to it.'

'Aye, and that's because the lid there's a sounding- board; and what in all things makes the sounding-board is this -- there's naught beneath. And yet, a coffin with a body in it rings pretty much the same, Carpenter. Hast thou ever helped carry a bier, and heard the coffin knock against the churchyard gate, going in?'

'Faith, Sir, I've -- '

'Faith? What's that?'

'Why, faith, Sir, it's only a sort of exclamation-like -- that's all, Sir.'

'Um, um; go on.'

'I was about to say, Sir, that -- '

'Art thou a silk-worm? Dost thou spin thy own shroud out of thyself? Look at thy bosom! Despatch! and get these traps out of sight.'

'He goes aft. That was sudden, now; but squalls come sudden in hot latitudes. I've heard that the Isle of Albemarle, one of the Gallipagos, is cut by the Equator right in the middle. Seems to me some sort of Equator cuts yon old man, too, right in his middle. He's always under the Line -- fiery hot, I tell ye! He's looking this way -- come, oakum; quick. Here we go again. This wooden mallet is the cork, and I'm the professor of musical glasses -- tap, tap!'

Ahab to himself.

'There's a sight! There's sound! The greyheaded woodpecker tapping the hollow tree! Blind and dumb might well be envied now. See! that thing rests on two line-tubs, full of tow- lines. A most malicious wag, that fellow. Rat-tat! So man's seconds tick! Oh! how immaterial are all materials! What things real are there, but imponderable thoughts? Here now's the very dreaded symbol of grim death, by a mere hap, made the expressive sign of the help and hope of most endangered life. A life-buoy of a coffin! Does it go further? Can it be that in some spiritual sense the coffin is, after all, but an immortality-preserver! I'll think of that. But no. So far gone


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am I in the dark side of earth, that its other side, the theoretic bright one, seems but uncertain twilight to me. Will ye never have done, Carpenter, with that accursed sound? I go below; let me not see that thing here when I return again. Now, then, Pip, we'll talk this over; I do suck most wondrous philosophies from thee! Some unknown conduits from the unknown worlds must empty into thee!'




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Chapter cxxviii
THE PEQUOD MEETS THE RACHEL

Next day, a large ship, the Rachel, was descried, bearing directly down upon the Pequod, all her spars thickly clustering with men. At the time the Pequod was making good speed through the water; but as the broad-winged windward stranger shot nigh to her, the boastful sails all fell together as blank bladders that are burst, and all life fled from the smitten hull.

'Bad news; she brings bad news,' muttered the old Manxman. But ere her commander, who, with trumpet to mouth, stood up in his boat; ere he could hopefully hail, Ahab's voice was heard.

'Hast seen the White Whale?'

'Aye, yesterday. Have ye seen a whale-boat adrift?'

Throttling his joy, Ahab negatively answered this unexpected question; and would then have fain boarded the stranger, when the stranger captain himself, having stopped his vessel's way, was seen descending her side. A few keen pulls, and his boat-hook soon clinched the Pequod's main- chains, and he sprang to the deck. Immediately he was recognized by Ahab for a nantucketer he knew. But no formal salutation was exchanged.

'Where was he? -- not killed! -- not killed!' cried Ahab, closely advancing. 'How was it?'

It seemed that somewhat late on the afternoon of the day previous, while three of the stranger's boats were engaged with


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a shoal of whales, which had led them some four or five miles from the ship; and while they were yet in swift chase to windward, the white hump and head of Moby Dick had suddenly loomed up out of the blue water, not very far to leeward; whereupon, the fourth rigged boat -- a reserved one -- had been instantly lowered in chase. After a keen sail before the wind, this fourth boat -- the swiftest keeled of all -- seemed to have succeeded in fastening -- at least, as well as the man at the mast-head could tell anything about it. In the distance he saw the diminished dotted boat; and then a swift gleam of bubbling white water; and after that nothing more; whence it was concluded that the stricken whale must have indefinitely run away with his pursuers, as often happens. There was some apprehension, but no positive alarm, as yet. The recall signals were placed in the rigging; darkness came on; and forced to pick up her three far to windward boats -- ere going in quest of the fourth one in the precisely opposite direction -- the ship had not only been necessitated to leave that boat to its fate till near midnight, but, for the time, to increase her distance from it. But the rest of her crew being at last safe aboard, she crowded all sail -- stunsail on stunsail -- after the missing boat; kindling a fire in her try-pots for a beacon; and every other man aloft on the look-out. But though when she had thus sailed a sufficient distance to gain the presumed place of the absent ones when last seen; though she then paused to lower her spare boats to pull all around her; and not finding anything, had again dashed on; again paused, and lowered her boats; and though she had thus continued doing till day light; yet not the least glimpse of the missing keel had been seen.

The story told, the stranger Captain immediately went on to reveal his object in boarding the Pequod. He desired that ship to unite with his own in the search; by sailing over the sea some four or five miles apart, on parallel lines, and so sweeping a double horizon, as it were.

'I will wager something now,' whispered Stubb to Flask, 'that some one in that missing boat wore off that Captain's best coat; mayhap, his watch -- he's so cursed anxious to get it back. Who ever heard of two pious whale-ships cruising after


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one missing whale-boat in the height of the whaling season? See, Flask, only see how pale he looks -- pale in the very buttons of his eyes -- look -- it wasn't the coat -- it must have been the -- '

'My boy, my own boy is among them. For God's sake -- I beg, I conjure -- here exclaimed the stranger Captain to Ahab, who thus far had but icily received his petition. For eight-and-forty hours let me charter your ship -- I will gladly pay for it, and roundly pay for it -- if there be no other way -- for eight-and-forty hours only -- only that -- you must, oh, you must, and you shall do this thing.'

'His son!' cried Stubb, 'oh, it's his son he's lost! I take back the coat and watch -- what says Ahab? We must save that boy.'

'He's drowned with the rest on 'em, last night,' said the old Manx sailor standing behind them; 'I heard; all of ye heard their spirits.'

Now, as it shortly turned out, what made this incident of the Rachel's the more melancholy, was the circumstance, that not only was one of the Captain's sons among the number of the missing boat's crew; but among the number of the other boat's crews, at the same time, but on the other hand, separated from the ship during the dark vicissitudes of the chase, there had been still another son; as that for a time, the wretched father was plunged to the bottom of the cruellest perplexity; which was only solved for him by his chief mate's instinctively adopting the ordinary procedure of a whale-ship in such emergencies, that is, when placed between jeopardized but divided boats, always to pick up the majority first. But the captain, for some unknown constitutional reason, had refrained from mentioning all this, and not till forced to it by Ahab's iciness did he allude to his one yet missing boy; a little lad, but twelve years old, whose father with the earnest but unmisgiving hardihood of a Nantucketer's paternal love, had thus early sought to initiate him in the perils and wonders of a vocation almost immemorially the destiny of all his race. Nor does it unfrequently occur, that Nantucket captains will send a son of such tender age away from them, for a protracted three or four years' voyage in some other ship than their own; so that their first knowledge of a whaleman's career shall be unenervated by any chance display


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of a father's natural but untimely partiality, or undue apprehensiveness and concern.

Meantime, now the stranger was still beseeching his poor boon of Ahab; and Ahab still stood like an anvil, receiving every shock, but without the least quivering of his own.

'I will not go,' said the stranger, 'till you say aye to me. Do to me as you would have me do to you in the like case. For you too have a boy, Captain Ahab -- though but a child, and nestling safely at home now -- a child of your old age too -- Yes, yes, you relent; I see it -- run, run, men, now, and stand by to square in the yards.'

'Avast,' cried Ahab -- 'touch not a rope-yarn'; then in a voice that prolongingly moulded every word -- 'Captain Gardiner, I will not do it. Even now I lose time. Good bye, good bye. God bless ye, man, and may I forgive myself, but I must go. Mr. Starbuck, look at the binnacle watch, and in three minutes from this present instant warn off all strangers: then brace forward again, and let the ship sail as before.'

Hurriedly turning, with averted face, he descended into his cabin, leaving the strange captain transfixed at this unconditional and utter rejection of his so earnest suit. But starting from his enchantment, Gardiner silently hurried to the side; more fell than stepped into his boat, and returned to his ship.

Soon the two ships diverged their wakes; and long as the strange vessel was in view, she was seen to yaw hither and thither at every dark spot, however small, on the sea. This way and that her yards were swung round; starboard and larboard, she continued to tack; now she beat against a head sea; and again it pushed her before it; while all the while, her masts and yards were thickly clustered with men, as three tall cherry trees, when the boys are cherrying among the boughs.

But by her still halting course and winding, woful way, you plainly saw that this ship that so wept with spray, still remained without comfort. She was Rachel, weeping for her children, because they were not.



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Chapter cxxix
THE CABIN

Ahab moving to go on deck; Pip catches him by the hand to follow.

'Lad, lad, I tell thee thou must not follow Ahab now. The hour is coming when Ahab would not scare thee from him, yet would not have thee by him. There is that in thee, poor lad, which I feel too curing to my malady. Like cures like; and for this hunt, my malady becomes my most desired health. Do thou abide below here, where they shall serve thee, as if thou wert the captain. Aye, lad, thou shalt sit here in my own screwed chair; another screw to it, thou must be.'

'No, no, no! ye have not a whole body, Sir; do ye but use poor me for your one lost leg; only tread upon me, Sir; I ask no more, so I remain a part of ye.'

'Oh! spite of million villains, this makes me a bigot in the fadeless fidelity of man! -- and a black! and crazy! -- but methinks like-cures-like applies to him too; he grows so sane again.'

'They tell me, Sir, that Stubb did once desert poor little Pip, whose drowned bones now show white, for all the blackness of his living skin. But I will never desert ye, Sir, as Stubb did him. Sir, I must go with ye.'

'If thou speakest thus to me much more, Ahab's purpose keels up in him. I tell thee no; it cannot be.'

'Oh good master, master, master!'

'Weep so, and I will murder thee! have a care, for Ahab too is mad. Listen, and thou wilt often hear my ivory foot upon the deck, and still know that I am there. And now I quit thee. Thy hand! -- Met! True art thou, lad, as the circumference to its centre. So: God for ever bless thee; and if it come to that, -- God for ever save thee, let what will befall.'


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Ahab goes; Pip steps one step forward.

'Here he this instant stood; I stand in his air, -- but I'm alone. Now were even poor Pip here I could endure it, but he's missing. Pip! Pip! Ding, dong, ding! Who's seen Pip? He must be up here; let's try the door. What? neither lock, nor bolt, nor bar; and yet there's no opening it. It must be the spell; he told me to stay here: Aye, and told me this screwed chair was mine. Here, then, I'll seat me, against the transom, in the ship's full middle, all her keel and her three masts before me. Here, our old sailors say, in their black seventy-fours great admirals sometimes sit at table, and lord it over rows of captains and lieutenants. Ha! what's this? epaulets! epaulets! the epaulets all come crowding! Pass round the decanters; glad to see ye; fill up, monsieurs! What an odd feeling, now, when a black boy's host to white men with gold lace upon their coats! -- Monsieurs, have ye seen one Pip? -- a little negro lad, five feet high, hang-dog look, and cowardly! Jumped from a whale-boat once; -- seen him? No! Well then, fill up again, captains, and let's drink shame upon all cowards! I name no names. Shame upon them! Put one foot upon the table. Shame upon all cowards. -- Hist! above there, I hear ivory -- Oh, master, master! I am indeed down-hearted when you walk over me. But here I'll stay, though this stern strikes rocks; and they bulge through; and oysters come to join me.'
Chapter cxxx
THE HAT

And now that at the proper time and place, after so long and wide a preliminary cruise, Ahab, -- all other whaling waters swept -- seemed to have chased his foe into an ocean-fold, to slay him the more securely there; now, that he found himself hard by the very latitude and longitude where his tormenting wound


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had been inflicted; now that a vessel had been spoken which on the very day preceding had actually encountered Moby Dick; -- and now that all his successive meetings with various ships contrastingly concurred to show the demoniac indifference with which the white whale tore his hunters, whether sinning or sinned against; now it was that there lurked a something in the old man's eyes, which it was hardly sufferable for feeble souls to see. As the unsetting polar star, which through the livelong, arctic, six months' night sustains its piercing, steady, central gaze; so Ahab's purpose now fixedly gleamed down upon the constant midnight of the gloomy crew. It domineered above them so, that all their bodings, doubts, misgivings, fears, were fain to hide beneath their souls, and not sprout forth a single spear or leaf.

In this foreshadowing interval too, all humor, forced or natural, vanished. Stubb no more strove to raise a smile; Starbuck no more strove to check one. Alike, joy and sorrow, hope and fear, seemed ground to finest dust, and powdered, for the time, in the clamped mortar of Ahab's iron soul. like machines, they dumbly moved about the deck, ever conscious that the old man's despot eye was on them.

But did you deeply scan him in his more secret confidential hours; when he thought no glance but one was on him; then you would have seen that even as Ahab's eyes so awed the crew's, the inscrutable Parsee's glance awed his; or somehow, at least, in some wild way, at times affected it. Such an added, gliding strangeness began to invest the thin Fedallah now; such ceaseless shudderings shook him; that the men looked dubious at him; half uncertain, as it seemed, whether indeed he were a mortal substance, or else a tremulous shadow cast upon the deck by some unseen being's body. And that shadow was always hovering there. For not by night, even, had Fedallah ever certainly been known to slumber, or go below. He would stand still for hours: but never sat or leaned; his wan but wondrous eyes did plainly say -- We two watchmen never rest.

Now, at any time, by night or day could the mariners now step up the deck, unless Ahab was before them; either standing in his pivot-hole, or exactly pacing the planks between two


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undeviating limits, -- the main-mast and the mizen; or else they saw him standing in the cabin-scuttle, -- his living foot advanced upon the deck, as if to step; his hat slouched heavily over his eyes; so that however motionless he stood, however the days and nights were added on, that he had not swung in his hammock; yet hidden beneath that slouching hat, they could never tell unerringly whether, for all this, his eyes were really closed at times; or whether he was still intently scanning them; no matter, though he stood so in the scuttle for a whole hour on the stretch, and the unheeded night-damp gathered in beads of dew upon that stone-carved coat and hat. The clothes that the night had wet, the next day's sunshine dried upon him; and so, day after day, and night after night; he went no more beneath the planks; whatever he wanted from the cabin that thing he sent for.

He ate in the same open air; that is, his two only meals, -- breakfast and dinner: supper he never touched; nor reaped his beard; which darkly grew all gnarled, as unearthed roots of trees blown over, which still grow idly on at naked base, though perished in the upper verdure. But though his whole life was now become one watch on deck; and though the Parsee's mystic watch was without intermission as his own; yet these two never seemed to speak -- one man to the other -- unless at long intervals some passing unmomentous matter made it necessary. Though such a potent spell seemed secretly to join the twain; openly, and to the awe-struck crew, they seemed pole-like asunder. If by day they chanced to speak one word; by night, dumb men were both, so far as concerned the slightest verbal interchange. At times, for longest hours, without a single hail, they stood far parted in the starlight; Ahab in his scuttle, the Parsee by the mainmast; but still fixedly gazing upon each other; as if in the Parsee Ahab saw his forethrown shadow, in Ahab the Parsee his abandoned substance.

And yet, somehow, did Ahab -- in his own proper self, as daily, hourly, and every instant, commandingly revealed to his subordinates, -- Ahab seemed an independent lord; the Parsee but his slave. Still again both seemed yoked together, and an unseen


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tyrant driving them; the lean shade siding the solid rib. For be this Parsee what he may, all rib and keel was solid Ahab.

At the first faintest glimmering of the dawn, his iron voice was heard from aft -- 'Man the mast-heads!' -- and all through the day, till after sunset and after twilight, the same voice every hour, at the striking of the helmsman's bell, was heard -- 'What d'ye see? -- sharp! sharp!'

But when three or four days had slided by, after meeting the children- seeking Rachel; and no spout had yet been seen; the monomaniac old man seemed distrustful of his crew's fidelity; at least, of nearly all except the Pagan harpooneers; he seemed to doubt, even, whether Stubb and Flask might not willingly overlook the sight he sought. But if these suspicions were really his, he sagaciously refrained from verbally expressing them, however his actions might seem to hint them.

'I will have the first sight of the whale myself,' -- he said. 'Aye! Ahab must have the doubloon!' and with his own hands he rigged a nest of basketed bowlines; and sending a hand aloft, with a single sheaved block, to secure to the main-mast head, he received the two ends of the downward-reeved rope; and attaching one to his basket prepared a pin for the other end, in order to fasten it at the rail. This done, with that end yet in his hand and standing beside the pin, he looked round upon his crew, sweeping from one to the other; pausing his glance long upon Daggoo, Queequeg, Tashtego; but shunning Fedallah; and then settling his firm relying eye upon the chief mate, said, -- 'Take the rope, Sir -- I give it into thy hands, Starbuck.' Then arranging his person in the basket, he gave the word for them to hoist him to his perch, Starbuck being the one who secured the rope at last; and afterwards stood near it. And thus, with one hand clinging round the royal mast, Ahab gazed abroad upon the sea for miles and miles, -- ahead, astern, this side, and that, -- within the wide expanded circle commanded at so great a height.

When in working with his hands at some lofty almost isolated place in the rigging, which chances to afford no foothold, the sailor at sea is hoisted up to that spot, and sustained there by


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the rope; under these circumstances, its fastened end on deck is always given in strict charge to some one man who has the special watch of it. Because in such a wilderness of running rigging, whose various different relations aloft cannot always be infallibly discerned by what is seen of them at the deck; and when the deck-ends of these ropes are being every few minutes cast down from the fastenings, it would be but a natural fatality, if, unprovided with a constant watchman, the hoisted sailor should by some carelessness of the crew be cast adrift and fall all swooping to the sea. So Ahab's proceedings in this matter were not unusual; the only strange thing about them seemed to be, that Starbuck, almost the one only man who had ever ventured to oppose him with anything in the slightest degree approaching to decision -- one of those too, whose faithfulness on the look-out he had seemed to doubt somewhat; -- it was strange, that this was the very man he should select for his watchman; freely giving his whole life into such an otherwise distrusted person's hands.

Now, the first time Ahab was perched aloft; ere he had been there ten minutes; one of those red-billed savage sea-hawks which so often fly incommodiously close round the manned mast-heads of whalemen in these latitudes; one of these birds came wheeling and screaming round his head in a maze of untrackably swift circlings. Then it darted a thousand feet straight up into the air; then spiralized downwards, and went eddying again round his head.

But with his gaze fixed upon the dim and distant horizon, Ahab seemed not to mark this wild bird; nor, indeed, would any one else have marked it much, it being no uncommon circumstance; only now almost the least heedful eye seemed to see some sort of cunning meaning in almost every sight.

'Your hat, your hat, Sir!' suddenly cried the Sicilian seaman, who being posted at the mizen-mast- head, stood directly behind Ahab, though somewhat lower than his level, and with a deep gulf of air dividing them.

But already the sable wing was before the old man's eyes; the long hooked bill at his head: with a scream, the black hawk darted away with his prize.


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An eagle flew thrice round Tarquin's head, removing his cap to replace it, and thereupon Tanaquil, his wife, declared that Tarquin would be king of Rome. But only by the replacing of the cap was that omen accounted good. Ahab's hat was never restored; the wild hawk flew on and on with it; far in advance of the prow: and at last disappeared; while from the point of that disappearance, a minute black spot was dimly discerned, falling from that vast height into the sea.



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Chapter cxxxi
THE PEQUOD MEETS THE DELIGHT

The intense Pequod sailed on; the rolling waves and days went by; the life-buoy-coffin still lightly swung; and another ship, most miserably misnamed the Delight, was descried. As she drew nigh, all eyes were fixed upon her broad beams, called shears, which, in some whaling-ships, cross the quarter-deck at the height of eight or nine feet; serving to carry the spare, unrigged, or disabled boats.

Upon the stranger's shears were beheld the shattered, white ribs, and some few splintered planks, of what had once been a whale-boat; but you now saw through this wreck, as plainly as you see through the peeled, half-unhinged, and bleaching skeleton of a horse.

'Hast seen the White Whale?'

'Look!' replied the hollow- cheeked captain from his taffrail; and with his trumpet he pointed to the wreck.

'Hast killed him?'

'The harpoon is not yet forged that will ever do that,' answered the other, sadly glancing upon a rounded hammock on the deck, whose gathered sides some noiseless sailors were busy in sewing together.

'Not forged!' and snatching Perth's levelled iron from the crotch, Ahab held it out, exclaiming -- 'Look ye, Nantucketer;


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here in this hand I hold his death! Tempered in blood, and tempered by lightning are these barbs; and I swear to temper them triply in that hot place behind the fin, where the white whale most feels his accursed life!'

'Then God keep thee, old man -- see'st thou that' -- pointing to the hammock -- 'I bury but one of five stout men, who were alive only yesterday; but were dead ere night. Only that one I bury; the rest were buried before they died; you sail upon their tomb.' Then turning to his crew -- 'Are ye ready there? place the plank then on the rail, and lift the body; so, then -- Oh! God' -- advancing towards the hammock with uplifted hands -- may the resurrection and the life -- '

'Brace forward! Up helm!' cried Ahab like lightning to his men.

But the suddenly started Pequod was not quick enough to escape the sound of the splash that the corpse soon made as it struck the sea; not so quick, indeed, but that some of the flying bubbles might have sprinkled her hull with their ghostly baptism.

As Ahab now glided from the dejected Delight, the strange life-buoy hanging at the Pequod's stern came into conspicuous relief.

'Ha! yonder! look yonder, men!' cried a foreboding voice in her wake. 'In vain, oh, ye strangers, ye fly our sad burial; ye but turn us your taffrail to show us your coffin!'



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Chapter cxxxii
THE SYMPHONY

It was a clear steel-blue day. The firmaments of air and sea were hardly separable in that all-pervading azure; only, the pensive air was transparently pure and soft, with a woman's look, and the robust and man-like sea heaved with long, strong, lingering swells, as Samson's chest in his sleep.


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Hither, and thither, on high, glided the snow-white wings of small, unspeckled birds; these were the gentle thoughts of the feminine air; but to and fro in the deeps, far down in the bottomless blue, rushed mighty leviathans, sword-fish, and sharks; and these were the strong, troubled, murderous thinkings of the masculine sea.

But though thus contrasting within, the contrast was only in shades and shadows without; those two seemed one; it was only the sex, as it were, that distinguished them.

Aloft, like a royal czar and king, the sun seemed giving this gentle air to this bold and rolling sea; even as bride to groom. And at the girdling line of the horizon, a soft and tremulous motion -- most seen here at the equator -- denoted the fond, throbbing trust, the loving alarms, with which the poor bride gave her bosom away.

Tied up and twisted; gnarled and knotted with wrinkles; haggardly firm and unyielding; his eyes glowing like coals, that still glow in the ashes of ruin; untottering Ahab stood forth in the clearness of the morn; lifting his splintered helmet of a brow to the fair girl's forehead of heaven.

Oh, immortal infancy, and innocency of the azure! Invisible winged creatures that frolic all round us! Sweet childhood of air and sky! how oblivious were ye of old Ahab's close-coiled woe! But so have I seen little Miriam and Martha, laughing-eyed elves, heedlessly gambol around their old sire; sporting with the circle of singed locks which grew on the marge of that burnt-out crater of his brain.

Slowly crossing the deck from the scuttle, Ahab leaned over the side, and watched how his shadow in the water sank and sank to his gaze, the more and the more that he strove to pierce the profundity. But the lovely aromas in that enchanted air did at last seem to dispel, for a moment, the cankerous thing in his soul. That glad, happy air, that winsome sky, did at last stroke and caress him; the step-mother world, so long cruel -- forbidding -- now threw affectionate arms round his stubborn neck, and did seem to joyously sob over him, as if over one, that however wilful and erring, she could yet find it in her


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heart to save and to bless. From beneath his slouched hat Ahab dropped a tear into the sea; nor did all the pacific contain such wealth as that one wee drop.

Starbuck saw the old man; saw him, how he heavily leaned over the side; and he seemed to hear in his own true heart the measureless sobbing that stole out of the centre of the serenity around. Careful not to touch him, or be noticed by him, he yet drew near to him, and stood there.

Ahab turned.

'Starbuck!'

'Sir.'

'Oh, Starbuck! it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky. On such a day -- very much such a sweetness as this -- I struck my first whale -- a boy-harpooneer of eighteen! Forty -- forty -- forty years ago! -- ago! Forty years of continual whaling! forty years of privation, and peril, and storm-time! forty years on the pitiless sea! for forty years has Ahab forsaken the peaceful land, for forty years to make war on the horrors of the deep! Aye and yes, Starbuck, out of those forty years I have not spent three ashore. When I think of this life I have led; the desolation of solitude it has been; the masoned, walled-town of a Captain's exclusiveness, which admits but small entrance to any sympathy from the green country without -- oh, weariness! heaviness! Guinea-coast slavery of solitary command! -- when I think of all this; only half-suspected, not so keenly known to me before -- and how for forty years I have fed upon dry salted fare -- fit emblem of the dry nourishment of my soul -- when the poorest landsman has had fresh fruit to his daily hand, and broken the world's fresh bread to my mouldy crusts -- away, whole oceans away, from that young girl-wife I wedded past fifty, and sailed for Cape Horn the next day, leaving but one dent in my marriage pillow -- wife? wife? -- rather a widow with her husband alive! Aye, I widowed that poor girl when I married her, Starbuck; and then, the madness, the frenzy, the boiling blood and the smoking brow, with which, for a thousand lowerings old Ahab has furiously, foamingly chased his prey -- more a demon than a man! -- aye, aye! what a forty years' fool -- fool -- old fool, has old Ahab been! Why this strife of the chase? why weary,


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and palsy the arm at the oar, and the iron, and the lance? how the richer or better is Ahab now? Behold. Oh, Starbuck! is it not hard, that with this weary load I bear, one poor leg should have been snatched from under me? Here, brush this old hair aside; it blinds me, that I seem to weep. Locks so grey did never grow but from out some ashes! But do I look very old, so very, very old, Starbuck? I feel deadly faint, bowed, and humped, as though I were Adam, staggering beneath the piled centuries since Paradise. God! God! God! -- crack my heart! -- stave my brain! -- mockery! mockery! bitter, biting mockery of grey hairs, have I lived enough joy to wear ye; and seem and feel thus intolerably old? Close! stand close to me, Starbuck; let me look into a human eye; it is better than to gaze into sea or sky; better than to gaze upon God. By the green land; by the bright hearth-stone! this is the magic glass, man; I see my wife and my child in thine eye. No, no; stay on board, on board! -- lower not when I do; when branded Ahab gives chase to Moby Dick. That hazard shall not be thine. No, no! not with the far away home I see in that eye!'

'Oh, my Captain! my Captain! noble soul! grand old heart, after all! why should any one give chase to that hated fish! Away with me! let us fly these deadly waters! let us home! Wife and child, too, are Starbuck's -- wife and child of his brotherly, sisterly, play-fellow youth; even as thine, Sir, are the wife and child of thy loving, longing, paternal old age! Away! let us away! -- this instant let me alter the course! How cheerily, how hilariously, O my Captain, would we bowl on our way to see old Nantucket again! I think, Sir, they have some such mild blue days, even as this, in Nantucket.'

'They have, they have. I have seen them -- some summer days in the morning. About this time -- yes, it is his noon nap now -- the boy vivaciously wakes; sits up in bed; and his mother tells him of me, of cannibal old me; how I am abroad upon the deep, but will yet come back to dance him again.'

'Tis my Mary, my Mary herself! She promised that my boy, every morning, should be carried to the hill to catch the first glimpse of his father's sail! Yes, yes! no more! it is done! we head for Nantucket! Come, my Captain, study out the course,


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and let us away! See, see! the boy's face from the window! the boy's hand on the hill!'

But Ahab's glance was averted; like a blighted fruit tree he shook, and cast his last, cindered apple to the soil.'

'What is it, what nameless, inscrutable, unearthly thing is it; what cozzening, hidden lord and master, and cruel, remorseless emperor commands me; that against all natural lovings and longings, I so keep pushing, and crowding, and jamming myself on all the time; recklessly making me ready to do what in my own proper, natural heart, I durst not so much as dare? Is Ahab, Ahab? Is it I, God, or who, that lifts this arm? But if the great sun move not of himself; but is as an errand-boy in heaven; nor one single star can revolve, but by some invisible power; how then can this one small heart beat; this one small brain think thoughts; unless God does that beating, does that thinking, does that living, and not I. By heaven, man, we are turned round and round in this world, like yonder windlass, and Fate is the handspike. And all the time, lo! that smiling sky, and this unsounded sea! Look! see yon Albicore! who put it into him to chase and fang that flying-fish? Where do murderers go, man! Who's to doom, when the judge himself is dragged to the bar? But it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky; and the air smells now, as if it blew from a far-away meadow; they have been making hay somewhere under the slopes of the Andes, Starbuck, and the mowers are sleeping among the new- mown hay. Sleeping? Aye, toil we how we may, we all sleep at last on the field. Sleep? Aye, and rust amid greenness; as last year's scythes flung down, and left in the half-cut swaths -- Starbuck!'

But blanched to a corpse's hue with despair, the Mate had stolen away.

Ahab crossed the deck to gaze over on the other side; but started at two reflected, fixed eyes in the water there. Fedallah was motionlessly leaning over the same rail.



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Chapter cxxxiii
THE CHASE -- FIRST DAY

That night, in the mid-watch, when the old man -- as his wont at intervals -- stepped forth from the scuttle in which he leaned, and went to his pivot-hole, he suddenly thrust out his face fiercely, snuffing up the sea air as a sagacious ship's dog will, in drawing nigh to some barbarous isle. He declared that a whale must be near. Soon that peculiar odor, sometimes to a great distance given forth by the living sperm whale, was palpable to all the watch; nor was any mariner surprised when, after inspecting the compass, and then the dog-vane, and then ascertaining the precise bearing of the odor as nearly as possible, Ahab rapidly ordered the ship's course to be slightly altered, and the sail to be shortened.

The acute policy dictating these movements was sufficiently vindicated at daybreak, by the sight of a long sleek on the sea directly and lengthwise ahead, smooth as oil, and resembling in the pleated watery wrinkles bordering it, the polished metallic-like marks of some swift tide- rip, at the mouth of a deep, rapid stream.

'Man the mast-heads! Call all hands!'

Thundering with the butts of three clubbed handspikes on the forecastle deck, Daggoo roused the sleepers with such judgment claps that they seemed to exhale from the scuttle, so instantaneously did they appear with their clothes in their hands.

'What d'ye see?' cried Ahab, flattening his face to the sky.

'Nothing, nothing, Sir!' was the sound hailing down in reply.

'T'gallant sails! -- stunsails! alow and aloft, and on both sides!'

All sail being set, he now cast loose the life-line, reserved for swaying him to the main royal-mast head; and in a few moments they were hoisting him thither, when, while but two thirds of the way aloft, and while peering ahead through the horizontal vacancy between the main-top- sail and top-gallant-sail,


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he raised a gull-like cry in the air, 'There she blows! -- there she blows! A hump like a snow-hill! It is Moby Dick!'

Fired by the cry which seemed simultaneously taken up by the three look-outs, the men on deck rushed to the rigging to behold the famous whale they had so long been pursuing. Ahab had now gained his final perch, some feet above the other look-outs, Tashtego standing just beneath him on the cap of the top-gallant mast, so that the Indian's head was almost on a level with Ahab's heel. From this height the whale was now seen some mile or so ahead, at every roll of the sea revealing his high sparkling hump, and regularly jetting his silent spout into the air. To the credulous mariners it seemed the same silent spout they had so long ago beheld in the moonlit Atlantic and Indian Oceans.

'And did none of ye see it before?' cried Ahab, hailing the perched men all around him.'

'I saw him almost that same instant, Sir, that Captain Ahab did, and I cried out,' said Tashtego.

'Not the same instant; not the same -- no, the doubloon is mine, Fate reserved the doubloon for me. I only; none of ye could have raised the White Whale first. There she blows! there she blows! -- there she blows! There again! -- there again! he cried, in long-drawn, lingering, methodic tones, attuned to the gradual prolongings of the whale's visible jets. 'He's going to sound! In stunsails! Down top- gallant-sails! Stand by three boats. Mr. Starbuck, remember, stay on board, and keep the ship. Helm there! Luff, luff a point! So; steady, man, steady! There go flukes! No, no; only black water! All ready the boats there? Stand by, stand by! Lower me, Mr. Starbuck; lower, lower, -- quick, quicker!' and he slid through the air to the deck.

'He is heading straight to leeward, Sir,' cried Stubb, 'right away from us; cannot have seen the ship yet.'

'Be dumb, man! Stand by the braces! Hard down the helm! -- brace up! Shiver her! -- shiver her! So; well that! Boats, boats!'

Soon all the boats but Starbuck's were dropped; all the boat-sails set -- all the paddles plying; with rippling swiftness, shooting to leeward; and Ahab heading the onset. A pale, death-glimmer


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lit up Fedallah's sunken eyes; a hideous motion gnawed his mouth.

Like noiseless nautilus shells, their light prows sped through the sea; but only slowly they neared the foe. As they neared him, the ocean grew still more smooth; seemed drawing a carpet over its waves; seemed a noon-meadow, so serenely it spread. At length the breathless hunter came so nigh his seemingly unsuspecting prey, that his entire dazzling hump was distinctly visible, sliding along the sea as if an isolated thing, and continually set in a revolving ring of finest, fleecy, greenish foam. He saw the vast, involved wrinkles of the slightly projecting head beyond. Before it, far out on the soft Turkish- rugged waters, went the glistening white shadow from his broad, milky forehead, a musical rippling playfully accompanying the shade; and behind, the blue waters interchangeably flowed over into the moving valley of his steady wake; and on either hand bright bubbles arose and danced by his side. But these were broken again by the light toes of hundreds of gay fowl softly feathering the sea, alternate with their fitful flight; and like to some flag-staff rising from the painted hull of an argosy, the tall but shattered pole of a recent lance projected from the white whale's back; and at intervals one of the cloud of soft-toed fowls hovering, and to and fro skimming like a canopy over the fish, silently perched and rocked on this pole, the long tail feathers streaming like pennons.

A gentle joyousness -- a mighty mildness of repose in swiftness, invested the gliding whale. Not the white bull Jupiter swimming away with ravished Europa clinging to his graceful horns; his lovely, leering eyes sideways intent upon the maid; with smooth bewitching fleetness, rippling straight for the nuptial bower in Crete; not Jove, not that great majesty Supreme! did surpass the glorified White Whale as he so divinely swam.

On each soft side -- coincident with the parted swell, that but once leaving him, then flowed so wide away -- on each bright side, the whale shed off enticings. No wonder there had been some among the hunters who namelessly transported and allured by all this serenity, had ventured to assail it; but had fatally


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found that quietude but the vesture of tornadoes. Yet calm, enticing calm, oh, whale! thou glidest on, to all who for the first time eye thee, no matter how many in that same way thou may'st have bejuggled and destroyed before.

And thus, through the serene tranquillities of the tropical sea, among waves whose hand-clappings were suspended by exceeding rapture, Moby Dick moved on, still withholding from sight the full terrors of his submerged trunk, entirely hiding the wrenched hideousness of his jaw. But soon the fore part of him slowly rose from the water; for an instant his whole marbleized body formed a high arch, like Virginia's Natural Bridge, and warningly waving his bannered flukes in the air, the grand god revealed himself, sounded, and went out of sight. Hoveringly halting, and dipping on the wing, the white sea-fowls longingly lingered over the agitated pool that he left.

With oars apeak, and paddles down, the sheets of their sails adrift, the three boats now stilly floated, awaiting Moby Dick's reappearance.

'An hour,' said Ahab, standing rooted in his boat's stern; and he gazed beyond the whale's place, towards the dim blue spaces and wide wooing vacancies to leeward. It was only an instant; for again his eyes seemed whirling round in his head as he swept the watery circle. The breeze now freshened; the sea began to swell.

'The birds! -- the birds!' cried Tashtego.

In long Indian file, as when herons take wing, the white birds were now all flying towards Ahab's boat; and when within a few yards began fluttering over the water there, wheeling round and round, with joyous, expectant cries. Their vision was keener than man's; Ahab could discover no sign in the sea. But suddenly as he peered down and down into its depths, he profoundly saw a white living spot no bigger than a white weasel, with wonderful celerity uprising, and magnifying as it rose, till it turned, and then there were plainly revealed two long crooked rows of white, glistening teeth, floating up from the undiscoverable bottom. It was Moby Dick's open mouth and scrolled jaw; his vast, shadowed bulk still half blending with the blue of the sea. The glittering mouth yawned beneath


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the boat like an open-doored marble tomb; and giving one side-long sweep with his steering oar, Ahab whirled the craft aside from this tremendous apparition. Then, calling upon Fedallah to change places with him, went forward to the bows, and seizing Perth's harpoon, commanded his crew to grasp their oars and stand by to stern.

Now, by reason of this timely spinning round the boat upon its axis, its bow, by anticipation, was made to face the whale's head while yet under water. But as if perceiving this strategem, moby dick, with that malicious intelligence ascribed to him, sidelingly transplanted himself, as it were, in an instant, shooting his pleated head lengthwise beneath the boat.

Through and through; through every plank and each rib, it thrilled for an instant, the whale obliquely lying on his back, in the manner of a biting shark, slowly and feelingly taking its bows full within his mouth, so that the long, narrow, scrolled lower jaw curled high up into the open air, and one of the teeth caught in a row-lock. The bluish pearl-white of the inside of the jaw was within six inches of Ahab's head, and reached higher than that. In this attitude the White Whale now shook the slight cedar as a mildly cruel cat her mouse. With unastonished eyes Fedallah gazed, and crossed his arms; but the tiger-yellow crew were tumbling over each other's heads to gain the uttermost stern.

And now, while both elastic gunwales were springing in and out, as the whale dallied with the doomed craft in this devilish way; and from his body being submerged beneath the boat, he could not be darted at from the bows, for the bows were almost inside of him, as it were; and while the other boats involuntarily paused, as before a quick crisis impossible to withstand, then it was that monomaniac Ahab, furious with this tantalizing vicinity of his foe, which placed him all alive and helpless in the very jaws he hated; frenzied with all this, he seized the long bone with his naked hands, and wildly strove to wrench it from its gripe. As now he thus vainly strove, the jaw slipped from him; the frail gunwales bent in, collapsed, and snapped, as both jaws, like an enormous shears, sliding further aft, bit the craft completely in twain, and locked themselves fast again in


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the sea, midway between the two floating wrecks. These floated aside, the broken ends drooping, the crew at the stern-wreck clinging to the gunwales, and striving to hold fast to the oars to lash them across.

At that preluding moment, ere the boat was yet snapped, Ahab, the first to perceive the whale's intent, by the crafty upraising of his head, a movement that loosed his hold for the time; at that moment his hand had made one final effort to push the boat out of the bite. But only slipping further into the whale's mouth, and tilting over sideways as it slipped, the boat had shaken off his hold on the jaw; spilled him out of it, as he leaned to the push; and so he fell flat-faced upon the sea.

Ripplingly withdrawing from his prey, Moby Dick now lay at a little distance, vertically thrusting his oblong white head up and down in the billows; and at the same time slowly revolving his whole spindled body; so that when his vast wrinkled forehead rose -- some twenty or more feet out of the water -- the now rising swells, with all their confluent waves, dazzlingly broke against it; vindictively tossing their shivered spray still higher into the air. So, in a gale, the but half- baffled Channel billows only recoil from the base of the Eddystone, triumphantly to overleap its summit with their scud.

But soon resuming his horizontal attitude, Moby Dick swam swiftly round and round the wrecked crew; sideways churning the water in his vengeful wake, as if lashing himself up to still another and more deadly assault. The sight of the splintered boat seemed to madden him, as the blood of grapes and mulberries cast before Antiochus's elephants in the book of Maccabees. Meanwhile Ahab half smothered in the foam of the whale's insolent tail, and too much of a cripple to swim, -- though he could still keep afloat, even in the heart of such a whirlpool as that; helpless Ahab's head was seen, like a tossed bubble which the least chance shock might burst. From the boat's fragmentary


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stern, Fedallah incuriously and mildly eyed him; the clinging crew, at the other drifting end, could not succor him; more than enough was it for them to look to themselves. For so revolvingly appalling was the White Whale's aspect, and so planetarily swift the ever-contracting circles he made, that he seemed horizontally swooping upon them. And though the other boats, unharmed, still hovered hard by; still they dared not pull into the eddy to strike, lest that should be the signal for the instant destruction of the jeopardized castaways, Ahab and all; nor in that case could they themselves hope to escape. With straining eyes, then, they remained on the outer edge of the direful zone, whose centre had now become the old man's head.

Meantime, from the beginning all this had been descried from the ship's mast heads; and squaring her yards, she had borne down upon the scene; and was now so nigh, that Ahab in the water hailed her; -- 'Sail on the' -- but that moment a breaking sea dashed on him from Moby Dick, and whelmed him for the time. But struggling out of it again, and chancing to rise on a towering crest, he shouted, -- 'Sail on the whale! -- Drive him off!'

The Pequod's prows were pointed; and breaking up the charmed circle, she effectually parted the white whale from his victim. As he sullenly swam off, the boats flew to the rescue.

Dragged into Stubb's boat with blood-shot, blinded eyes, the white brine caking in his wrinkles; the long tension of Ahab's bodily strength did crack, and helplessly he yielded to his body's doom: for a time, lying all crushed in the bottom of Stubb's boat, like one trodden under foot of herds of elephants. Far inland, nameless wails came from him, as desolate sounds from out ravines.

But this intensity of his physical prostration did but so much the more abbreviate it. In an instant's compass, great hearts sometimes condense to one deep pang, the sum total of those shallow pains kindly diffused through feebler men's whole lives. And so, such hearts, though summary in each one suffering; still, if the gods decree it, in their life- time aggregate a whole age of woe, wholly made up of instantaneous intensities; for even in their pointless centres, those noble natures contain the entire circumferences of inferior souls.


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'The harpoon,' said Ahab, half way rising, and draggingly leaning on one bended arm -- 'is it safe?'

'Aye, Sir, for it was not darted; this is it,' said Stubb, showing it.

'Lay it before me; -- any missing men?'

'One, two, three, four, five; -- there were five oars, Sir, and here are five men.'

'That's good. -- Help me, man; I wish to stand. So, so, I see him! there! there! going to leeward still; what a leaping spout! Hands off from me! The eternal sap runs up in Ahab's bones again! Set the sail; out oars; the helm!'

It is often the case that when a boat is stove, its crew, being picked up by another boat, help to work that second boat; and the chase is thus continued with what is called double-banked oars. It was thus now. But the added power of the boat did not equal the added power of the whale, for he seemed to have treble-banked his every fin; swimming with a velocity which plainly showed, that if now, under these circumstances, pushed on, the chase would prove an indefinitely prolonged, if not a hopeless one; nor could any crew endure for so long a period, such an unintermitted, intense straining at the oar; a thing barely tolerable only in some one brief vicissitude. The ship itself, then, as it sometimes happens, offered the most promising intermediate means of overtaking the chase. Accordingly, the boats now made for her, and were soon swayed up to their cranes -- the two parts of the wrecked boat having been previously secured by her -- and then hoisting everything to her side, and stacking her canvas high up, and sideways outstretching it with stun-sails, like the double-jointed wings of an albatross; the Pequod bore down in the leeward wake of Moby Dick. At the well known, methodic intervals, the whale's glittering spout was regularly announced from the manned mast-heads; and when he would be reported as just gone down, Ahab would take the time, and then pacing the deck, binnacle-watch in hand, so soon as the last second of the allotted hour expired, his voice was heard. -- 'Whose is the doubloon now? D'ye see him?' and if the reply was, No, Sir! straightway he commanded them to lift him to his perch. In this way the day wore on; Ahab,


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now aloft and motionless; anon, unrestingly pacing the planks.

As he was thus walking, uttering no sound, except to hail the men aloft, or to bid them hoist a sail still higher, or to spread one to a still greater breadth -- thus to and fro pacing, beneath his slouched hat, at every turn he passed his own wrecked boat, which had been dropped upon the quarter- deck, and lay there reversed; broken bow to shattered stern. At last he paused before it; and as in an already over-clouded sky fresh troops of clouds will sometimes sail across, so over the old man's face there now stole some such added gloom as this.

Stubb saw him pause; and perhaps intending, not vainly, though, to evince his own unabated fortitude, and thus keep up a valiant place in his Captain's mind, he advanced, and eyeing the wreck exclaimed -- 'The thistle the ass refused; it pricked his mouth too keenly, Sir; ha! ha!'

'What soulless thing is this that laughs before a wreck? Man, man! did I not know thee brave as fearless fire (and as mechanical) I could swear thou wert a poltroon. Groan nor laugh should be heard before a wreck.'

'Aye, Sir,' said Starbuck drawing near, ''tis a solemn sight; an omen, and an ill one.'

'Omen? omen? -- the dictionary! If the gods think to speak outright to man, they will honorably speak outright; not shake their heads, and give an old wives' darkling hint. -- Begone! Ye two are the opposite poles of one thing; Starbuck is Stubb reversed, and Stubb is Starbuck; and ye two are all mankind; and Ahab stands alone among the millions of the peopled earth, nor gods nor men his neighbors! Cold, cold -- I shiver! -- How now? Aloft there! D'ye see him? Sing out for every spout, though he spout ten times a second!'

The day was nearly done; only the hem of his golden robe was rustling. Soon, it was almost dark, but the look-out men still remained unset.

'Can't see the spout now, Sir; -- too dark' -- cried a voice from the air.

How heading when last seen?'

'As before, Sir, -- straight to leeward.'

'Good! he will travel slower now 'tis night. Down royals and


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top-gallant stun-sails, Mr. Starbuck. We must not run over him before morning; he's making a passage now, and may heave-to a while. Helm there! keep her full before the wind! -- Aloft! come down! -- Mr. Stubb, send a fresh hand to the fore-mast head, and see it manned till morning.' -- Then advancing towards the doubloon in the main-mast -- 'Men, this gold is mine, for I earned it; but I shall let it abide here till the White Whale is dead; and then, whosoever of ye first raises him, upon the day he shall be killed, this gold is that man's; and if on that day I shall again raise him, then, ten times its sum shall be divided among all of ye! Away now! -- the deck is thine, Sir.'

And so saying, he placed himself half way within the scuttle, and slouching his hat, stood there till dawn, except when at intervals rousing himself to see how the night wore on.

Note: This motion is peculiar to the sperm whale. It receives its designation (pitchpoling) from its being likened to that preliminary up-and-down poise of the whale-lance, in the exercise called pitchpoling, previously described. By this motion the whale must best and most comprehensively view whatever objects may be encircling him.


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Chapter cxxxiv
THE CHASE -- SECOND DAY

At day-break, the three mast-heads were punctually manned afresh.

'D'ye see him?' cried Ahab, after allowing a little space for the light to spread.

'See nothing, Sir.'

'Turn up all hands and make sail! he travels faster than I thought for; -- the top-gallant sails! -- aye, they should have been kept on her all night. But no matter -- 'tis but resting for the rush.'

Here be it said, that this pertinacious pursuit of one particular whale, continued through day into night, and through night into day, is a thing by no means unprecedented in the South sea fishery. For such is the wonderful skill, prescience of experience, and invincible confidence acquired by some great natural geniuses among the Nantucket commanders; that from the simple observation of a whale when last descried, they will,


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under certain given circumstances, pretty accurately foretell both the direction in which he will continue to swim for a time, while out of sight, as well as his probable rate of progression during that period. And, in these cases, somewhat as a pilot, when about losing sight of a coast, whose general trending he well knows, and which he desires shortly to return to again, but at some further point; like as this pilot stands by his compass, and takes the precise bearing of the cape at present visible, in order the more certainly to hit aright the remote, unseen headland, eventually to be visited: so does the fisherman, at his compass, with the whale; for after being chased, and diligently marked, through several hours of daylight, then, when night obscures the fish, the creature's future wake through the darkness is almost as established to the sagacious mind of the hunter, as the pilot's coast is to him. So that to this hunter's wondrous skill, the proverbial evanescence of a thing writ in water, a wake, is to all desired purposes well nigh as reliable as the steadfast land. And as the mighty iron Leviathan of the modern railway is so familiarly known in its every pace, that, with watches in their hands, men time his rate as doctors that of a baby's pulse; and lightly say of it, the up train or the down train will reach such or such a spot, at such or such an hour; even so, almost, there are occasions when these Nantucketers time that other Leviathan of the deep, according to the observed humor of his speed; and say to themselves, so many hours hence this whale will have gone two hundred miles, will have about reached this or that degree of latitude or longitude. But to render this acuteness at all successful in the end, the wind and the sea must be the whaleman's allies; for of what present avail to the becalmed or windbound mariner is the skill that assures him he is exactly ninety-three leagues and a quarter from his port? Inferable from these statements, are many collateral subtile matters touching the chase of whales.

The ship tore on; leaving such a furrow in the sea as when a cannon-ball, missent, becomes a plough-share and turns up the level field.

'By salt and hemp!' cried Stubb, 'but this swift motion of the deck creeps up one's legs and tingles at the heart. This


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ship and I are two brave fellows! -- Ha! ha! Some one take me up, and launch me, spine-wise, on the sea, -- for by live-oaks! my spine's a keel. Ha, ha! we go the gait that leaves no dust behind!'

'There she blows -- she blows! -- she blows! -- right ahead!' was now the mast-head cry.

'Aye, aye!' cried Stubb. 'I knew it -- ye can't escape -- blow on and split your spout, O whale! the mad fiend himself is after ye! blow your trump -- blister your lungs! -- Ahab will dam off your blood, as a miller shuts his water-gate upon the stream!'

And Stubb did but speak out for well nigh all that crew. The frenzies of the chase had by this time worked them bubblingly up, like old wine worked anew. Whatever pale fears and forebodings some of them might have felt before; these were not only now kept out of sight through the growing awe of Ahab, but they were broken up, and on all sides routed, as timid prairie hares that scatter before the bounding bison. The hand of Fate had snatched all their souls; and by the stirring perils of the previous day; the rack of the past night's suspense; the fixed, unfearing, blind, reckless way in which their wild craft went plunging towards its flying mark; by all these things, their hearts were bowled along. The wind that made great bellies of their sails, and rushed the vessel on by arms invisible as irresistible; this seemed the symbol of that unseen agency which so enslaved them to the race.

They were one man, not thirty. For as the one ship that held them all; though it was put together of all contrasting things -- oak, and maple, and pine wood; iron, and pitch, and hemp -- yet all these ran into each other in the one concrete hull, which shot on its way, both balanced and directed by the long central keel; even so, all the individualities of the crew, this man's valor, that man's fear; guilt and guiltiness, all varieties were welded into oneness, and were all directed to that fatal goal which Ahab their one lord and keel did point to.

The rigging lived. The mast-heads, like the tops of tall palms, were outspreadingly tufted with arms and legs. Clinging to a spar with one hand, some reached forth the other with impatient wavings; others, shading their eyes from the vivid sunlight, sat


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far out on the rocking yards; all the spars in full bearing of mortals, ready and ripe for their fate. Ah! how they still strove through that infinite blueness to seek out the thing that might destroy them!

'Why sing ye not out for him, if ye see him?' cried Ahab, when, after the lapse of some minutes since the first cry, no more had been heard. 'Sway me up, men; ye have been deceived; not moby dick casts one odd jet that way, and then disappears.'

It was even so; in their headlong eagerness, the men had mistaken some other thing for the whale-spout, as the event itself soon proved; for hardly had Ahab reached his perch; hardly was the rope belayed to its pin on deck, when he struck the key-note to an orchestra, that made the air vibrate as with the combined discharges of rifles. The triumphant halloo of thirty buckskin lungs was heard, as -- much nearer to the ship than the place of the imaginary jet, less than a mile ahead -- Moby Dick bodily burst into view! For not by any calm and indolent spoutings; not by the peaceable gush of that mystic fountain in his head, did the White Whale now reveal his vicinity; but by the far more wondrous phenomenon of breaching. Rising with his utmost velocity from the furthest depths, the Sperm Whale thus booms his entire bulk into the pure element of air, and piling up a mountain of dazzling foam, shows his place to the distance of seven miles and more. In those moments, the torn, enraged waves he shakes off, seem his mane; in some cases, this breaching is his act of defiance.

'There she breaches! there she breaches!' was the cry, as in his immeasureable bravadoes the White Whale tossed himself salmon-like to Heaven. So suddenly seen in the blue plain of the sea, and relieved against the still bluer margin of the sky, the spray that he raised, for the moment, intolerably glittered and glared like a glacier; and stood there gradually fading and fading away from its first sparkling intensity, to the dim mistiness of an advancing shower in a vale.

'Aye, breach your last to the sun, Moby Dick!' cried Ahab, 'thy hour and thy harpoon are at hand! -- Down! down all of ye, but one man at the fore. The boats! -- stand by!'


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Unmindful of the tedious rope-ladders of the shrouds, the men, like shooting stars, slid to the deck, by the isolated back- stays and halyards; while Ahab, less dartingly, but still rapidly was dropped from his perch.

'Lower away,' he cried, so soon as he had reached his boat -- a spare one, rigged the afternoon previous. 'Mr. Starbuck, the ship is thine -- keep away from the boats, but keep near them. Lower, all!'

As if to strike a quick terror into them, by this time being the first assailant himself, Moby Dick had turned, and was now coming for the three crews. Ahab's boat was central; and cheering his men, he told them he would take the whale head-and-head, -- that is, pull straight up to his forehead, -- a not uncommon thing; for when within a certain limit, such a course excludes the coming onset from the whale's sidelong vision. But ere that close limit was gained, and while yet all three boats were plain as the ship's three masts to his eye; the White Whale churning himself into furious speed, almost in an instant as it were, rushing among the boats with open jaws, and a lashing tail, offered appalling battle on every side; and heedless of the irons darted at him from every boat, seemed only intent on annihilating each separate plank of which those boats were made. But skilfully manoeuvred, incessantly wheeling like trained chargers in the field; the boats for a while eluded him; though, at times, but by a plank's breadth; while all the time, Ahab's unearthly slogan tore every other cry but his to shreds.

But at last in his untraceable evolutions, the White Whale so crossed and recrossed, and in a thousand ways entangled the slack of the three lines now fast to him, that they foreshortened, and, of themselves, warped the devoted boats towards the planted irons in him; though now for a moment the whale drew aside a little, as if to rally for a more tremendous charge. Seizing that opportunity, Ahab first paid out more line: and then was rapidly hauling and jerking in upon it again -- hoping that way to disencumber it of some snarls -- when lo! -- a sight more savage than the embattled teeth of sharks!

Caught and twisted -- corkscrewed in the mazes of the line, loose harpoons and lances, with all their bristling barbs and


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points, came flashing and dripping up to the chocks in the bows of Ahab's boat. Only one thing could be done. Seizing the boat- knife, he critically reached within -- through -- and then, without -- the rays of steel; dragged in the line beyond, passed it, inboard, to the bowsman, and then, twice sundering the rope near the chocks -- dropped the intercepted fagot of steel into the sea; and was all fast again. That instant, the White Whale made a sudden rush among the remaining tangles of the other lines; by so doing, irresistibly dragged the more involved boats of Stubb and Flask towards his flukes; dashed them together like two rolling husks on a surf-beaten beach, and then, diving down into the sea, disappeared in a boiling maelstrom, in which, for a space, the odorous cedar chips of the wrecks danced round and round, like the grated nutmeg in a swiftly stirred bowl of punch.

While the two crews were yet circling in the waters, reaching out after the revolving line-tubs, oars, and other floating furniture, while aslope little Flask bobbed up and down like an empty vial, twitching his legs upwards to escape the dreaded jaws of sharks; and Stubb was lustily singing out for some one to ladle him up; and while the old man's line -- now parting -- admitted of his pulling into the creamy pool to rescue whom he could; -- in that wild simultaneousness of a thousand concreted perils, -- Ahab's yet unstricken boat seemed drawn up towards Heaven by invisible wires, -- as, arrow-like, shooting perpendicularly from the sea, the White Whale dashed his broad forehead against its bottom, and sent it, turning over and over, into the air; till it fell again -- gunwale downwards -- and Ahab and his men struggled out from under it, like seals from a seaside cave.

The first uprising momentum of the whale -- modifying its direction as he struck the surface -- involuntarily launched him along it, to a little distance from the centre of the destruction he had made; and with his back to it, he now lay for a moment slowly feeling with his flukes from side to side; and whenever a stray oar, bit of plank, the least chip or crumb of the boats touched his skin, his tail swiftly drew back, and came sideways smiting the sea. But soon, as if satisfied that his work for that time was done, he pushed his pleated forehead through the


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ocean, and trailing after him the intertangled lines, continued his leeward way at a traveller's methodic pace.

As before, the attentive ship having descried the whole fight, again came bearing down to the rescue, and dropping a boat, picked up the floating mariners, tubs, oars and whatever else could be caught at, and safely landed them on her decks. Some sprained shoulders, wrists, and ankles; livid contusions; wrenched harpoons and lances; inextricable intricacies of rope; shattered oars and planks; all these were there; but no fatal or even serious ill seemed to have befallen any one. As with Fedallah the day before, so Ahab was now found grimly clinging to his boat's broken half, which afforded a comparatively easy float; nor did it so exhaust him as the previous day's mishap.

But when he was helped to the deck, all eyes were fastened upon him; as instead of standing by himself he still half-hung upon the shoulder of Starbuck, who had thus far been the foremost to assist him. His ivory leg had been snapped off, leaving but one short sharp splinter.

'Aye, aye,' Starbuck, 'tis sweet to lean sometimes, be the leaner who he will; and would old Ahab had leaned oftener than he has.'

'The ferrule has not stood, Sir,' said the carpenter, now coming up; 'I put good work into that leg.'

'But no bones broken, Sir, I hope,' said Stubb with true concern.

'Aye! and all splintered to pieces, Stubb! -- d'ye see it. -- But even with a broken bone, old Ahab is untouched; and I account no living bone of mine one jot more me, than this dead one that's lost. Nor white whale, nor man, nor fiend, can so much as graze old Ahab in his own proper and inaccessible being. Can any lead touch yonder floor, any mast scrape yonder roof? -- Aloft there! which way?'

'Dead to leeward, Sir.'

'Up helm, then; pile on the sail again, ship keepers! down the rest of the spare boats and rig them -- Mr. Starbuck away, and muster the boat's crews.'

'Let me first help thee towards the bulwarks, Sir.'

'Oh, oh, oh! how this splinter gores me now! Accursed fate!


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that the unconquerable captain in the soul should have such a craven mate!'

'Sir?'

'My body, man, not thee. Give me something for a cane -- there, that shivered lance will do. Muster the men. Surely I have not seen him yet. By heaven it cannot be! -- missing? -- quick! call them all.'

The old man's hinted thought was true. Upon mustering the company, the Parsee was not there.

'The Parsee!' cried Stubb -- 'he must have been caught in -- '

'The black vomit wrench thee! -- run all of ye above, alow, cabin, forecastle -- find him -- not gone -- not gone!'

But quickly they returned to him with the tidings that the Parsee was nowhere to be found.

'Aye, Sir,' said Stubb -- 'caught among the tangles of your line -- I thought I saw him dragging under.'

'My line! my line? Gone? -- gone? What means that little word? -- What death-knell rings in it, that old Ahab shakes as if he were the belfry. The harpoon, too! -- toss over the litter there, -- d'ye see it? -- the forged iron, men, the white whale's -- no, no, no, -- blistered fool; this hand did dart it! -- 'tis in the fish! -- Aloft there! keep him nailed -- quick! -- all hands to the rigging of the boats -- collect the oars -- harpooneers! the irons, the irons! -- hoist the royals higher -- a pull on all the sheets! -- helm there! steady, steady for your life! I'll ten times girdle the unmeasured globe; yea and dive straight through it, but I'll slay him yet!'

'Great God! but for one single instant show thyself,' cried Starbuck; 'never, never wilt thou capture him, old man -- In Jesus' name no more of this, that's worse than devil's madness. Two days chased; twice stove to splinters; thy very leg once more snatched from under thee; thy evil shadow gone -- all good angels mobbing thee with warnings: -- what more wouldst thou have? -- Shall we keep chasing this murderous fish till he swamps the last man? Shall we be dragged by him to the bottom of the sea? Shall we be towed by him to the infernal world? Oh, oh, -- Impiety and blasphemy to hunt him more!'

'Starbuck, of late I've felt strangely moved to thee; ever since that hour we both saw -- thou know'st what, in one another's


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eyes. But in this matter of the whale, be the front of thy face to me as the palm of this hand -- a lipless, unfeatured blank. Ahab is for ever Ahab, man. This whole act's immutably decreed. 'Twas rehearsed by thee and me a billion years before this ocean rolled. Fool! I am the Fates' lieutenant; I act under orders. Look thou, underling! that thou obeyest mine. -- Stand round me, men. Ye see an old man cut down to the stump; leaning on a shivered lance; propped up on a lonely foot. 'Tis Ahab -- his body's part; but Ahab's soul's a centipede, that moves upon a hundred legs. I feel strained, half stranded, as ropes that tow dismasted frigates in a gale; and I may look so. But ere I break, ye'll hear me crack; and till ye hear that, know that Ahab's hawser tows his purpose yet. Believe ye, men, in the things called omens? Then laugh aloud, and cry encore! For ere they drown, drowning things will twice rise to the surface; then rise again, to sink for evermore. So with Moby Dick -- two days he's floated -- to- morrow will be the third. Aye, men, he'll rise once more, -- but only to spout his last! D'ye feel brave men, brave?'

'As fearless fire,' cried Stubb.

'And as mechanical,' muttered Ahab. Then as the men went forward, he muttered on: -- 'The things called omens! And yesterday I talked the same to Starbuck there, concerning my broken boat. Oh! how valiantly I seek to drive out of others' hearts what's clinched so fast in mine! -- The Parsee -- the Parsee! -- gone, gone? and he was to go before: -- but still was to be seen again ere I could perish -- How's that? -- There's a riddle now might baffle all the lawyers backed by the ghosts of the whole line of judges: -- like a hawk's beak it pecks my brain. I'll, I'll solve it, though!'

When dusk descended, the whale was still in sight to leeward.

So once more the sail was shortened, and everything passed nearly as on the previous night; only, the sound of hammers, and the hum of the grindstone was heard till nearly daylight, as the men toiled by lanterns in the complete and careful rigging of the spare boats and sharpening their fresh weapons for the morrow. Meantime, of the broken keel of Ahab's wrecked craft the carpenter made him another leg; while still as on the


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night before, slouched Ahab stood fixed within his scuttle; his hid, heliotrope glance anticipatingly gone backward on its dial; sat due eastward for the earliest sun.




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Chapter cxxxv
THE CHASE -- THIRD DAY

The morning of the third day dawned fair and fresh, and once more the solitary night-man at the fore-mast-head was relieved by crowds of the daylight look-outs, who dotted every mast and almost every spar.

'D'ye see him?' cried Ahab; but the whale was not yet in sight.

'In his infallible wake, though; but follow that wake, that's all. Helm there; steady, as thou goest, and hast been going. What a lovely day again; were it a new-made world, and made for a summer-house to the angels, and this morning the first of its throwing open to them, a fairer day could not dawn upon that world. Here's food for thought, had Ahab time to think; but Ahab never thinks; he only feels, feels, feels; that's tingling enough for mortal man! to think's audacity. God only has that right and privilege. Thinking is, or ought to be, a coolness and a calmness; and our poor hearts throb, and our poor brains beat too much for that. And yet, I've sometimes thought my brain was very calm -- frozen calm, this old skull cracks so, like a glass in which the contents turned to ice, and shiver it. And still this hair is growing now; this moment growing, and heat must breed it; but no, it's like that sort of common grass that will grow anywhere, between the earthy clefts of Greenland ice or in Vesuvius lava. How the wild winds blow it; they whip it about me as the torn shreds of split sails lash the tossed ship they cling to. A vile wind that has no doubt blown ere this through prison corridors and cells, and wards of hospitals, and ventilated them, and now comes blowing hither as innocent as


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fleeces. Out upon it! -- it's tainted. Were I the wind, I'd blow no more on such a wicked, miserable world. I'd crawl somewhere to a cave, and slink there. And yet, 'tis a noble and heroic thing, the wind! who ever conquered it? In every fight it has the last and bitterest blow. Run tilting at it, and you but run through it. Ha! a coward wind that strikes stark naked men, but will not stand to receive a single blow. Even Ahab is a braver thing -- a nobler thing that that. Would now the wind but had a body; but all the things that most exasperate and outrage mortal man, all these things are bodiless, but only bodiless as objects, not as agents. There's a most special, a most cunning, oh, a most malicious difference! And yet, I say again, and swear it now, that there's something all glorious and gracious in the wind. These warm Trade Winds, at least, that in the clear heavens blow straight on, in strong and steadfast, vigorous mildness; and veer not from their mark, however the baser currents of the sea may turn and tack, and mightiest Mississippies of the land swift and swerve about, uncertain where to go at last. And by the eternal Poles! these same Trades that so directly blow my good ship on; these Trades, or something like them -- something so unchangeable, and full as strong, blow my keeled soul along! To it! Aloft there! What d'ye see?'

'Nothing, Sir.'

'Nothing! and noon at hand! The doubloon goes a-begging! See the sun! Aye, aye, it must be so. I've oversailed him. How, got the start? Aye, he's chasing me now; not I, him -- that's bad; I might have known it, too. Fool! the lines -- the harpoons he's towing. Aye, aye, I have run him by last night. About! about! Come down, all of ye, but the regular look outs! Man the braces!'

Steering as she had done, the wind had been somewhat on the Pequod's quarter, so that now being pointed in the reverse direction, the braced ship sailed hard upon the breeze as she rechurned the cream in her own white wake.

'Against the wind he now steers for the open jaw,' murmured Starbuck to himself, as he coiled the new-hauled main- brace upon the rail. 'God keep us, but already my bones feel


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damp within me, and from the inside wet my flesh. I misdoubt me that I disobey my God in obeying him!'

'Stand by to sway me up!' cried Ahab, advancing to the hempen basket. 'We should meet him soon.'

'Aye, aye, Sir,' and straightway Starbuck did Ahab's bidding, and once more Ahab swung on high.

A whole hour now passed; gold-beaten out to ages. time itself now held long breaths with keen suspense. But at last, some three points off the weather bow, Ahab descried the spout again, and instantly from the three mast-heads three shrieks went up as if the tongues of fire had voiced it.

'Forehead to forehead I meet thee, this third time, Moby Dick! On deck there! -- brace sharper up; crowd her into the wind's eye. He's too far off to lower yet, Mr. Starbuck. The sails shake! Stand over that helmsman with a top- maul! So, so; he travels fast, and I must down. But let me have one more good round look aloft here at the sea; there's time for that. An old, old sight, and yet somehow so young; aye, and not changed a wink since I first saw it, a boy, from the sand-hills of Nantucket! The same! -- the same! -- the same to Noah as to me. There's a soft shower to leeward. Such lovely leewardings! They must lead somewhere -- to something else than common land, more palmy than the palms. Leeward! the white whale goes that way; look to windward, then; the better if the bitterer quarter. But good bye, good bye, old mast-head! What's this? -- green? aye, tiny mosses in these warped cracks. No such green weather stains on Ahab's head! There's the difference now between man's old age and matter's. But aye, old mast, we both grow old together; sound in our hulls, though, are we not, my ship? Aye, minus a leg, that's all. By heaven this dead wood has the better of my live flesh every way. I can't compare with it; and I've known some ships made of dead trees outlast the lives of men made of the most vital stuff of vital fathers. What's that he said? he should still go before me, my pilot; and yet to be seen again? But where? Will I have eyes at the bottom of the sea, supposing I descend those endless stairs? and all night I've been sailing from him, wherever he did sink to. Aye,


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aye, like many more thou told'st direful truth as touching thyself, O Parsee; but, Ahab, there thy shot fell short. Good by, mast- head -- keep a good eye upon the whale, the while I'm gone. We'll talk to-morrow, nay, to-night, when the white whale lies down there, tied by head and tail.'

He gave the word; and still gazing round him, was steadily lowered through the cloven blue air to the deck.

In due time the boats were lowered, but as standing in his shallop's stern, Ahab just hovered upon the point of the descent, he waved to the mate, -- who held one of the tackle-ropes on deck -- and bade him pause.

'Starbuck!'

'Sir?'

'For the third time my soul's ship starts upon this voyage, Starbuck.'

'Aye, Sir, thou wilt have it so.'

'Some ships sail from their ports, and ever afterwards are missing, Starbuck!'

'Truth, Sir: saddest truth.'

'Some men die at ebb tide; some at low water; some at the full of the flood; -- and I feel now like a billow that's all one crested comb, Starbuck. I am old; -- shake hands with me, man.'

Their hands met; their eyes fastened; Starbuck's tears the glue.

'Oh, my captain, my captain! -- noble heart -- go not -- go not! -- see, it's a brave man that weeps; how great the agony of the persuasion then!'

'Lower away!' -- cried Ahab, tossing the mate's arm from him. 'Stand by the crew!'

In an instant the boat was pulling round close under the stern.

'The sharks! the sharks!' cried a voice from the low cabin-window there; 'O master, my master, come back!'

But Ahab heard nothing; for his own voice was high-lifted then; and the boat leaped on.

Yet the voice spake true; for scarce had he pushed from the ship, when numbers of sharks, seemingly rising from out the dark waters beneath the hull, maliciously snapped at the blades of the oars, every time they dipped in the water; and in this


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way accompanied the boat with their bites. It is a thing not uncommonly happening to the whale-boats in those swarming seas; the sharks at times apparently following them in the same prescient way that vultures hover over the banners of marching regiments in the east. But these were the first sharks that had been observed by the Pequod since the White Whale had been first descried; and whether it was that Ahab's crew were all such tiger- yellow barbarians, and therefore their flesh more musky to the senses of the sharks -- a matter sometimes well known to affect them, -- however it was, they seemed to follow that one boat without molesting the others.

'Heart of wrought steel!' murmured Starbuck gazing over the side, and following with his eyes the receding boat -- 'canst thou yet ring boldly to that sight?' -- lowering thy keel among ravening sharks, and followed by them, open-mouthed to the chase; and this the critical third day? -- For when three days flow together in one continuous intense pursuit; be sure the first is the morning, the second the noon, and the third the evening and the end of that thing -- be that end what it may. Oh! my God! what is this that shoots through me, and leaves me so deadly calm, yet expectant, -- fixed at the top of a shudder! Future things swim before me, as in empty outlines and skeletons; all the past is somehow grown dim. Mary, girl! thou fadest in pale glories behind me; boy! I seem to see but thy eyes grown wondrous blue. Strangest problems of life seem clearing; but clouds sweep between -- Is my journey's end coming? My legs feel faint; like his who has footed it all day. Feel thy heart, -- beats it yet? -- Stir thyself, Starbuck! -- stave it off -- move, move! speak aloud! -- Mast-head there! See ye my boy's hand on the hill? -- Crazed; -- aloft there! -- keep thy keenest eye upon the boats: -- mark well the whale! -- Ho! again! -- drive off that hawk! see! he pecks -- he tears the vane -- pointing to the red flag flying at the main-truck -- 'Ha! he soars away with it! -- Where's the old man now? sees't thou that sight, oh Ahab! -- shudder, shudder!'

The boats had not gone very far, when by a signal from the mast-heads -- a downward pointed arm, Ahab knew that the whale had sounded; but intending to be near him at the next rising, he


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held on his way a little sideways from the vessel; the becharmed crew maintaining the profoundest silence, as the head-beat waves hammered and hammered against the opposing bow.

'Drive, drive in your nails, oh ye waves! to their uttermost heads, drive them in! ye but strike a thing without a lid; and no coffin and no hearse can be mine: -- and hemp only can kill me! Ha! ha!'

Suddenly the waters around them slowly swelled in broad circles; then quickly upheaved, as if sideways sliding from a submerged berg of ice, swiftly rising to the surface. A low rumbling sound was heard; a subterraneous hum; and then all held their breaths; as bedraggled with trailing ropes, and harpoons, and lances, a vast form shot lengthwise, but obliquely from the sea. Shrouded in a thin drooping veil of mist, it hovered for a moment in the rainbowed air; and then fell swamping back into the deep. Crushed thirty feet upwards, the waters flashed for an instant like heaps of fountains, then brokenly sank in a shower of flakes, leaving the circling surface creamed like new milk round the marble trunk of the whale.

'Give way!' cried Ahab to the oarsmen, and the boats darted forward to the attack; but maddened by yesterday's fresh irons that corroded in him, Moby Dick seemed combinedly possessed by all the angels that fell from heaven. The wide tiers of welded tendons overspreading his broad white forehead, beneath the transparent skin, looked knitted together; as head on, he came churning his tail among the boats; and once more flailed them apart; spilling out the irons and lances from the two mates' boats, and dashing in one side of the upper part of their bows, but leaving Ahab's almost without a scar.

While Daggoo and Queequeg were stopping the strained planks; and as the whale swimming out from them, turned, and showed one entire flank as he shot by them again; at that moment a quick cry went up. Lashed round and round to the fish's back; pinioned in the turns upon turns in which, during the past night, the whale had reeled the involutions of the lines around him, the half torn body of the Parsee was seen; his sable raiment frayed to shreds; his distended eyes turned full upon old Ahab.


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The harpoon dropped from his hand.

'Befooled, befooled!' -- drawing in a long lean breath -- 'Aye, Parsee! I see thee again. -- Aye, and thou goest before; and this, this then is the hearse that thou didst promise. But I hold thee to the last letter of thy word. Where is the second hearse? Away, mates, to the ship! those boats are useless now; repair them if ye can in time, and return to me; if not, Ahab is enough to die -- Down, men! the first thing that but offers to jump from this boat I stand in, that thing I harpoon. Ye are not other men, but my arms and my legs; and so obey me. -- Where's the whale? gone down again?'

But he looked too nigh the boat; for as if bent upon escaping with the corpse he bore, and as if the particular place of the last encounter had been but a stage in his leeward voyage, Moby Dick was now again steadily swimming forward; and had almost passed the ship, -- which thus far had been sailing in the contrary direction to him, though for the present her headway had been stopped. He seemed swimming with his utmost velocity, and now only intent upon pursuing his own straight path in the sea.

'Oh! Ahab,' cried Starbuck, 'not too late is it, even now, the third day, to desist. See! Moby Dick seeks thee not. It is thou, thou, that madly seekest him!'

Setting sail to the rising wind, the lonely boat was swiftly impelled to leeward, by both oars and canvas. And at last when Ahab was sliding by the vessel, so near as plainly to distinguish Starbuck's face as he leaned over the rail, he hailed him to turn the vessel about, and follow him, not too swiftly, at a judicious interval. Glancing upwards, he saw Tashtego, Queequeg, and Daggoo, eagerly mounting to the three mast- heads; while the oarsmen were rocking in the two staved boats which had but just been hoisted to the side, and were busily at work in repairing them. One after the other, through the portholes, as he sped, he also caught flying glimpses of Stubb and Flask, busying themselves on deck among bundles of new irons and lances. As he saw all this; as he heard the hammers in the broken boats; far other hammers seemed driving a nail into his heart. But he rallied. And now marking that the vane or


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flag was gone from the main-mast-head, he shouted to Tashtego, who had just gained that perch, to descend again for another flag, and a hammer and nails, and so nail it to the mast.

Whether fagged by the three days' running chase, and the resistance to his swimming in the knotted hamper he bore; or whether it was some latent deceitfulness and malice in him: whichever was true, the White Whale's way now began to abate, as it seemed, from the boat so rapidly nearing him once more; though indeed the whale's last start had not been so long a one as before. And still as Ahab glided over the waves the unpitying sharks accompanied him; and so pertinaciously stuck to the boat; and so continually bit at the plying oars, that the blades became jagged and crunched, and left small splinters in the sea, at almost every dip.

'Heed them not! those teeth but give new rowlocks to your oars. Pull on! 'tis the better rest, the shark's jaw than the yielding water.'

'But at every bite, Sir, the thin blades grow smaller and smaller!'

'They will last long enough! pull on! -- But who can tell' -- he muttered -- 'whether these sharks swim to feast on the whale or on Ahab? -- But pull on! Aye, all alive, now -- we near him. The helm! take the helm; let me pass,' -- and so saying, two of the oarsmen helped him forward to the bows of the still flying boat.

At length as the craft was cast to one side, and ran ranging along with the White Whale's flank, he seemed strangely oblivious of its advance -- as the whale sometimes will -- and Ahab was fairly within the smoky mountain mist, which, thrown off from the whale's spout, curled round his great, Monadnock hump; he was even thus close to him; when, with body arched back, and both arms lengthwise high-lifted to the poise, he darted his fierce iron, and his far fiercer curse into the hated whale. As both steel and curse sank to the socket, as if sucked into a morass, Moby Dick sideways writhed; spasmodically rolled his nigh flank against the bow, and, without staving a hole in it, so suddenly canted the boat over, that had it not been for the elevated part of the gunwale to which he then clung, Ahab would once more have been tossed into the sea.


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As it was, three of the oarsmen -- who foreknew not the precise instant of the dart, and were therefore unprepared for its effects -- these were flung out; but so fell, that, in an instant two of them clutched the gunwale again, and rising to its level on a combing wave, hurled themselves bodily inboard again; the third man helplessly dropping astern, but still afloat and swimming.

Almost simultaneously, with a mighty volition of ungraduated, instantaneous swiftness, the White Whale darted through the weltering sea. But when Ahab cried out to the steersman to take new turns with the line, and hold it so; and commanded the crew to turn round on their seats, and tow the boat up to the mark; the moment the treacherous line felt that double strain and tug, it snapped in the empty air!

'What breaks in me? Some sinew cracks! -- 'tis whole again; oars! oars! Burst in upon him!'

Hearing the tremendous rush of the sea-crashing boat, the whale wheeled round to present his blank forehead at bay; but in that evolution, catching sight of the nearing black hull of the ship; seemingly seeing in it the source of all his persecutions; bethinking it -- it may be -- a larger and nobler foe; of a sudden, he bore down upon its advancing prow, smiting his jaws amid fiery showers of foam.

Ahab staggered; his hand smote his forehead. 'I grow blind; hands! stretch out before me that I may yet grope my way. Is't night?'

'The whale! The ship!' cried the cringing oarsmen.

'Oars! oars Slope downwards to thy depths, O sea, that ere it be for ever too late, Ahab may slide this last, last time upon his mark; I see: the ship! the ship! Dash on, my men! Will ye not save my ship?'

But as the oarsmen violently forced their boat through the sledge-hammering seas, the before whale-smitten bow-ends of two planks burst through, and in an instant almost, the temporarily disabled boat lay nearly level with the waves; its half-wading, splashing crew, trying hard to stop the gap and bale out the pouring water.

Meantime, for that one beholding instant, Tashtego's mast-head hammer remained suspended in his hand; and the red


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flag, half-wrapping him as with a plaid, then streamed itself straight out from him, as his own forward-flowing heart; while Starbuck and Stubb, standing upon the bowsprit beneath, caught sight of the down-coming monster just as soon as he.

'The whale, the whale! Up helm, up helm! Oh, all ye sweet powers of air, now hug me close! Let not Starbuck die, if die he must, in a woman's fainting fit. Up helm, I say -- ye fools, the jaw! the jaw! Is this the end of all my bursting prayers? all my life-long fidelities? Oh, Ahab, Ahab, lo, thy work. Steady! helmsman, steady. Nay, nay! Up helm again! He turns to meet us! Oh, his unappeasable brow drives on towards one, whose duty tells him he cannot depart. My God, stand by me now!'

'Stand not by me, but stand under me, whoever you are that will now help Stubb; for Stubb, too, sticks here. I grin at thee, thou grinning whale! Who ever helped Stubb, or kept Stubb awake, but Stubb's own unwinking eye? And now poor Stubb goes to bed upon a mattrass that is all too soft; would it were stuffed with brushwood! I grin at thee, thou grinning whale! Look ye, sun, moon, and stars! I call ye assassins of as good a fellow as ever spouted up his ghost. For all that, I would yet ring glasses with ye, would ye but hand the cup! Oh, oh! oh, oh! thou grinning whale, but there'll be plenty of gulping soon! Why fly ye not, O Ahab! For me, off shoes and jacket to it; let Stubb die in his drawers! A most mouldy and over salted death, though; -- cherries! cherries! cherries! Oh, Flask, for one red cherry ere we die!'

'Cherries? I only wish that we were where they grow. Oh, Stubb, I hope my poor mother's drawn my part-pay ere this; if not, few coppers will now come to her, for the voyage is up.'

From the ship's bows, nearly all the seamen now hung inactive; hammers, bits of plank, lances, and harpoons, mechanically retained in their hands, just as they had darted from their various employments; all their enchanted eyes intent upon the whale, which from side to side strangely vibrating his predestinating head, sent a broad band of overspreading semicircular foam before him as he rushed. Retribution, swift vengeance, eternal malice were in his whole aspect, and spite of all that mortal man could do, the solid white buttress of his forehead


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smote the ship's starboard bow, till men and timbers reeled. Some fell flat upon their faces. Like dislodged trucks, the heads of the harpooneers aloft shook on their bull-like necks. Through the breach, they heard the waters pour, as mountain torrents down a flume.

'The ship! The hearse! -- the second hearse!' cried Ahab from the boat; 'its wood could only be American!'

Diving beneath the settling ship, the whale ran quivering along its keel; but turning under water, swiftly shot to the surface again, far off the other bow, but within a few yards of Ahab's boat, where, for a time, he lay quiescent.

'I turn my body from the sun. What ho, Tashtego! Let me hear thy hammer. Oh! ye three unsurrendered spires of mine; thou uncracked keel; and only god-bullied hull; thou firm deck, and haughty helm, and Pole-pointed prow, -- death-glorious ship! must ye then perish, and without me? Am I cut off from the last fond pride of meanest shipwrecked captains? Oh, lonely death on lonely life! Oh, now I feel my topmost greatness lies in my topmost grief. Ho, ho! from all your furthest bounds, pour ye now in, ye bold billows of my whole foregone life, and top this one piled comber of my death! Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; to the last I grapple with thee; from hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee. Sink all coffins and all hearses to one common pool! and since neither can be mine, let me then tow to pieces, while still chasing thee, though tied to thee, thou damned whale! Thus, I give up the spear!'

The harpoon was darted; the stricken whale flew forward; with igniting velocity the line ran through the groove; -- ran foul. Ahab stooped to clear it; he did clear it; but the flying turn caught him round the neck, and voicelessly as Turkish mutes bowstring their victim, he was shot out of the boat, ere the crew knew he was gone. Next instant, the heavy eye-splice in the rope's final end flew out of the stark-empty tub, knocked down an oarsman, and smiting the sea, disappeared in its depths.

For an instant, the tranced boat's crew stood still; then turned. 'The ship? Great God, where is the ship?' Soon they through dim, bewildering mediums saw her sidelong fading phantom,


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as in the gaseous Fata Morgana; only the uppermost masts out of water; while fixed by infatuation, or fidelity, or fate, to their once lofty perches, the pagan harpooneers still maintained their sinking lookouts on the sea. And now, concentric circles seized the lone boat itself, and all its crew, and each floating oar, and every lance-pole, and spinning, animate and inanimate, all round and round in one vortex, carried the smallest chip of the Pequod out of sight.

But as the last whelmings intermixingly poured themselves over the sunken head of the Indian at the mainmast, leaving a few inches of the erect spar yet visible, together with long streaming yards of the flag, which calmly undulated, with ironical coincidings, over the destroying billows they almost touched; -- at that instant, a red arm and a hammer hovered backwardly uplifted in the open air, in the act of nailing the flag faster and yet faster to the subsiding spar. A sky-hawk that tauntingly had followed the main-truck downwards from its natural home among the stars, pecking at the flag, and incommoding Tashtego there; this bird now chanced to intercept its broad fluttering wing between the hammer and the wood; and simultaneously feeling that etherial thrill, the submerged savage beneath, in his death-gasp, kept his hammer frozen there; and so the bird of heaven, with archangelic shrieks, and his imperial beak thrust upwards, and his whole captive form folded in the flag of Ahab, went down with his ship, which, like Satan, would not sink to hell till she had dragged a living part of heaven along with her, and helmeted herself with it.

Now small fowls flew screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a sullen white surf beat against its steep sides; then all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago.

EPILOGUE

'And I only am escaped alone to tell thee.' JOB

The Drama's Done. Why then here does any one step forth? -- Because one did survive the wreck.

It so chanced, that after the Parsee's disappearance, I was he whom the Fates ordained to take the place of Ahab's bowsman, when that bowsman assumed the vacant post; the same, who, when on the last day the three men were tossed from out the rocking boat, was dropped astern. So. floating on the margin of the ensuing scene, and in full sight of it, when the half-spent suction of the sunk ship reached me, I was then, but slowly, drawn towards the closing vortex. When I reached it, it had subsided to a creamy pool. Round and round, then, and ever contracting towards the button-like black bubble at the axis of that slowly wheeling circle, like another ixion I did revolve. till gaining that vital centre, the black bubble upward burst; and now, liberated by reason of its cunning spring, and owing to its great buoyancy, rising with great force, the coffin like-buoy shot lengthwise from the sea, fell over, and floated by my side. Buoyed up by that coffin, for almost one whole day and night, I floated on a soft and dirge-like main. The unharming sharks, they glided by as if with padlocks on their mouths; the savage sea-hawks sailed with sheathed beaks. On the second day, a sail drew near, nearer, and picked me up at last. It was the devious-cruising Rachel, that in her retracing search after her missing children, only found another orphan.


finis

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The Flesh of Fallen Angels! Come to me all! Asteroth,

Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Bapholada, Lucifer, Loki, Satan,

Cthulhu, Lilith, Della! Blood, to you all!

I'm the wolf, yeah!
I am the wolf! It's close, it's coming. You have come.
The witness to the end, of time. It's now! I will rise to
her side! I don't need the words!
I'm beyond the words!
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Wed Aug 21, 2013 3:39 pm
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Post Re: POST, POST LIKE YOU NEVER POSTED BEFORE!
When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton.

Bilbo was very rich and very peculiar, and had been the wonder of the Shire for sixty years, ever since his remarkable disappearance and unexpected return. The riches he had brought back from his travels had now become a local legend, and it was popularly believed, whatever the old folk might say, that the Hill at Bag End was full of tunnels stuffed with treasure. And if that was not enough for fame, there was also his prolonged vigour to marvel at. Time wore on, but it seemed to have little effect on Mr. Baggins. At ninety he was much the same as at fifty. At ninety-nine they began to call him well-preserved, but unchanged would have been nearer the mark. There were some that shook their heads and thought this was too much of a good thing; it seemed unfair that anyone should possess (apparently) perpetual youth as well as (reputedly) inexhaustible wealth.

'It will have to be paid for,' they said. 'It isn't natural, and trouble will come of it!'

But so far trouble had not come; and as Mr. Baggins was generous with his money, most people were willing to forgive him his oddities and his good fortune. He remained on visiting terms with his relatives (except, of course, the Sackville-Bagginses), and he had many devoted admirers among the hobbits of poor and unimportant families. But he had no close friends, until some of his younger cousins began to grow up.

The eldest of these, and Bilbo's favourite, was young Frodo Baggins. When Bilbo was ninety-nine, he adopted Frodo as his heir, and brought him to live at Bag End; and the hopes of the Sackville-Bagginses were finally dashed. Bilbo and Frodo happened to have the same birthday, September 22nd. 'You had better come and live here, Frodo my lad,' said Bilbo one day; 'and then we can celebrate our birthday-parties comfortably together.' At that time Frodo was still in his tweens, as the hobbits called the irresponsible twenties between childhood and coming of age at thirty-three.

Twelve more years passed. Each year the Bagginses had given very lively combined birthday-parties at Bag End; but now it was understood that something quite exceptional was being planned for that autumn. Bilbo was going to be eleventy-one, 111, a rather curious number and a very respectable age for a hobbit (the Old Took himself had only reached 130; and Frodo was going to be thirty-three, 33) an important number: the date of his 'coming of age'.

Tongues began to wag in Hobbiton and Bywater; and rumour of the coming event travelled all over the Shire. The history and character of Mr. Bilbo Baggins became once again the chief topic of conversation; and the older folk suddenly found their reminiscences in welcome demand.

No one had a more attentive audience than old Ham Gamgee, commonly known as the Gaffer. He held forth at The Ivy Bush, a small inn on the Bywater road; and he spoke with some authority, for he had tended the garden at Bag End for forty years, and had helped old Holman in the same job before that. Now that he was himself growing old and stiff in the joints, the job was mainly carried on by his youngest son, Sam Gamgee. Both father and son were on very friendly terms with Bilbo and Frodo. They lived on the Hill itself, in Number 3 Bagshot Row just below Bag End.

'A very nice well-spoken gentlehobbit is Mr. Bilbo, as I've always said,' the Gaffer declared. With perfect truth: for Bilbo was very polite to him, calling him 'Master Hamfast', and consulting him constantly upon the growing of vegetables—in the matter of 'roots', especially potatoes, the Gaffer was recognized as the leading authority by all in the neighbourhood (including himself).

'But what about this Frodo that lives with him?' asked Old Noakes of Bywater. 'Baggins is his name, but he's more than half a Brandybuck, they say. It beats me why any Baggins of Hobbiton should go looking for a wife away there in Buckland, where folks are so queer.'

'And no wonder they're queer,' put in Daddy Twofoot (the Gaffer's next- door neighbour), 'if they live on the wrong side of the Brandywine River, and right agin the Old Forest. That's a dark bad place, if half the tales be true.'

'You're right, Dad!' said the Gaffer. 'Not that the Brandybucks of Buck- land live in the Old Forest; but they're a queer breed, seemingly. They fool about with boats on that big river . and that isn't natural. Small wonder that trouble came of it, I say. But be that as it may, Mr. Frodo is as nice a young hobbit as you could wish to meet. Very much like Mr. Bilbo, and in more than looks. After all his father was a Baggins. A decent respectable hobbit was Mr. Drogo Baggins; there was never much to tell of him, till he was drownded.'

'Drownded?' said several voices. They had heard this and other darker rumours before, of course; but hobbits have a passion for family history, and they were ready to hear it again. 'Well, so they say,' said the Gaffer. 'You see: Mr. Drogo, he married poor Miss Primula Brandybuck. She was our Mr. Bilbo's first cousin on the mother's side (her mother being the youngest of the Old Took's daughters); and Mr. Drogo was his second cousin. So Mr. Frodo is his first and second cousin, once removed either way, as the saying is, if you follow me. And Mr. Drogo was staying at Brandy Hall with his father-in- law, old Master Gorbadoc, as he often did after his marriage (him being partial to his vittles, and old Gorbadoc keeping a mighty generous table); and he went out boating on the Brandywine River; and he and his wife were drownded, and poor Mr. Frodo only a child and all. '

'I've heard they went on the water after dinner in the moonlight,' said Old Noakes; 'and it was Drogo's weight as sunk the boat.'

'And I heard she pushed him in, and he pulled her in after him,' said Sandyman, the Hobbiton miller.

'You shouldn't listen to all you hear, Sandyman,' said the Gaffer, who did not much like the miller. 'There isn't no call to go talking of pushing and pulling. Boats are quite tricky enough for those that sit still without looking further for the cause of trouble. Anyway: there was this Mr. Frodo left an orphan and stranded, as you might say, among those queer Bucklanders, being brought up anyhow in Brandy Hall. A regular warren, by all accounts. Old Master Gorbadoc never had fewer than a couple of hundred relations in the place. Mr. Bilbo never did a kinder deed than when he brought the lad back to live among decent folk.

'But I reckon it was a nasty shock for those Sackville-Bagginses. They thought they were going to get Bag End, that time when he went off and was thought to be dead. And then he comes back and orders them off; and he goes on living and living, and never looking a day older, bless him! And suddenly he produces an heir, and has all the papers made out proper. The Sackville- Bagginses won't never see the inside of Bag End now, or it is to be hoped not.'

'There's a tidy bit of money tucked away up there, I hear tell,' said a stranger, a visitor on business from Michel Delving in the Westfarthing. 'All the top of your hill is full of tunnels packed with chests of gold and silver, and jools, by what I've heard. '

'Then you've heard more than I can speak to,' answered the Gaffer. I know nothing about jools. Mr. Bilbo is free with his money, and there seems no lack of it; but I know of no tunnel-making. I saw Mr. Bilbo when he came back, a matter of sixty years ago, when I was a lad. I'd not long come prentice to old Holman (him being my dad's cousin), but he had me up at Bag End helping him to keep folks from trampling and trapessing all over the garden while the sale was on. And in the middle of it all Mr. Bilbo comes up the Hill with a pony and some mighty big bags and a couple of chests. I don't doubt they were mostly full of treasure he had picked up in foreign parts, where there be mountains of gold, they say; but there wasn't enough to fill tunnels. But my lad Sam will know more about that. He's in and out of Bag End. Crazy about stories of the old days he is, and he listens to all Mr. Bilbo's tales. Mr. Bilbo has learned him his letters . meaning no harm, mark you, and I hope no harm will come of it.

'Elves and Dragons' I says to him. 'Cabbages and potatoes are better for me and you. Don't go getting mixed up in the business of your betters, or you'll land in trouble too big for you,' I says to him. And I might say it to others,' he added with a look at the stranger and the miller.

But the Gaffer did not convince his audience. The legend of Bilbo's wealth was now too firmly fixed in the minds of the younger generation of hobbits.

'Ah, but he has likely enough been adding to what he brought at first,' argued the miller, voicing common opinion. 'He's often away from home. And look at the outlandish folk that visit him: dwarves coming at night, and that old wandering conjuror, Gandalf, and all. You can say what you like, Gaffer, but Bag End's a queer place, and its folk are queerer.'

'And you can say what you like, about what you know no more of than you do of boating, Mr. Sandyman,' retorted the Gaffer, disliking the miller even more than usual. If that's being queer, then we could do with a bit more queerness in these parts. There's some not far away that wouldn't offer a pint of beer to a friend, if they lived in a hole with golden walls. But they do things proper at Bag End. Our Sam says that everyone's going to be invited to the party, and there's going to be presents, mark you, presents for all—this very month as is.'

That very month was September, and as fine as you could ask. A day or two later a rumour (probably started by the knowledgeable Sam) was spread about that there were going to be fireworks . fireworks, what is more, such as had not been seen in the Shire for nigh on a century, not indeed since the Old Took died.

Days passed and The Day drew nearer. An odd-looking waggon laden with odd-looking packages rolled into Hobbiton one evening and toiled up the Hill to Bag End. The startled hobbits peered out of lamplit doors to gape at it. It was driven by outlandish folk, singing strange songs: dwarves with long beards and deep hoods. A few of them remained at Bag End. At the end of the second week in September a cart came in through Bywater from the direction of the Brandywine Bridge in broad daylight. An old man was driving it all alone. He wore a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, and a silver scarf. He had a long white beard and bushy eyebrows that stuck out beyond the brim of his hat. Small hobbit-children ran after the cart all through Hobbiton and right up the hill. It had a cargo of fireworks, as they rightly guessed. At Bilbo's front door the old man began to unload: there were great bundles of fireworks of all sorts and shapes, each labelled with a large red G and the elf-rune, .

That was Gandalf's mark, of course, and the old man was Gandalf the Wizard, whose fame in the Shire was due mainly to his skill with fires, smokes, and lights. His real business was far more difficult and dangerous, but the Shire-folk knew nothing about it. To them he was just one of the 'attractions' at the Party. Hence the excitement of the hobbit-children. 'G for Grand!' they shouted, and the old man smiled. They knew him by sight, though he only appeared in Hobbiton occasionally and never stopped long; but neither they nor any but the oldest of their elders had seen one of his firework displays . they now belonged to the legendary past.

When the old man, helped by Bilbo and some dwarves, had finished unloading, Bilbo gave a few pennies away; but not a single squib or cracker was forthcoming, to the disappointment of the onlookers.

'Run away now!' said Gandalf. 'You will get plenty when the time comes.' Then he disappeared inside with Bilbo, and the door was shut. The young hobbits stared at the door in vain for a while, and then made off, feeling that the day of the party would never come.

Inside Bag End, Bilbo and Gandalf were sitting at the open window of a small room looking out west on to the garden. The late afternoon was bright and peaceful. The flowers glowed red and golden: snap-dragons and sun-flowers, and nasturtiums trailing all over the turf walls and peeping in at the round windows.

'How bright your garden looks!' said Gandalf.

'Yes,' said Bilbo. I am very fond indeed of it, and of all the dear old Shire; but I think I need a holiday.'

'You mean to go on with your plan then?'

'I do. I made up my mind months ago, and I haven't changed it.'

'Very well. It is no good saying any more. Stick to your plan, your whole plan, mind, and I hope it will turn out for the best, for you, and for all of us.'

'I hope so. Anyway I mean to enjoy myself on Thursday, and have my little joke.'

'Who will laugh, I wonder?' said Gandalf, shaking his head.

'We shall see,' said Bilbo.

The next day more carts rolled up the Hill, and still more carts. There might have been some grumbling about 'dealing locally', but that very week orders began to pour out of Bag End for every kind of provision, commodity, or luxury that could be obtained in Hobbiton or Bywater or anywhere in the neighbourhood. People became enthusiastic; and they began to tick off the days on the calendar; and they watched eagerly for the postman, hoping for invitations.

Before long the invitations began pouring out, and the Hobbiton post- office was blocked, and the Bywater post-office was snowed under, and voluntary assistant postmen were called for. There was a constant stream of them going up the Hill, carrying hundreds of polite variations on Thank you, I shall certainly come.

A notice appeared on the gate at Bag End: NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT ON PARTY BUSINESS. Even those who had, or pretended to have Party Business were seldom allowed inside. Bilbo was busy: writing invitations, ticking off answers, packing up presents, and making some private preparations of his own. From the time of Gandalf's arrival he remained hidden from view.

One morning the hobbits woke to find the large field, south of Bilbo's front door, covered with ropes and poles for tents and pavilions. A special entrance was cut into the bank leading to the road, and wide steps and a large white gate were built there. The three hobbit-families of Bagshot Row, adjoining the field, were intensely interested and generally envied. Old Gaffer Gamgee stopped even pretending to work in his garden.

The tents began to go up. There was a specially large pavilion, so big that the tree that grew in the field was right inside it, and stood proudly near one end, at the head of the chief table. Lanterns were hung on all its branches. More promising still (to the hobbits' mind): an enormous open-air kitchen was erected in the north corner of the field. A draught of cooks, from every inn and eating-house for miles around, arrived to supplement the dwarves and other odd folk that were quartered at Bag End. Excitement rose to its height.

Then the weather clouded over. That was on Wednesday the eve of the Party. Anxiety was intense. Then Thursday, September the 22nd, actually dawned. The sun got up, the clouds vanished, flags were unfurled and the fun began.

Bilbo Baggins called it a party, but it was really a variety of entertainments rolled into one. Practically everybody living near was invited. A very few were overlooked by accident, but as they turned up all the same, that did not matter. Many people from other parts of the Shire were also asked; and there were even a few from outside the borders. Bilbo met the guests (and additions) at the new white gate in person. He gave away presents to all and sundry . the latter were those who went out again by a back way and came in again by the gate. Hobbits give presents to other people on their own birthdays. Not very expensive ones, as a rule, and not so lavishly as on this occasion; but it was not a bad system. Actually in Hobbiton and Bywater every day in the year it was somebody's birthday, so that every hobbit in those parts had a fair chance of at least one present at least once a week. But they never got tired of them.

On this occasion the presents were unusually good. The hobbit-children were so excited that for a while they almost forgot about eating. There were toys the like of which they had never seen before, all beautiful and some obviously magical. Many of them had indeed been ordered a year before, and had come all the way from the Mountain and from Dale, and were of real dwarf-make.

When every guest had been welcomed and was finally inside the gate, there were songs, dances, music, games, and, of course, food and drink. There were three official meals: lunch, tea, and dinner (or supper). But lunch and tea were marked chiefly by the fact that at those times all the guests were sitting down and eating together. At other times there were merely lots of people eating and drinking continuously from elevenses until six-thirty, when the fireworks started.

The fireworks were by Gandalf: they were not only brought by him, but designed and made by him; and the special effects, set pieces, and flights of rockets were let off by him. But there was also a generous distribution of squibs, crackers, backarappers, sparklers, torches, dwarf-candles, elf- fountains, goblin-barkers and thunder-claps. They were all superb. The art of Gandalf improved with age.

There were rockets like a flight of scintillating birds singing with sweet voices. There were green trees with trunks of dark smoke: their leaves opened like a whole spring unfolding in a moment, and their shining branches dropped glowing flowers down upon the astonished hobbits, disappearing with a sweet scent just before they touched their upturned faces. There were fountains of butterflies that flew glittering into the trees; there were pillars of coloured fires that rose and turned into eagles, or sailing ships, or a phalanx of flying swans; there was a red thunderstorm and a shower of yellow rain; there was a forest of silver spears that sprang suddenly into the air with a yell like an embattled army, and came down again into the Water with a hiss like a hundred hot snakes. And there was also one last surprise, in honour of Bilbo, and it startled the hobbits exceedingly, as Gandalf intended. The lights went out. A great smoke went up. It shaped itself like a mountain seen in the distance, and began to glow at the summit. It spouted green and scarlet flames. Out flew a red-golden dragon . not life-size, but terribly life-like: fire came from his jaws, his eyes glared down; there was a roar, and he whizzed three times over the heads of the crowd. They all ducked, and many fell flat on their faces. The dragon passed like an express train, turned a somersault, and burst over Bywater with a deafening explosion.

'That is the signal for supper!' said Bilbo. The pain and alarm vanished at once, and the prostrate hobbits leaped to their feet. There was a splendid supper for everyone; for everyone, that is, except those invited to the special family dinner-party. This was held in the great pavilion with the tree. The invitations were limited to twelve dozen (a number also called by the hobbits one Gross, though the word was not considered proper to use of people); and the guests were selected from all the families to which Bilbo and Frodo were related, with the addition of a few special unrelated friends (such as Gandalf). Many young hobbits were included, and present by parental permission; for hobbits were easy-going with their children in the matter of sitting up late, especially when there was a chance of getting them a free meal. Bringing up young hobbits took a lot of provender.

There were many Bagginses and Boffins, and also many Tooks and Brandybucks; there were various Grubbs (relations of Bilbo Baggins' grandmother), and various Chubbs (connexions of his Took grandfather); and a selection of Burrowses, Bolgers, Bracegirdles, Brockhouses, Goodbodies, Hornblowers and Proudfoots. Some of these were only very distantly connected with Bilbo, and some of them had hardly ever been in Hobbiton before, as they lived in remote corners of the Shire. The Sackville-Bagginses were not forgotten. Otho and his wife Lobelia were present. They disliked Bilbo and detested Frodo, but so magnificent was the invitation card, written in golden ink, that they had felt it was impossible to refuse. Besides, their cousin, Bilbo, had been specializing in food for many years and his table had a high reputation.

All the one hundred and forty-four guests expected a pleasant feast; though they rather dreaded the after-dinner speech of their host (an inevitable item). He was liable to drag in bits of what he called poetry; and sometimes, after a glass or two, would allude to the absurd adventures of his mysterious journey. The guests were not disappointed: they had a very pleasant feast, in fact an engrossing entertainment: rich, abundant, varied, and prolonged. The purchase of provisions fell almost to nothing throughout the district in the ensuing weeks; but as Bilbo's catering had depleted the stocks of most stores, cellars and warehouses for miles around, that did not matter much.

After the feast (more or less) came the Speech. Most of the company were, however, now in a tolerant mood, at that delightful stage which they called 'filling up the corners'. They were sipping their favourite drinks, and nibbling at their favourite dainties, and their fears were forgotten. They were prepared to listen to anything, and to cheer at every full stop.

My dear People, began Bilbo, rising in his place. 'Hear! Hear! Hear!' they shouted, and kept on repeating it in chorus, seeming reluctant to follow their own advice. Bilbo left his place and went and stood on a chair under the illuminated tree. The light of the lanterns fell on his beaming face; the golden buttons shone on his embroidered silk waistcoat. They could all see him standing, waving one hand in the air, the other was in his trouser-pocket.

My dear Bagginses and Boffins, he began again; and my dear Tooks and Brandybucks, and Grubbs, and Chubbs, and Burrowses, and Hornblowers, and Bolgers, Bracegirdles, Goodbodies, Brockhouses and Proudfoots. 'ProudFEET!' shouted an elderly hobbit from the back of the pavilion. His name, of course, was Proudfoot, and well merited; his feet were large, exceptionally furry, and both were on the table.

Proudfoots, repeated Bilbo. Also my good Sackville-Bagginses that I welcome back at last to Bag End. Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday: I am eleventy-one today! 'Hurray! Hurray! Many Happy Returns!' they shouted, and they hammered joyously on the tables. Bilbo was doing splendidly. This was the sort of stuff they liked: short and obvious.

I hope you are all enjoying yourselves as much as I am. Deafening cheers. Cries of Yes (and No). Noises of trumpets and horns, pipes and flutes, and other musical instruments. There were, as has been said, many young hobbits present. Hundreds of musical crackers had been pulled. Most of them bore the mark DALE on them; which did not convey much to most of the hobbits, but they all agreed they were marvellous crackers. They contained instruments, small, but of perfect make and enchanting tones. Indeed, in one corner some of the young Tooks and Brandybucks, supposing Uncle Bilbo to have finished (since he had plainly said all that was necessary), now got up an impromptu orchestra, and began a merry dance-tune. Master Everard Took and Miss Melilot Brandybuck got on a table and with bells in their hands began to dance the Springle-ring: a pretty dance, but rather vigorous.

But Bilbo had not finished. Seizing a horn from a youngster near by, he blew three loud hoots. The noise subsided. I shall not keep you long, he cried. Cheers from all the assembly. I have called you all together for a Purpose. Something in the way that he said this made an impression. There was almost silence, and one or two of the Tooks pricked up their ears.

Indeed, for Three Purposes! First of all, to tell you that I am immensely fond of you all, and that eleventy-one years is too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits. Tremendous outburst of approval.

I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. This was unexpected and rather difficult. There was some scattered clapping, but most of them were trying to work it out and see if it came to a compliment.

Secondly, to celebrate my birthday. Cheers again. I should say: OUR birthday. For it is, of course, also the birthday of my heir and nephew, Frodo. He comes of age and into his inheritance today. Some perfunctory clapping by the elders; and some loud shouts of 'Frodo! Frodo! Jolly old Frodo,' from the juniors. The Sackville-Bagginses scowled, and wondered what was meant by 'coming into his inheritance'. Together we score one hundred and forty-four. Your numbers were chosen to fit this remarkable total: One Gross, if I may use the expression. No cheers. This was ridiculous. Many of his guests, and especially the Sackville-Bagginses, were insulted, feeling sure they had only been asked to fill up the required number, like goods in a package. 'One Gross, indeed! Vulgar expression.'

It is also, if I may be allowed to refer to ancient history, the anniversary of my arrival by barrel at Esgaroth on the Long Lake; though the fact that it was my birthday slipped my memory on that occasion. I was only fifty-one then, and birthdays did not seem so important. The banquet was very splendid, however, though I had a bad cold at the time, I remember, and could only say 'thag you very buch'. I now repeat it more correctly: Thank you very much for coming to my little party. Obstinate silence. They all feared that a song or some poetry was now imminent; and they were getting bored. Why couldn't he stop talking and let them drink his health? But Bilbo did not sing or recite. He paused for a moment.

Thirdly and finally, he said, I wish to make an ANNOUNCEMENT. He spoke this last word so loudly and suddenly that everyone sat up who still could. I regret to announce that, though, as I said, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to spend among you, this is the END. I am going. I am leaving NOW. GOOD-BYE!

He stepped down and vanished. There was a blinding flash of light, and the guests all blinked. When they opened their eyes Bilbo was nowhere to be seen. One hundred and forty-four flabbergasted hobbits sat back speechless. Old Odo Proudfoot removed his feet from the table and stamped. Then there was a dead silence, until suddenly, after several deep breaths, every Baggins, Boffin, Took, Brandybuck, Grubb, Chubb, Burrows, Bolger, Bracegirdle, Brockhouse, Goodbody, Hornblower, and Proudfoot began to talk at once.

It was generally agreed that the joke was in very bad taste, and more food and drink were needed to cure the guests of shock and annoyance. 'He's mad. I always said so,' was probably the most popular comment. Even the Tooks (with a few exceptions) thought Bilbo's behaviour was absurd. For the moment most of them took it for granted that his disappearance was nothing more than a ridiculous prank.

But old Rory Brandybuck was not so sure. Neither age nor an enormous dinner had clouded his wits, and he said to his daughter-in-law, Esmeralda: 'There's something fishy in this, my dear! I believe that mad Baggins is off again. Silly old fool. But why worry? He hasn't taken the vittles with him.' He called loudly to Frodo to send the wine round again.

Frodo was the only one present who had said nothing. For some time he had sat silent beside Bilbo's empty chair, and ignored all remarks and questions. He had enjoyed the joke, of course, even though he had been in the know. He had difficulty in keeping from laughter at the indignant surprise of the guests. But at the same time he felt deeply troubled: he realized suddenly that he loved the old hobbit dearly. Most of the guests went on eating and drinking and discussing Bilbo Baggins' oddities, past and present; but the Sackville-Bagginses had already departed in wrath. Frodo did not want to have any more to do with the party. He gave orders for more wine to be served; then he got up and drained his own glass silently to the health of Bilbo, and slipped out of the pavilion.

As for Bilbo Baggins, even while he was making his speech, he had been fingering the golden ring in his pocket: his magic ring that he had kept secret for so many years. As he stepped down he slipped it on his finger, and he was never seen by any hobbit in Hobbiton again.

He walked briskly back to his hole, and stood for a moment listening with a smile to the din in the pavilion and to the sounds of merrymaking in other parts of the field. Then he went in. He took off his party clothes, folded up and wrapped in tissue-paper his embroidered silk waistcoat, and put it away. Then he put on quickly some old untidy garments, and fastened round his waist a worn leather belt. On it he hung a short sword in a battered black-leather scabbard. From a locked drawer, smelling of moth-balls, he took out an old cloak and hood. They had been locked up as if they were very precious, but they were so patched and weatherstained that their original colour could hardly be guessed: it might have been dark green. They were rather too large for him. He then went into his study, and from a large strong-box took out a bundle wrapped in old cloths, and a leather-bound manuscript; and also a large bulky envelope. The book and bundle he stuffed into the top of a heavy bag that was standing there, already nearly full. Into the envelope he slipped his golden ring, and its fine chain, and then sealed it, and addressed it to Frodo. At first he put it on the mantelpiece, but suddenly he removed it and stuck it in his pocket. At that moment the door opened and Gandalf came quickly in.

'Hullo!' said Bilbo. 'I wondered if you would turn up.'

'I am glad to find you visible,' replied the wizard, sitting down in a chair, 'I wanted to catch you and have a few final words. I suppose you feel that everything has gone off splendidly and according to plan?'

'Yes, I do,' said Bilbo. "Though that flash was surprising: it quite startled me, let alone the others. A little addition of your own, I suppose?'

It was. You have wisely kept that ring secret all these years, and it seemed to me necessary to give your guests something else that would seem to explain your sudden vanishment.'

'And would spoil my joke. You are an interfering old busybody,' laughed Bilbo, 'but I expect you know best, as usual.'

'I do . when I know anything. But I don't feel too sure about this whole affair. It has now come to the final point. You have had your joke, and alarmed or offended most of your relations, and given the whole Shire something to talk about for nine days, or ninety-nine more likely. Are you going any further?'

'Yes, I am. I feel I need a holiday, a very long holiday, as I have told you before. Probably a permanent holiday: I don't expect I shall return. In fact, I don't mean to, and I have made all arrangements.

'I am old, Gandalf. I don't look it, but I am beginning to feel it in my heart of hearts. Well-preserved indeed!' he snorted. 'Why, I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped over too much bread. That can't be right. I need a change, or something.'

Gandalf looked curiously and closely at him. 'No, it does not seem right,' he said thoughtfully. 'No, after all I believe your plan is probably the best.'

'Well, I've made up my mind, anyway. I want to see mountains again, Gandalf, mountains, and then find somewhere where I can rest. In peace and quiet, without a lot of relatives prying around, and a string of confounded visitors hanging on the bell. I might find somewhere where I can finish my book. I have thought of a nice ending for it: and he lived happily ever after to the end of his days.'

Gandalf laughed. I hope he will. But nobody will read the book, however it ends.'

'Oh, they may, in years to come. Frodo has read some already, as far as it has gone. You'll keep an eye on Frodo, won't you?'

'Yes, I will . two eyes, as often as I can spare them.'

'He would come with me, of course, if I asked him. In fact he offered to once, just before the party. But he does not really want to, yet. I want to see the wild country again before I die, and the Mountains; but he is still in love with the Shire, with woods and fields and little rivers. He ought to be comfortable here. I am leaving everything to him, of course, except a few oddments. I hope he will be happy, when he gets used to being on his own. It's time he was his own master now.'

'Everything?' said Gandalf. 'The ring as well? You agreed to that, you remember.'

'Well, er, yes, I suppose so,' stammered Bilbo.

'Where is it?'

'In an envelope, if you must know,' said Bilbo impatiently. 'There on the mantelpiece. Well, no! Here it is in my pocket!' He hesitated. 'Isn't that odd now?' he said softly to himself. 'Yet after all, why not? Why shouldn't it stay there?'

Gandalf looked again very hard at Bilbo, and there was a gleam in his eyes. 'I think, Bilbo,' he said quietly, 'I should leave it behind. Don't you want to?'

'Well yes . and no. Now it comes to it, I don't like parting with it at all, I may say. And I don't really see why I should. Why do you want me to?' he asked, and a curious change came over his voice. It was sharp with suspicion and annoyance. 'You are always badgering me about my ring; but you have never bothered me about the other things that I got on my journey.'

'No, but I had to badger you,' said Gandalf. 'I wanted the truth. It was important. Magic rings are . well, magical; and they are rare and curious. I was professionally interested in your ring, you may say; and I still am. I should like to know where it is, if you go wandering again. Also I think you have had it quite long enough. You won't need it any more. Bilbo, unless I am quite mistaken.'

Bilbo flushed, and there was an angry light in his eyes. His kindly face grew hard. 'Why not?' he cried. 'And what business is it of yours, anyway, to know what I do with my own things? It is my own. I found it. It came to me.'

'Yes, yes,' said Gandalf. 'But there is no need to get angry.'

'If I am it is your fault,' said Bilbo. 'It is mine, I tell you. My own. My precious. Yes, my precious.'

The wizard's face remained grave and attentive, and only a flicker in his deep eyes showed that he was startled and indeed alarmed. 'It has been called that before,' he said, 'but not by you.'

'But I say it now. And why not? Even if Gollum said the same once. It's not his now, but mine. And I shall keep it, I say.'

Gandalf stood up. He spoke sternly. 'You will be a fool if you do. Bilbo,' he said. 'You make that clearer with every word you say. It has got far too much hold on you. Let it go! And then you can go yourself, and be free.'

'I'll do as I choose and go as I please,' said Bilbo obstinately.

'Now, now, my dear hobbit! ' said Gandalf. 'All your long life we have been friends, and you owe me something. Come! Do as you promised: give it up!

'Well, if you want my ring yourself, say so!' cried Bilbo. 'But you won't get it. I won't give my precious away, I tell you.' His hand strayed to the hilt of his small sword.

Gandalf's eyes flashed. It will be my turn to get angry soon,' he said. If you say that again, I shall. Then you will see Gandalf the Grey uncloaked.' He took a step towards the hobbit, and he seemed to grow tall and menacing; his shadow filled the little room.

Bilbo backed away to the wall, breathing hard, his hand clutching at his pocket. They stood for a while facing one another, and the air of the room tingled. Gandalf's eyes remained bent on the hobbit. Slowly his hands relaxed, and he began to tremble.

'I don't know what has come over you, Gandalf,' he said. 'You have never been like this before. What is it all about? It is mine isn't it? I found it, and Gollum would have killed me, if I hadn't kept it. I'm not a thief, whatever he said.'

'I have never called you one,' Gandalf answered. 'And I am not one either. I am not trying to rob you, but to help you. I wish you would trust me, as you used.' He turned away, and the shadow passed. He seemed to dwindle again to an old grey man, bent and troubled.

Bilbo drew his hand over his eyes. I am sorry,' he said. 'But I felt so queer. And yet it would be a relief in a way not to be bothered with it any more. It has been so growing on my mind lately. Sometimes I have felt it was like an eye looking at me. And I am always wanting to put it on and disappear, don't you know; or wondering if it is safe, and pulling it out to make sure. I tried locking it up, but I found I couldn't rest without it in my pocket. I don't know why. And I don't seem able to make up my mind.'

'Then trust mine,' said Gandalf. 'It is quite made up. Go away and leave it behind. Stop possessing it. Give it to Frodo, and I will look after him.'

Bilbo stood for a moment tense and undecided. Presently he sighed. 'All right,' he said with an effort. I will.' Then he shrugged his shoulders, and smiled rather ruefully. 'After all that's what this party business was all about, really: to give away lots of birthday presents, and somehow make it easier to give it away at the same time. It hasn't made it any easier in the end, but it would be a pity to waste all my preparations. It would quite spoil the joke.'

'Indeed it would take away the only point I ever saw in the affair,' said Gandalf.

'Very well,' said Bilbo, 'it goes to Frodo with all the rest.' He drew a deep breath. 'And now I really must be starting, or somebody else will catch me. I have said good-bye, and I couldn't bear to do it all over again.' He picked up his bag and moved to the door.

'You have still got the ring in your pocket,' said the wizard. 'Well, so I have!' cried Bilbo. 'And my will and all the other documents too. You had better take it and deliver it for me. That will be safest.'

'No, don't give the ring to me,' said Gandalf. 'Put it on the mantelpiece. It will be safe enough there, till Frodo comes. I shall wait for him.'

Bilbo took out the envelope, but just as he was about to set it by the clock, his hand jerked back, and the packet fell on the floor. Before he could pick it up, the wizard stooped and seized it and set it in its place. A spasm of anger passed swiftly over the hobbit's face again. Suddenly it gave way to a look of relief and a laugh. 'Well, that's that,' he said. 'Now I'm off!'

They went out into the hall. Bilbo chose his favourite stick from the stand; then he whistled. Three dwarves came out of different rooms where they had been busy.

'Is everything ready?' asked Bilbo. 'Everything packed and labelled?'

'Everything,' they answered.

'Well, let's start then!' He stepped out of the front-door.

It was a fine night, and the black sky was dotted with stars. He looked up, sniffing the air. 'What fun! What fun to be off again, off on the Road with dwarves! This is what I have really been longing for, for years! Good- bye! ' he said, looking at his old home and bowing to the door. 'Good-bye, Gandalf!'

'Good-bye, for the present, Bilbo. Take care of yourself! You are old enough, and perhaps wise enough.'

'Take care! I don't care. Don't you worry about me! I am as happy now as I have ever been, and that is saying a great deal. But the time has come. I am being swept off my feet at last,' he added, and then in a low voice, as if to himself, he sang softly in the dark:

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

He paused, silent for a moment. Then without another word he turned away from the lights and voices in the fields and tents, and followed by his three companions went round into his garden, and trotted down the long sloping path. He jumped over a low place in the hedge at the bottom, and took to the meadows, passing into the night like a rustle of wind in the grass.

Gandalf remained for a while staring after him into the darkness. 'Goodbye, my dear Bilbo . until our next meeting!' he said softly and went back indoors.

Frodo came in soon afterwards, and found him sitting in the dark, deep in thought. 'Has he gone?' he asked.

'Yes,' answered Gandalf, 'he has gone at last.'

' I wish . I mean, I hoped until this evening that it was only a joke,' said Frodo. 'But I knew in my heart that he really meant to go. He always used to joke about serious things. I wish I had come back sooner, just to see him off.'

I think really he preferred slipping off quietly in the end,' said Gandalf. 'Don't be too troubled. He'll be all right . now. He left a packet for you. There it is!'

Frodo took the envelope from the mantelpiece, and glanced at it, but did not open it.

'You'll find his will and all the other documents in there, I think,' said the wizard. 'You are the master of Bag End now. And also, I fancy, you'll find a golden ring.'

'The ring!' exclaimed Frodo. 'Has he left me that? I wonder why. Still, it may be useful.'

'It may, and it may not,' said Gandalf. 'I should not make use of it, if I were you. But keep it secret, and keep it safe! Now I am going to bed.'

As master of Bag End Frodo felt it his painful duty to say good-bye to the guests. Rumours of strange events had by now spread all over the field, but Frodo would only say no doubt everything will be cleared up in the morning. About midnight carriages came for the important folk. One by one they rolled away, filled with full but very unsatisfied hobbits. Gardeners came by arrangement, and removed in wheel-barrows those that had inadvertently remained behind.

Night slowly passed. The sun rose. The hobbits rose rather later. Morning went on. People came and began (by orders) to clear away the pavilions and the tables and the chairs, and the spoons and knives and bottles and plates, and the lanterns, and the flowering shrubs in boxes, and the crumbs and cracker- paper, the forgotten bags and gloves and handkerchiefs, and the uneaten food (a very small item). Then a number of other people came (without orders): Bagginses, and Boffins, and Bolgers, and Tooks, and other guests that lived or were staying near. By mid-day, when even the best-fed were out and about again, there was a large crowd at Bag End, uninvited but not unexpected.

Frodo was waiting on the step, smiling, but looking rather tired and worried. He welcomed all the callers, but he had not much more to say than before. His reply to all inquiries was simply this: 'Mr. Bilbo Baggins has gone away; as far as I know, for good.' Some of the visitors he invited to come inside, as Bilbo had left 'messages' for them.

Inside in the hall there was piled a large assortment of packages and parcels and small articles of furniture. On every item there was a label tied. There were several labels of this sort:

For ADELARD TOOK, for his VERY OWN, from Bilbo, on an umbrella. Adelard had carried off many unlabelled ones.

For DORA BAGGINS in memory of a LONG correspondence, with love from Bilbo, on a large waste-paper basket. Dora was Drogo's sister and the eldest surviving female relative of Bilbo and Frodo; she was ninety-nine, and had written reams of good advice for more than half a century.

For MILO BURROWS, hoping it will be useful, from B.B., on a gold pen and ink-bottle. Milo never answered letters.

For ANGELICA'S use, from Uncle Bilbo, on a round convex mirror. She was a young Baggins, and too obviously considered her face shapely.

For the collection of HUGO BRACEGIRDLE, from a contributor, on an (empty) book-case. Hugo was a great borrower of books, and worse than usual at returning them.

For LOBELIA SACKVILLE-BAGGINS, as a PRESENT, on a case of silver spoons. Bilbo believed that she had acquired a good many of his spoons, while he was away on his former journey. Lobelia knew that quite well. When she arrived later in the day, she took the point at once, but she also took the spoons.

This is only a small selection of the assembled presents. Bilbo's residence had got rather cluttered up with things in the course of his long life. It was a tendency of hobbit-holes to get cluttered up: for which the custom of giving so many birthday-presents was largely responsible. Not, of course, that the birthday-presents were always new, there were one or two old mathoms of forgotten uses that had circulated all around the district; but Bilbo had usually given new presents, and kept those that he received. The old hole was now being cleared a little.

Every one of the various parting gifts had labels, written out personally by Bilbo, and several had some point, or some joke. But, of course, most of the things were given where they would be wanted and welcome. The poorer hobbits, and especially those of Bagshot Row, did very well. Old Gaffer Gamgee got two sacks of potatoes, a new spade, a woollen waistcoat, and a bottle of ointment for creaking joints. Old Rory Brandybuck, in return for much hospitality, got a dozen bottles of Old Winyards: a strong red wine from the Southfarthing, and now quite mature, as it had been laid down by Bilbo's father. Rory quite forgave Bilbo, and voted him a capital fellow after the first bottle.

There was plenty of everything left for Frodo. And, of course, all the chief treasures, as well as the books, pictures, and more than enough furniture, were left in his possession. There was, however, no sign nor mention of money or jewellery: not a penny-piece or a glass bead was given away.

Frodo had a very trying time that afternoon. A false rumour that the whole household was being distributed free spread like wildfire; and before long the place was packed with people who had no business there, but could not be kept out. Labels got torn off and mixed, and quarrels broke out. Some people tried to do swaps and deals in the hall; and others tried to make off with minor items not addressed to them, or with anything that seemed unwanted or unwatched. The road to the gate was blocked with barrows and handcarts.

In the middle of the commotion the Sackville-Bagginses arrived. Frodo had retired for a while and left his friend Merry Brandybuck to keep an eye on things. When Otho loudly demanded to see Frodo, Merry bowed politely.

'He is indisposed,' he said. 'He is resting.'

'Hiding, you mean,' said Lobelia. 'Anyway we want to see him and we mean to see him. Just go and tell him so!'

Merry left them a long while in the hall, and they had time to discover their parting gift of spoons. It did not improve their tempers. Eventually they were shown into the study. Frodo was sitting at a table with a lot of papers in front of him. He looked indisposed . to see Sackville-Bagginses at any rate; and he stood up, fidgeting with something in his pocket. But he spoke quite politely.

The Sackville-Bagginses were rather offensive. They began by offering him bad bargain-prices (as between friends) for various valuable and unlabelled things. When Frodo replied that only the things specially directed by Bilbo were being given away, they said the whole affair was very fishy.

'Only one thing is clear to me,' said Otho, 'and that is that you are doing exceedingly well out of it. I insist on seeing the will.'

Otho would have been Bilbo's heir, but for the adoption of Frodo. He read the will carefully and snorted. It was, unfortunately, very clear and correct (according to the legal customs of hobbits, which demand among other things seven signatures of witnesses in red ink).

'Foiled again!' he said to his wife. 'And after waiting sixty years, Spoons? Fiddlesticks!' He snapped his fingers under Frodo's nose and slumped off. But Lobelia was not so easily got rid of. A little later Frodo came out of the study to see how things were going on and found her still about the place, investigating nooks and comers and tapping the floors. He escorted her firmly off the premises, after he had relieved her of several small (but rather valuable) articles that had somehow fallen inside her umbrella. Her face looked as if she was in the throes of thinking out a really crushing parting remark; but all she found to say, turning round on the step, was:

'You'll live to regret it, young fellow! Why didn't you go too? You don't belong here; you're no Baggins . you . you're a Brandybuck!'

'Did you hear that, Merry? That was an insult, if you like,' said Frodo as he shut the door on her.

'It was a compliment,' said Merry Brandybuck, 'and so, of course, not true.'

Then they went round the hole, and evicted three young hobbits (two Boffins and a Bolger) who were knocking holes in the walls of one of the cellars. Frodo also had a tussle with young Sancho Proudfoot (old Odo Proudfoot's grandson), who had begun an excavation in the larger pantry, where he thought there was an echo. The legend of Bilbo's gold excited both curiosity and hope; for legendary gold (mysteriously obtained, if not positively ill-gotten), is, as every one knows, any one's for the finding . unless the search is interrupted.

When he had overcome Sancho and pushed him out, Frodo collapsed on a chair in the hall. It's time to close the shop, Merry,' he said. 'Lock the door, and don't open it to anyone today, not even if they bring a battering ram.' Then he went to revive himself with a belated cup of tea.

He had hardly sat down, when there came a soft knock at the front-door. 'Lobelia again most likely,' he thought. 'She must have thought of something really nasty, and have come back again to say it. It can wait.'

He went on with his tea. The knock was repeated, much louder, but he took no notice. Suddenly the wizard's head appeared at the window.

'If you don't let me in, Frodo, I shall blow your door right down your hole and out through the hill,' he said.

'My dear Gandalf! Half a minute!' cried Frodo, running out of the room to the door. 'Come in! Come in! I thought it was Lobelia.'

'Then I forgive you. But I saw her some time ago, driving a pony-trap towards Bywater with a face that would have curdled new milk.'

'She had already nearly curdled me. Honestly, I nearly tried on Bilbo's ring. I longed to disappear.'

'Don't do that!' said Gandalf, sitting down. 'Do be careful of that ring, Frodo! In fact, it is partly about that that I have come to say a last word.'

'Well, what about it?'

'What do you know already?'

'Only what Bilbo told me. I have heard his story: how he found it, and how he used it: on his journey, I mean.'

'Which story, I wonder,' said Gandalf.

'Oh, not what he told the dwarves and put in his book,' said Frodo. 'He told me the true story soon after I came to live here. He said you had pestered him till he told you, so I had better know too. "No secrets between us, Frodo," he said; "but they are not to go any further. It's mine anyway."'

'That's interesting,' said Gandalf. 'Well, what did you think of it all?'

'If you mean, inventing all that about a "present", well, I thought the true story much more likely, and I couldn't see the point of altering it at all. It was very unlike Bilbo to do so, anyway; and I thought it rather odd.'

'So did I. But odd things may happen to people that have such treasures . if they use them. Let it be a warning to you to be very careful with it. It may have other powers than just making you vanish when you wish to.'

'I don't understand,' said Frodo.

'Neither do I,' answered the wizard. 'I have merely begun to wonder about the ring, especially since last night. No need to worry. But if you take my advice you will use it very seldom, or not at all. At least I beg you not to use it in any way that will cause talk or rouse suspicion. I say again: keep it safe, and keep it secret!'

'You are very mysterious! What are you afraid of?'

'I am not certain, so I will say no more. I may be able to tell you something when I come back. I am going off at once: so this is good-bye for the present.' He got up.

'At once!' cried Frodo. 'Why, I thought you were staying on for at least a week. I was looking forward to your help.'

'I did mean to . but I have had to change my mind. I may be away for a good while; but I'll come and see you again, as soon as I can. Expect me when you see me! I shall slip in quietly. I shan't often be visiting the Shire openly again. I find that I have become rather unpopular. They say I am a nuisance and a disturber of the peace. Some people are actually accusing me of spiriting Bilbo away, or worse. If you want to know, there is supposed to be a plot between you and me to get hold of his wealth.'

'Some people!' exclaimed Frodo. 'You mean Otho and Lobelia. How abominable! I would give them Bag End and everything else, if I could get Bilbo back and go off tramping in the country with him. I love the Shire. But I begin to wish, somehow, that I had gone too. I wonder if I shall ever see him again.'

'So do I,' said Gandalf. 'And I wonder many other things. Good-bye now! Take care of yourself! Look out for me, especially at unlikely times! Good- bye!'

Frodo saw him to the door. He gave a final wave of his hand, and walked off at a surprising pace; but Frodo thought the old wizard looked unusually bent, almost as if he was carrying a great weight. The evening was closing in, and his cloaked figure quickly vanished into the twilight. Frodo did not see him again for a long time.
The talk did not die down in nine or even ninety-nine days. The second disappearance of Mr. Bilbo Baggins was discussed in Hobbiton, and indeed all over the Shire, for a year and a day, and was remembered much longer than that. It became a fireside-story for young hobbits; and eventually Mad Baggins, who used to vanish with a bang and a flash and reappear with bags of jewels and gold, became a favourite character of legend and lived on long after all the true events were forgotten.

But in the meantime, the general opinion in the neighbourhood was that Bilbo, who had always been rather cracked, had at last gone quite mad, and had run off into the Blue. There he had undoubtedly fallen into a pool or a river and come to a tragic, but hardly an untimely, end. The blame was mostly laid on Gandalf.

'If only that dratted wizard will leave young Frodo alone, perhaps he'll settle down and grow some hobbit-sense,' they said. And to all appearance the wizard did leave Frodo alone, and he did settle down, but the growth of hobbit-sense was not very noticeable. Indeed, he at once began to carry on Bilbo's reputation for oddity. He refused to go into mourning; and the next year he gave a party in honour of Bilbo's hundred-and-twelfth birthday, which he called Hundred-weight Feast. But that was short of the mark, for twenty guests were invited and there were several meals at which it snowed food and rained drink, as hobbits say.

Some people were rather shocked; but Frodo kept up the custom of giving Bilbo's Birthday Party year after year until they got used to it. He said that he did not think Bilbo was dead. When they asked: 'Where is he then?' he shrugged his shoulders.

He lived alone, as Bilbo had done; but he had a good many friends, especially among the younger hobbits (mostly descendants of the Old Took) who had as children been fond of Bilbo and often in and out of Bag End. Folco Boffin and Fredegar Bolger were two of these; but his closest friends were Peregrin Took (usually called Pippin), and Merry Brandybuck (his real name was Meriadoc, but that was seldom remembered). Frodo went tramping all over the Shire with them; but more often he wandered by himself, and to the amazement of sensible folk he was sometimes seen far from home walking in the hills and woods under the starlight. Merry and Pippin suspected that he visited the Elves at times, as Bilbo had done.

As time went on, people began to notice that Frodo also showed signs of good 'preservation': outwardly he retained the appearance of a robust and energetic hobbit just out of his tweens. 'Some folk have all the luck,' they said; but it was not until Frodo approached the usually more sober age of fifty that they began to think it queer.

Frodo himself, after the first shock, found that being his own master and the Mr. Baggins of Bag End was rather pleasant. For some years he was quite happy and did not worry much about the future. But half unknown to himself the regret that he had not gone with Bilbo was steadily growing. He found himself wondering at times, especially in the autumn, about the wild lands, and strange visions of mountains that he had never seen came into his dreams. He began to say to himself: 'Perhaps I shall cross the River myself one day.' To which the other half of his mind always replied: 'Not yet.'

So it went on, until his forties were running out, and his fiftieth birthday was drawing near: fifty was a number that he felt was somehow significant (or ominous); it was at any rate at that age that adventure had suddenly befallen Bilbo. Frodo began to feel restless, and the old paths seemed too well-trodden. He looked at maps, and wondered what lay beyond their edges: maps made in the Shire showed mostly white spaces beyond its borders. He took to wandering further afield and more often by himself; and Merry and his other friends watched him anxiously. Often he was seen walking and talking with the strange wayfarers that began at this time to appear in the Shire.

There were rumours of strange things happening in the world outside; and as Gandalf had not at that time appeared or sent any message for several years, Frodo gathered all the news he could. Elves, who seldom walked in the Shire, could now be seen passing westward through the woods in the evening, passing and not returning; but they were leaving Middle-earth and were no longer concerned with its troubles. There were, however, dwarves on the road in unusual numbers. The ancient East-West Road ran through the Shire to its end at the Grey Havens, and dwarves had always used it on their way to their mines in the Blue Mountains. They were the hobbits' chief source of news from distant parts . if they wanted any: as a rule dwarves said little and hobbits asked no more. But now Frodo often met strange dwarves of far countries, seeking refuge in the West. They were troubled, and some spoke in whispers of the Enemy and of the Land of Mordor.

That name the hobbits only knew in legends of the dark past, like a shadow in the background of their memories; but it was ominous and disquieting. It seemed that the evil power in Mirkwood had been driven out by the White Council only to reappear in greater strength in the old strongholds of Mordor. The Dark Tower had been rebuilt, it was said. From there the power was spreading far and wide, and away far east and south there were wars and growing fear. Orcs were multiplying again in the mountains. Trolls were abroad, no longer dull-witted, but cunning and armed with dreadful weapons. And there were murmured hints of creatures more terrible than all these, but they had no name.

Little of all this, of course, reached the ears of ordinary hobbits. But even the deafest and most stay-at-home began to hear queer tales; and those whose business took them to the borders saw strange things. The conversation in The Green Dragon at Bywater, one evening in the spring of Frodo's fiftieth year, showed that even in the comfortable heart of the Shire rumours had been heard, though most hobbits still laughed at them.

Sam Gamgee was sitting in one corner near the fire, and opposite him was Ted Sandyman, the miller's son; and there were various other rustic hobbits listening to their talk.

'Queer things you do hear these days, to be sure,' said Sam.

'Ah,' said Ted, 'you do, if you listen. But I can hear fireside-tales and children's stories at home, if I want to.'

'No doubt you can,' retorted Sam, 'and I daresay there's more truth in some of them than you reckon. Who invented the stories anyway? Take dragons now.'

'No thank 'ee,' said Ted, 'I won't. I heard tell of them when I was a youngster, but there's no call to believe in them now. There's only one Dragon in Bywater, and that's Green,' he said, getting a general laugh.

'All right,' said Sam, laughing with the rest. 'But what about these Tree-men, these giants, as you might call them? They do say that one bigger than a tree was seen up away beyond the North Moors not long back.'

'Who's they?'

'My cousin Hal for one. He works for Mr. Boffin at Overhill and goes up to the Northfarthing for the hunting. He saw one.'

'Says he did, perhaps. Your Hal's always saying he's seen things; and maybe he sees things that ain't there.'

'But this one was as big as an elm tree, and walking . walking seven yards to a stride, if it was an inch.'

'Then I bet it wasn't an inch. What he saw was an elm tree, as like as not.'

'But this one was walking, I tell you; and there ain't no elm tree on the North Moors.'

'Then Hal can't have seen one,' said Ted. There was some laughing and clapping: the audience seemed to think that Ted had scored a point.

'All the same,' said Sam, 'you can't deny that others besides our Halfast have seen queer folk crossing the Shire . crossing it, mind you: there are more that are turned back at the borders. The Bounders have never been so busy before.

'And I've heard tell that Elves are moving west. They do say they are going to the harbours, out away beyond the White Towers.' Sam waved his arm vaguely: neither he nor any of them knew how far it was to the Sea, past the old towers beyond the western borders of the Shire. But it was an old tradition that away over there stood the Grey Havens, from which at times elven-ships set sail, never to return.

'They are sailing, sailing, sailing over the Sea, they are going into the West and leaving us,' said Sam, half chanting the words, shaking his head sadly and solemnly. But Ted laughed.

'Well, that isn't anything new, if you believe the old tales. And I don't see what it matters to me or you. Let them sail! But I warrant you haven't seen them doing it; nor any one else in the Shire.'

'Well I don't know,' said Sam thoughtfully. He believed he had once seen an Elf in the woods, and still hoped to see more one day. Of all the legends that he had heard in his early years such fragments of tales and half- remembered stories about the Elves as the hobbits knew, had always moved him most deeply. 'There are some, even in these parts, as know the Fair Folk and get news of them,' he said. 'There's Mr. Baggins now, that I work for. He told me that they were sailing and he knows a bit about Elves. And old Mr. Bilbo knew more: many's the talk I had with him when I was a little lad.'

'Oh, they're both cracked,' said Ted. 'Leastways old Bilbo was cracked, and Frodo's cracking. If that's where you get your news from, you'll never want for moonshine. Well, friends, I'm off home. Your good health!' He drained his mug and went out noisily.

Sam sat silent and said no more. He had a good deal to think about. For one thing, there was a lot to do up in the Bag End garden, and he would have a busy day tomorrow, if the weather cleared. The grass was growing fast. But Sam had more on his mind than gardening. After a while he sighed, and got up and went out.

It was early April and the sky was now clearing after heavy rain. The sun was down, and a cool pale evening was quietly fading into night. He walked home under the early stars through Hobbiton and up the Hill, whistling softly and thoughtfully.

It was just at this time that Gandalf reappeared after his long absence. For three years after the Party he had been away. Then he paid Frodo a brief visit, and after taking a good look at him he went off again. During the next year or two he had turned up fairly often, coming unexpectedly after dusk, and going off without warning before sunrise. He would not discuss his own business and journeys, and seemed chiefly interested in small news about Frodo's health and doings.

Then suddenly his visits had ceased. It was over nine years since Frodo had seen or heard of him, and he had begun to think that the wizard would never return and had given up all interest in hobbits. But that evening, as Sam was walking home and twilight was fading, there came the once familiar tap on the study window.

Frodo welcomed his old friend with surprise and great delight. They looked hard at one another.

'Ah well eh?' said Gandalf. 'You look the same as ever, Frodo!'

'So do you,' Frodo replied; but secretly he thought that Gandalf looked older and more careworn. He pressed him for news of himself and of the wide world, and soon they were deep in talk, and they stayed up far into the night.

Next morning after a late breakfast, the wizard was sitting with Frodo by the open window of the study. A bright fire was on the hearth, but the sun was warm, and the wind was in the South. Everything looked fresh, and the new green of Spring was shimmering in the fields and on the tips of the trees' fingers.

Gandalf was thinking of a spring, nearly eighty years before, when Bilbo had run out of Bag End without a handkerchief. His hair was perhaps whiter than it had been then, and his beard and eyebrows were perhaps longer, and his face more lined with care and wisdom; but his eyes were as bright as ever, and he smoked and blew smoke-rings with the same vigour and delight.

He was smoking now in silence, for Frodo was sitting still, deep in thought. Even in the light of morning he felt the dark shadow of the tidings that Gandalf had brought. At last he broke the silence.

'Last night you began to tell me strange things about my ring, Gandalf,' he said. 'And then you stopped, because you said that such matters were best left until daylight. Don't you think you had better finish now? You say the ring is dangerous, far more dangerous than I guess. In what way?'

'In many ways,' answered the wizard. It is far more powerful than I ever dared to think at first, so powerful that in the end it would utterly overcome anyone of mortal race who possessed it. It would possess him.

'In Eregion long ago many Elven-rings were made, magic rings as you call them, and they were, of course, of various kinds: some more potent and some less. The lesser rings were only essays in the craft before it was full-grown, and to the Elven-smiths they were but trifles . yet still to my mind dangerous for mortals. But the Great Rings, the Rings of Power, they were perilous.

'A mortal, Frodo, who keeps one of the Great Rings, does not die, but he does not grow or obtain more life, he merely continues, until at last every minute is a weariness. And if he often uses the Ring to make himself invisible, he fades: he becomes in the end invisible permanently, and walks in the twilight under the eye of the dark power that rules the Rings. Yes, sooner or later . later, if he is strong or well-meaning to begin with, but neither strength nor good purpose will last . sooner or later the dark power will devour him.'

'How terrifying!' said Frodo. There was another long silence. The sound of Sam Gamgee cutting the lawn came in from the garden.

'How long have you known this?' asked Frodo at length. 'And how much did Bilbo know?'

'Bilbo knew no more than he told you, I am sure,' said Gandalf. 'He would certainly never have passed on to you anything that he thought would be a danger, even though I promised to look after you. He thought the ring was very beautiful, and very useful at need; and if anything was wrong or queer, it was himself. He said that it was "growing on his mind", and he was always worrying about it; but he did not suspect that the ring itself was to blame. Though he had found out that the thing needed looking after; it did not seem always of the same size or weight; it shrank or expanded in an odd way, and might suddenly slip off a finger where it had been tight.'

'Yes, he warned me of that in his last letter,' said Frodo, 'so I have always kept it on its chain.'

'Very wise,' said Gandalf. 'But as for his long life, Bilbo never connected it with the ring at all. He took all the credit for that to himself, and he was very proud of it. Though he was getting restless and uneasy. Thin and stretched he said. A sign that the ring was getting control.'

'How long have you known all this?' asked Frodo again.

'Known?' said Gandalf. 'I have known much that only the Wise know, Frodo. But if you mean "known about this ring", well, I still do not know, one might say. There is a last test to make. But I no longer doubt my guess.

'When did I first begin to guess?' he mused, searching back in memory. 'Let me see . it was in the year that the White Council drove the dark power from Mirkwood, just before the Battle of Five Armies, that Bilbo found his ring. A shadow fell on my heart then, though I did not know yet what I feared. I wondered often how Gollum came by a Great Ring, as plainly it was . that at least was clear from the first. Then I heard Bilbo's strange story of how he had "won" it, and I could not believe it. When I at last got the truth out of him, I saw at once that he had been trying to put his claim to the ring beyond doubt. Much like Gollum with his "birthday present". The lies were too much alike for my comfort. Clearly the ring had an unwholesome power that set to work on its keeper at once. That was the first real warning I had that all was not well. I told Bilbo often that such rings were better left unused; but he resented it, and soon got angry. There was little else that I could do. I could not take it from him without doing greater harm; and I had no right to do so anyway. I could only watch and wait. I might perhaps have consulted Saruman the White, but something always held me back.'

'Who is he?' asked Frodo. I have never heard of him before.'

'Maybe not,' answered Gandalf. 'Hobbits are, or were, no concern of his. Yet he is great among the Wise. He is the chief of my order and the head of the Council. His knowledge is deep, but his pride has grown with it, and he takes ill any meddling. The lore of the Elven-rings, great and small, is his province. He has long studied it, seeking the lost secrets of their making; but when the Rings were debated in the Council, all that he would reveal to us of his ring-lore told against my fears. So my doubt slept . but uneasily. Still I watched and I waited.

'And all seemed well with Bilbo. And the years passed. Yes, they passed, and they seemed not to touch him. He showed no signs of age. The shadow fell on me again. But I said to myself: "After all he comes of a long-lived family on his mother's side. There is time yet. Wait!"

'And I waited. Until that night when he left this house. He said and did things then that filled me with a fear that no words of Saruman could allay. I knew at last that something dark and deadly was at work. And I have spent most of the years since then in finding out the truth of it.'

'There wasn't any permanent harm done, was there?' asked Frodo anxiously. 'He would get all right in time, wouldn't he? Be able to rest in peace, I mean?'

'He felt better at once,' said Gandalf. 'But there is only one Power in this world that knows all about the Rings and their effects; and as far as I know there is no Power in the world that knows all about hobbits. Among the Wise I am the only one that goes in for hobbit-lore: an obscure branch of knowledge, but full of surprises. Soft as butter they can be, and yet sometimes as tough as old tree-roots. I think it likely that some would resist the Rings far longer than most of the Wise would believe. I don't think you need worry about Bilbo.

'Of course, he possessed the ring for many years, and used it, so it might take a long while for the influence to wear off . before it was safe for him to see it again, for instance. Otherwise, he might live on for years, quite happily: just stop as he was when he parted with it. For he gave it up in the end of his own accord: an important point. No, I was not troubled about dear Bilbo any more, once he had let the thing go. It is for you that I feel responsible.

'Ever since Bilbo left I have been deeply concerned about you, and about all these charming, absurd, helpless hobbits. It would be a grievous blow to the world, if the Dark Power overcame the Shire; if all your kind, jolly, stupid Bolgers, Hornblowers, Boffins, Bracegirdles, and the rest, not to mention the ridiculous Bagginses, became enslaved.'

Frodo shuddered. 'But why should we be?' he asked. 'And why should he want such slaves?'

'To tell you the truth,' replied Gandalf, 'I believe that hitherto . hitherto, mark you . he has entirely overlooked the existence of hobbits. You should be thankful. But your safety has passed. He does not need you . he has many more useful servants . but he won't forget you again. And hobbits as miserable slaves would please him far more than hobbits happy and free. There is such a thing as malice and revenge.'

'Revenge?' said Frodo. 'Revenge for what? I still don't understand what all this has to do with Bilbo and myself, and our ring.'

'It has everything to do with it,' said Gandalf. 'You do not know the real peril yet; but you shall. I was not sure of it myself when I was last here; but the time has come to speak. Give me the ring for a moment.'

Frodo took it from his breeches-pocket, where it was clasped to a chain that hung from his belt. He unfastened it and handed it slowly to the wizard. It felt suddenly very heavy, as if either it or Frodo himself was in some way reluctant for Gandalf to touch it.

Gandalf held it up. It looked to be made of pure and solid gold. 'Can you see any markings on it?' he asked.

'No,' said Frodo. 'There are none. It is quite plain, and it never shows a scratch or sign of wear.'

'Well then, look!' To Frodo's astonishment and distress the wizard threw it suddenly into the middle of a glowing corner of the fire. Frodo gave a cry and groped for the tongs; but Gandalf held him back.

'Wait!' he said in a commanding voice, giving Frodo a quick look from under his bristling brows.

No apparent change came over the ring. After a while Gandalf got up, closed the shutters outside the window, and drew the curtains. The room became dark and silent, though the clack of Sam's shears, now nearer to the windows, could still be heard faintly from the garden. For a moment the wizard stood looking at the fire; then he stooped and removed the ring to the hearth with the tongs, and at once picked it up. Frodo gasped.

It is quite cool,' said Gandalf. 'Take it!' Frodo received it on his shrinking palm: it seemed to have become thicker and heavier than ever.

'Hold it up!' said Gandalf. 'And look closely!'

As Frodo did so, he now saw fine lines, finer than the finest pen- strokes, running along the ring, outside and inside: lines of fire that seemed to form the letters of a flowing script. They shone piercingly bright, and yet remote, as if out of a great depth.

'I cannot read the fiery letters,' said Frodo in a quavering voice.

'No,' said Gandalf, 'but I can. The letters are Elvish, of an ancient mode, but the language is that of Mordor, which I will not utter here. But this in the Common Tongue is what is said, close enough:

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.
It is only two lines of a verse long known in Elven-lore:
Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all. One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.'

He paused, and then said slowly in a deep voice: 'This is the Master- ring, the One Ring to rule them all. This is the One Ring that he lost many ages ago, to the great weakening of his power. He greatly desires it . but he must not get it.'

Frodo sat silent and motionless. Fear seemed to stretch out a vast hand, like a dark cloud rising in the East and looming up to engulf him. 'This ring!' he stammered. 'How, how on earth did it come to me?'

'Ah!' said Gandalf. 'That is a very long story. The beginnings lie back in the Black Years, which only the lore-masters now remember. If I were to tell you all that tale, we should still be sitting here when Spring had passed into Winter.

'But last night I told you of Sauron the Great, the Dark Lord. The rumours that you have heard are true: he has indeed arisen again and left his hold in Mirkwood and returned to his ancient fastness in the Dark Tower of Mordor. That name even you hobbits have heard of, like a shadow on the borders of old stories. Always after a defeat and a respite, the Shadow takes another shape and grows again.'

'I wish it need not have happened in my time,' said Frodo.

'So do I,' said Gandalf, 'and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given, us. And already, Frodo, our time is beginning to look black. The Enemy is fast becoming very strong. His plans are far from ripe, I think, but they are ripening. We shall be hard put to it. We should be very hard put to it, even if it were not for this dreadful chance.

'The Enemy still lacks one thing to give him strength and knowledge to beat down all resistance, break the last defences, and cover all the lands in a second darkness. He lacks the One Ring.

'The Three, fairest of all, the Elf-lords hid from him, and his hand never touched them or sullied them. Seven the Dwarf-kings possessed, but three he has recovered, and the others the dragons have consumed. Nine he gave to Mortal Men, proud and great, and so ensnared them. Long ago they fell under the dominion of the One, and they became Ringwraiths, shadows under his great Shadow, his most terrible servants. Long ago. It is many a year since the Nine walked abroad. Yet who knows? As the Shadow grows once more, they too may walk again. But come! We will not speak of such things even in the morning of the Shire.

'So it is now: the Nine he has gathered to himself; the Seven also, or else they are destroyed. The Three are hidden still. But that no longer troubles him. He only needs the One; for he made that Ring himself, it is his, and he let a great part of his own former power pass into it, so that he could rule all the others. If he recovers it, then he will command them all again, wherever they be, even the Three, and all that has been wrought with them will be laid bare, and he will be stronger than ever.

'And this is the dreadful chance, Frodo. He believed that the One had perished; that the Elves had destroyed it, as should have been done. But he knows now that it has not perished, that it has been found. So he is seeking it, seeking it, and all his thought is bent on it. It is his great hope and our great fear.'

'Why, why wasn't it destroyed?' cried Frodo. 'And how did the Enemy ever come to lose it, if he was so strong, and it was so precious to him?' He clutched the Ring in his hand, as if he saw already dark fingers stretching out to seize it.

'It was taken from him,' said Gandalf. 'The strength of the Elves to resist him was greater long ago; and not all Men were estranged from them. The Men of Westernesse came to their aid. That is a chapter of ancient history which it might be good to recall; for there was sorrow then too, and gathering dark, but great valour, and great deeds that were not wholly vain. One day, perhaps, I will tell you all the tale, or you shall hear it told in full by one who knows it best.

'But for the moment, since most of all you need to know how this thing came to you, and that will be tale enough, this is all that I will say. It was Gil-galad, Elven-king and Elendil of Westernesse who overthrew Sauron, though they themselves perished in the deed; and Isildur Elendil's son cut the Ring from Sauron's hand and took it for his own. Then Sauron was vanquished and his spirit fled and was hidden for long years, until his shadow took shape again in Mirkwood.

'But the Ring was lost. It fell into the Great River, Anduin, and vanished. For Isildur was marching north along the east banks of the River, and near the Gladden Fields he was waylaid by the Orcs of the Mountains, and almost all his folk were slain. He leaped into the waters, but the Ring slipped from his finger as he swam, and then the Orcs saw him and killed him with arrows.'

Gandalf paused. 'And there in the dark pools amid the Gladden Fields,' he said, 'the Ring passed out of knowledge and legend; and even so much of its history is known now only to a few, and the Council of the Wise could discover no more. But at last I can carry on the story, I think.

'Long after, but still very long ago, there lived by the banks of the Great River on the edge of Wilderland a clever-handed and quiet-footed little people. I guess they were of hobbit-kind; akin to the fathers of the fathers of the Stoors, for they loved the River, and often swam in it, or made little boats of reeds. There was among them a family of high repute, for it was large and wealthier than most, and it was ruled by a grandmother of the folk, stern and wise in old lore, such as they had. The most inquisitive and curious- minded of that family was called Sméagol. He was interested in roots and beginnings; he dived into deep pools; he burrowed under trees and growing plants; he tunnelled into green mounds; and he ceased to look up at the hill- tops, or the leaves on trees, or the flowers opening in the air: his head and his eyes were downward.

'He had a friend called Déagol, of similar sort, sharper-eyed but not so quick and strong. On a time they took a boat and went down to the Gladden Fields, where there were great beds of iris and flowering reeds. There Sméagol got out and went nosing about the banks but Deal sat in the boat and fished. Suddenly a great fish took his hook, and before he knew where he was, he was dragged out and down into the water, to the bottom. Then he let go of his line, for he thought he saw something shining in the river-bed; and holding his breath he grabbed at it.

'Then up he came spluttering, with weeds in his hair and a handful of mud; and he swam to the bank. And behold! when he washed the mud away, there in his hand lay a beautiful golden ring; and it shone and glittered in the sun, so that his heart was glad. But Sméagol had been watching him from behind a tree, and as Deal gloated over the ring, Sméagol came softly up behind.

'"Give us that, Deal, my love," said Sméagol, over his friend's shoulder.

'"Why?" said Deal.

' "Because it's my birthday, my love, and I wants it," said Sméagol.

'"I don't care," said Deal. "I have given you a present already, more than I could afford. I found this, and I'm going to keep it."

' "Oh, are you indeed, my love," said Sméagol; and he caught Deal by the throat and strangled him, because the gold looked so bright and beautiful. Then he put the ring on his finger.

'No one ever found out what had become of Deal; he was murdered far from home, and his body was cunningly hidden. But Sméagol returned alone; and he found that none of his family could see him, when he was wearing the ring. He was very pleased with his discovery and he concealed it; and he used it to find out secrets, and he put his knowledge to crooked and malicious uses. He became sharp-eyed and keen-eared for all that was hurtful. The ring had given him power according to his stature. It is not to be wondered at that he became very unpopular and was shunned (when visible) by all his relations. They kicked him, and he bit their feet. He took to thieving, and going about muttering to himself, and gurgling in his throat. So they called him Gollum, and cursed him, and told him to go far away; and his grandmother, desiring peace, expelled him from the family and turned him out of her hole.

'He wandered in loneliness, weeping a little for the hardness of the world, and he journeyed up the River, till he came to a stream that flowed down from the mountains, and he went that way. He caught fish in deep pools with invisible fingers and ate them raw. One day it was very hot, and as he was bending over a pool, he felt a burning on the back of his head) and a dazzling light from the water pained his wet eyes. He wondered at it, for he had almost forgotten about the Sun. Then for the last time he looked up and shook his fist at her.

'But as he lowered his eyes, he saw far above the tops of the Misty Mountains, out of which the stream came. And he thought suddenly: "It would be cool and shady under those mountains. The Sun could not watch me there. The roots of those mountains must be roots indeed; there must be great secrets buried there which have not been discovered since the beginning."

'So he journeyed by night up into the highlands, and he found a little cave out of which the dark stream ran; and he wormed his way like a maggot into the heart of the hills, and vanished out of all knowledge. The Ring went into the shadows with him, and even the maker, when his power had begun to grow again, could learn nothing of it.'

'Gollum!' cried Frodo. 'Gollum? Do you mean that this is the very Gollum- creature that Bilbo met? How loathsome!'

'I think it is a sad story,' said the wizard, 'and it might have happened to others, even to some hobbits that I have known.'

'I can't believe that Gollum was connected with hobbits, however distantly,' said Frodo with some heat. 'What an abominable notion!'

'It is true all the same,' replied Gandalf. 'About their origins, at any rate, I know more than hobbits do themselves. And even Bilbo's story suggests the kinship. There was a great deal in the background of their minds and memories that was very similar. They understood one another remarkably well, very much better than a hobbit would understand, say, a Dwarf, or an Orc, or even an Elf. Think of the riddles they both knew, for one thing.'

'Yes,' said Frodo. 'Though other folks besides hobbits ask riddles, and of much the same sort. And hobbits don't cheat. Gollum meant to cheat all the time. He was just trying to put poor Bilbo off his guard. And I daresay it amused his wickedness to start a game which might end in providing him with an easy victim, but if he lost would not hurt him.'

'Only too true, I fear,' said Gandalf. 'But there was something else in it, I think, which you don't see yet. Even Gollum was not wholly ruined. He had proved tougher than even one of the Wise would have guessed -as a hobbit might. There was a little corner of his mind that was still his own, and light came through it, as through a chink in the dark: light out of the past. It was actually pleasant, I think, to hear a kindly voice again, bringing up memories of wind, and trees, and sun on the grass, and such forgotten things.

'But that, of course, would only make the evil part of him angrier in the end . unless it could be conquered. Unless it could be cured.' Gandalf sighed. 'Alas! there is little hope of that for him. Yet not no hope. No, not though he possessed the Ring so long, almost as far back as he can remember. For it was long since he had worn it much: in the black darkness it was seldom needed. Certainly he had never "faded". He is thin and tough still. But the thing was eating up his mind, of course, and the torment had become almost unbearable.

'All the "great secrets" under the mountains had turned out to be just empty night: there was nothing more to find out, nothing worth doing, only nasty furtive eating and resentful remembering. He was altogether wretched. He hated the dark, and he hated light more: he hated everything, and the Ring most of all.'

'What do you mean?' said Frodo. 'Surely the Ring was his precious and the only thing he cared for? But if he hated it, why didn't he get rid of it, or go away and leave it?'

'You ought to begin to understand, Frodo, after all you have heard,' said Gandalf. 'He hated it and loved it, as he hated and loved himself. He could not get rid of it. He had no will left in the matter.

'A Ring of Power looks after itself, Frodo. It may slip off treacherously, but its keeper never abandons it. At most he plays with the idea of handing it on to someone else's care . and that only at an early stage, when it first begins to grip. But as far as I know Bilbo alone in history has ever gone beyond playing, and really done it. He needed all my help, too. And even so he would never have just forsaken it, or cast it aside. It was not Gollum, Frodo, but the Ring itself that decided things. The Ring left him.'

'What, just in time to meet Bilbo?' said Frodo. 'Wouldn't an Orc have suited it better?'

'It is no laughing matter,' said Gandalf. 'Not for you. It was the strangest event in the whole history of the Ring so far: Bilbo's arrival just at that time, and putting his hand on it, blindly, in the dark.

'There was more than one power at work, Frodo. The Ring was trying to get back to its master. It had slipped from Isildur's hand and betrayed him; then when a chance came it caught poor Deal, and he was murdered; and after that Gollum, and it had devoured him. It could make no further use of him: he was too small and mean; and as long as it stayed with him he would never leave his deep pool again. So now, when its master was awake once more and sending out his dark thought from Mirkwood, it abandoned Gollum. Only to be picked up by the most unlikely person imaginable: Bilbo from the Shire!

'Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker. I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to have it. And that maybe an encouraging thought.'

It is not,' said Frodo. "Though I am not sure that I understand you. But how have you learned all this about the Ring, and about Gollum? Do you really know it all, or are you just guessing still?'

Gandalf looked at Frodo, and his eyes glinted. I knew much and I have learned much,' he answered. 'But I am not going to give an account of all my doings to you. The history of Elendil and Isildur and the One Ring is known to all the Wise. Your ring is shown to be that One Ring by the fire-writing alone, apart from any other evidence.' 'And when did you discover that?' asked Frodo, interrupting. 'Just now in this room, of course,' answered the wizard sharply. 'But I expected to find it. I have come back from dark journeys and long search to make that final test. It is the last proof, and all is now only too clear. Making out Gollum's part, and fitting it into the gap in the history, required some thought. I may have started with guesses about Gollum, but I am not guessing now. I know. I have seen him.'

'You have seen Gollum?' exclaimed Frodo in amazement.

'Yes. The obvious thing to do, of course, if one could. I tried long ago; but I have managed it at last.'

'Then what happened after Bilbo escaped from him? Do you know that?'

'Not so clearly. What I have told you is what Gollum was willing to tell . though not, of course, in the way I have reported it. Gollum is a liar, and you have to sift his words. For instance, he called the Ring his "birthday present", and he stuck to that. He said it came from his grandmother, who had lots of beautiful things of that kind. A ridiculous story. I have no doubt that Sméagol's grandmother was a matriarch, a great person in her way, but to talk of her possessing many Elven-rings was absurd, and as for giving them away, it was a lie. But a lie with a grain of truth.

'The murder of Deal haunted Gollum, and he had made up a defence, repeating it to his "precious" over and over again, as he gnawed bones in the dark, until he almost believed it. It was his birthday. Deal ought to have given the ring to him. It had previously turned up just so as to be a present. It was his birthday present, and so on, and on.

I endured him as long as I could, but the truth was desperately important, and in the end I had to be harsh. I put the fear of fire on him, and wrung the true story out of him, bit by bit, together with much snivelling and snarling. He thought he was misunderstood and ill-used. But when he had at last told me his history, as far as the end of the Riddle-game and Bilbo's escape, he would not say any more, except in dark hints. Some other fear was on him greater than mine. He muttered that he was going to gel his own back. People would see if he would stand being kicked, and driven into a hole and then robbed. Gollum had good friends now, good friends and very strong. They would help him. Baggins would pay for it. That was his chief thought. He hated Bilbo and cursed his name. What is more, he knew where he came from.'

'But how did he find that out?' asked Frodo.

'Well, as for the name, Bilbo very foolishly told Gollum himself; and after that it would not be difficult to discover his country, once Gollum came out. Oh yes, he came out. His longing for the Ring proved stronger than his fear of the Orcs, or even of the light. After a year or two he left the mountains. You see, though still bound by desire of it, the Ring was no longer devouring him; he began to revive a little. He felt old, terribly old, yet less timid, and he was mortally hungry.

'Light, light of Sun and Moon, he still feared and hated, and he always will, I think; but he was cunning. He found he could hide from daylight and moonshine, and make his way swiftly and softly by dead of night with his pale cold eyes, and catch small frightened or unwary things. He grew stronger and bolder with new food and new air. He found his way into Mirkwood, as one would expect.'

'Is that where you found him?' asked Frodo.

'I saw him there,' answered Gandalf, 'but before that he had wandered far, following Bilbo's trail. It was difficult to learn anything from him for certain, for his talk was constantly interrupted by curses and threats. "What had it got in its pocketses?" he said. "It wouldn't say, no precious. Little cheat. Not a fair question. It cheated first, it did. It broke the rules. We ought to have squeezed it, yes precious. And we will, precious!"

'That is a sample of his talk. I don't suppose you want any more. I had weary days of it. But from hints dropped among the snarls I even gathered that his padding feet had taken him at last to Esgaroth, and even to the streets of Dale, listening secretly and peering. Well, the news of the great events went far and wide in Wilderland, and many had heard Bilbo's name and knew where he came from. We had made no secret of our return journey to his home in the West. Gollum's sharp ears would soon learn what he wanted.'

'Then why didn't he track Bilbo further?' asked Frodo. 'Why didn't he come to the Shire?'

'Ah,' said Gandalf, 'now we come to it. I think Gollum tried to. He set out and came back westward, as far as the Great River. But then he turned aside. He was not daunted by the distance, I am sure. No, something else drew him away. So my friends think, those that hunted him for me.

'The Wood-elves tracked him first, an easy task for them, for his trail was still fresh then. Through Mirkwood and back again it led them, though they never caught him. The wood was full of the rumour of him, dreadful tales even among beasts and birds. The Woodmen said that there was some new terror abroad, a ghost that drank blood. It climbed trees to find nests; it crept into holes to find the young; it slipped through windows to find cradles.

'But at the western edge of Mirkwood the trail turned away. It wandered off southwards and passed out of the Wood-elves' ken, and was lost. And then I made a great mistake. Yes, Frodo, and not the first; though I fear it may prove the worst. I let the matter be. I let him go; for I had much else to think of at that time, and I still trusted the lore of Saruman.

'Well, that was years ago. I have paid for it since with many dark and dangerous days. The trail was long cold when I took it up again, after Bilbo left here. And my search would have been in vain, but for the help that I had from a friend: Aragorn, the greatest traveller and huntsman of this age of the world. Together we sought for Gollum down the whole length of Wilderland, without hope, and without success. But at last, when I had given up the chase and turned to other parts, Gollum was found. My friend returned out of the great perils bringing the miserable creature with him.

'What he had been doing he would not say. He only wept and called us cruel, with many a gollum in his throat; and when we pressed him he whined and cringed, and rubbed his long hands, licking his fingers as if they pained him, as if he remembered some old torture. But I am afraid there is no possible doubt: he had made his slow, sneaking way, step by step, mile by mile, south, down at last to the Land of Mordor.'

A heavy silence fell in the room. Frodo could hear his heart beating. Even outside everything seemed still. No sound of Sam's shears could now be heard.

'Yes, to Mordor,' said Gandalf. 'Alas! Mordor draws all wicked things, and the Dark Power was bending all its will to gather them there. The Ring of the Enemy would leave its mark, too, leave him open to the summons. And all folk were whispering then of the new Shadow in the South, and its hatred of the West. There were his fine new friends, who would help him in his revenge!

'Wretched fool! In that land he would learn much, too much for his comfort. And sooner or later as he lurked and pried on the borders he would be caught, and taken . for examination. That was the way of it, I fear. When he was found he had already been there long, and was on his way back. On some errand of mischief. But that does not matter much now. His worst mischief was done.

'Yes, alas! through him the Enemy has learned that the One has been found again. He knows where Isildur fell. He knows where Gollum found his ring. He knows that it is a Great Ring, for it gave long life. He knows that it is not one of the Three, for they have never been lost, and they endure no evil. He knows that it is not one of the Seven, or the Nine, for they are accounted for. He knows that it is the One. And he has at last heard, I think, of hobbits and the Shire.

'The Shire . he may be seeking for it now, if he has not already found out where it lies. Indeed, Frodo, I fear that he may even think that the long- unnoticed name of Baggins has become important.'

'But this is terrible!' cried Frodo. 'Far worse than the worst that I imagined from your hints and warnings. O Gandalf, best of friends, what am I to do? For now I am really afraid. What am I to do? What a pity that Bilbo did not stab that vile creature, when he had a chance!'

'Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need. And he has been well rewarded, Frodo. Be sure that he took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his ownership of the Ring so. With Pity.'

'I am sorry,' said Frodo. 'But I am frightened; and I do not feel any pity for Gollum.'

'You have not seen him,' Gandalf broke in.

'No, and I don't want to,' said Frodo. I can't understand you. Do you mean to say that you, and the Elves, have let him live on after all those horrible deeds? Now at any rate he is as bad as an Orc, and just an enemy. He deserves death.'

'Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends. I have not much hope that Gollum can be cured before he dies, but there is a chance of it. And he is bound up with the fate of the Ring. My heart tells me that he has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before the end; and when that comes, the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many . yours not least. In any case we did not kill him: he is very old and very wretched. The Wood-elves have him in prison, but they treat him with such kindness as they can find in their wise hearts.'

'All the same,' said Frodo, 'even if Bilbo could not kill Gollum, I wish he had not kept the Ring. I wish he had never found it, and that I had not got it! Why did you let me keep it? Why didn't you make me throw it away, or, or destroy it?'

'Let you? Make you?' said the wizard. 'Haven't you been listening to all that I have said? You are not thinking of what you are saying. But as for throwing it away, that was obviously wrong. These Rings have a way of being found. In evil hands it might have done great evil. Worst of all, it might have fallen into the hands of the Enemy. Indeed it certainly would; for this is the One, and he is exerting all his power to find it or draw it to himself.

'Of course, my dear Frodo, it was dangerous for you; and that has troubled me deeply. But there was so much at stake that I had to take some risk . though even when I was far away there has never been a day when the Shire has not been guarded by watchful eyes. As long as you never used it, I did not think that the Ring would have any lasting effect on you, not for evil, not at any rate for a very long time. And you must remember that nine years ago, when I last saw you, I still knew little for certain.'

'But why not destroy it, as you say should have been done long ago?' cried Frodo again. If you had warned me, or even sent me a message, I would have done away with it.'

'Would you? How would you do that? Have you ever tried?'

'No. But I suppose one could hammer it or melt it.'

'Try!' said Gandalf. Try now!'

Frodo drew the Ring out of his pocket again and looked at it. It now appeared plain and smooth, without mark or device that he could see. The gold looked very fair and pure, and Frodo thought how rich and beautiful was its colour, how perfect was its roundness. It was an admirable thing and altogether precious. When he took it out he had intended to fling it from him into the very hottest part of the fire. But he found now that he could not do so, not without a great struggle. He weighed the Ring in his hand, hesitating, and forcing himself to remember all that Gandalf had told him; and then with an effort of will he made a movement, as if to cast it away . but he found that he had put it back in his pocket.

Gandalf laughed grimly. 'You see? Already you too, Frodo, cannot easily let it go, nor will to damage it. And I could not "make" you . except by force, which would break your mind. But as for breaking the Ring, force is useless. Even if you took it and struck it with a heavy sledge-hammer, it would make no dint in it. It cannot be unmade by your hands, or by mine.

'Your small fire, of course, would not melt even ordinary gold. This Ring has already passed through it unscathed, and even unheated. But there is no smith's forge in this Shire that could change it at all. Not even the anvils and furnaces of the Dwarves could do that. It has been said that dragon-fire could melt and consume the Rings of Power, but there is not now any dragon left on earth in which the old fire is hot enough; nor was there ever any dragon, not even Ancalagon the Black, who could have harmed the One Ring, the Ruling Ring, for that was made by Sauron himself. There is only one way: to find the Cracks of Doom in the depths of Orodruin, the Fire-mountain, and cast the Ring in there, if you really wish to destroy it, to put it beyond the grasp of the Enemy for ever.'

'I do really wish to destroy it!' cried Frodo. 'Or, well, to have it destroyed. I am not made for perilous quests. I wish I had never seen the Ring! Why did it come to me? Why was I chosen?'

'Such questions cannot be answered,' said Gandalf. 'You may be sure that it was not for any merit that others do not possess: not for power or wisdom, at any rate. But you have been chosen, and you must therefore use such strength and heart and wits as you have.'

'But I have so little of any of these things! You are wise and powerful. Will you not take the Ring?'

'No!' cried Gandalf, springing to his feet. 'With that power I should have power too great and terrible. And over me the Ring would gain a power still greater and more deadly.' His eyes flashed and his face was lit as by a fire within. 'Do not tempt me! For I do not wish to become like the Dark Lord himself. Yet the way of the Ring to my heart is by pity, pity for weakness and the desire of strength to do good. Do not tempt me! I dare not take it, not even to keep it safe, unused. The wish to wield it would be too great, for my strength. I shall have such need of it. Great perils lie before me.'

He went to the window and drew aside the curtains and the shutters. Sunlight streamed back again into the room. Sam passed along the path outside whistling. 'And now,' said the wizard, turning back to Frodo, 'the decision lies with you. But I will always help you.' He laid his hand on Frodo's shoulder. 'I will help you bear this burden, as long as It is yours to bear. But we must do something, soon. The Enemy is moving.'

There was a long silence. Gandalf sat down again and puffed at his pipe, as if lost in thought. His eyes seemed closed, but under the lids he was watching Frodo intently. Frodo gazed fixedly at the red embers on the hearth, until they filled all his vision, and he seemed to be looking down into profound wells of fire. He was thinking of the fabled Cracks of Doom and the terror of the Fiery Mountain.

'Well!' said Gandalf at last. 'What are you thinking about? Have you decided what to do?'

'No!' answered Frodo, coming back to himself out of darkness, and finding to his surprise that it was not dark, and that out of the window he could see the sunlit garden. 'Or perhaps, yes. As far as I understand what you have said, I suppose I must keep the Ring and guard it, at least for the present, whatever it may do to me.'

'Whatever it may do, it will be slow, slow to evil, if you keep it with that purpose,' said Gandalf.

'I hope so,' said Frodo. 'But I hope that you may find some other better keeper soon. But in the meanwhile it seems that I am a danger, a danger to all that live near me. I cannot keep the Ring and stay here. I ought to leave Bag End, leave the Shire, leave everything and go away.' He sighed.

'I should like to save the Shire, if I could . though there have been times when I thought the inhabitants too stupid and dull for words, and have felt that an earthquake or an invasion of dragons might be good for them. But I don't feel like that now. I feel that as long as the Shire lies behind, safe and comfortable, I shall find wandering more bearable: I shall know that somewhere there is a firm foothold, even if my feet cannot stand there again.

'Of course, I have sometimes thought of going away, but I imagined that as a kind of holiday, a series of adventures like Bilbo's or better, ending in peace. But this would mean exile, a flight from danger into danger, drawing it after me. And I suppose I must go alone, if I am to do that and save the Shire. But I feel very small, and very uprooted, and well . desperate. The Enemy is so strong and terrible.'

He did not tell Gandalf, but as he was speaking a great desire to follow Bilbo flamed up in his heart . to follow Bilbo, and even perhaps to find him again. It was so strong that it overcame his fear: he could almost have run out there and then down the road without his hat, as Bilbo had done on a similar morning long ago.

'My dear Frodo!' exclaimed Gandalf. 'Hobbits really are amazing creatures, as I have said before. You can learn all that there is to know about their ways in a month, and yet after a hundred years they can still surprise you at a pinch. I hardly expected to get such an answer, not even from you. But Bilbo made no mistake in choosing his heir, though he little thought how important it would prove. I am afraid you are right. The Ring will not be able to stay hidden in the Shire much longer; and for your own sake, as well as for others, you will have to go, and leave the name of Baggins behind you. That name will not be safe to have, outside the Shire or in the Wild. I will give you a travelling name now. When you go, go as Mr. Underhill.

'But I don't think you need go alone. Not if you know of anyone you can trust, and who would be willing to go by your side . and that you would be willing to take into unknown perils. But if you look for a companion, be careful in choosing! And be careful of what you say, even to your closest friends! The enemy has many spies and many ways of hearing.'

Suddenly he stopped as if listening. Frodo became aware that all was very quiet, inside and outside. Gandalf crept to one side of the window. Then with a dart he sprang to the sill, and thrust a long arm out and downwards. There was a squawk, and up came Sam Gamgee's curly head hauled by one ear.

'Well, well, bless my beard!' said Gandalf. 'Sam Gamgee is it? Now what may you be doing?'

'Lor bless you, Mr. Gandalf, sir!' said Sam. 'Nothing! Leastways I was just trimming the grass-border under the window, if you follow me.' He picked up his shears and exhibited them as evidence.

'I don't,' said Gandalf grimly. It is some time since I last heard the sound of your shears. How long have you been eavesdropping?'

'Eavesdropping, sir? I don't follow you, begging your pardon. There ain't no eaves at Bag End, and that's a fact.'

'Don't be a fool! What have you heard, and why did you listen?' Gandalf's eyes flashed and his brows stuck out like bristles.

'Mr. Frodo, sir!' cried Sam quaking. 'Don't let him hurt me, sir! Don't let him turn me into anything unnatural! My old dad would take on so. I meant no harm, on my honour, sir!'

'He won't hurt you,' said Frodo, hardly able to keep from laughing, although he was himself startled and rather puzzled. 'He knows, as well as I do, that you mean no harm. But just you up and answer his questions straight away!'

'Well, sir,' said Sam dithering a little. 'I heard a deal that I didn't rightly understand, about an enemy, and rings, and Mr. Bilbo, sir, and dragons, and a fiery mountain, and . and Elves, sir. I listened because I couldn't help myself, if you know what I mean. Lor bless me, sir, but I do love tales of that sort. And I believe them too, whatever Ted may say. Elves, sir! I would dearly love to see them. Couldn't you take me to see Elves, sir, when you go?'

Suddenly Gandalf laughed. 'Come inside!' he shouted, and putting out both his arms he lifted the astonished Sam, shears, grass-clippings and all, right through the window and stood him on the floor. 'Take you to see Elves, eh?' he said, eyeing Sam closely, but with a smile flickering on his face. 'So you heard that Mr. Frodo is going away?'

'I did, sir. And that's why I choked: which you heard seemingly. I tried not to, sir, but it burst out of me: I was so upset.'

'It can't be helped, Sam,' said Frodo sadly. He had suddenly realized that flying from the Shire would mean more painful partings than merely saying farewell to the familiar comforts of Bag End. 'I shall have to go. But' . and here he looked hard at Sam . 'if you really care about me, you will keep that dead secret. See? If you don't, if you even breathe a word of what you've heard here, then I hope Gandalf will turn you into a spotted toad and fill the garden full of grass-snakes.'

Sam fell on his knees, trembling. 'Get up, Sam!' said Gandalf. I have thought of something better than that. Something to shut your mouth, and punish you properly for listening. You shall go away with Mr. Frodo!'

'Me, sir!' cried Sam, springing up like a dog invited for a walk. 'Me go and see Elves and all! Hooray!' he shouted, and then burst into tears.ou ought to go quietly, and you ought to go soon,' said Gandalf. Two or three weeks had passed, and still Frodo made no sign of getting ready to go.

'I know. But it is difficult to do both,' he objected. If I just vanish like Bilbo, the tale will be all over the Shire in no time.'

'Of course you mustn't vanish!' said Gandalf. 'That wouldn't do at all! I said soon, not instantly. If you can think of any way of slipping out of the Shire without its being generally known, it will be worth a little delay. But you must not delay too long.'

'What about the autumn, on or after Our Birthday?' asked Frodo. 'I think I could probably make some arrangements by then.'

To tell the truth, he was very reluctant to start, now that it had come to the point. Bag End seemed a more desirable residence than it had for years, and he wanted to savour as much as he could of his last summer in the Shire. When autumn came, he knew that part at least of his heart would think more kindly of journeying, as it always did at that season. He had indeed privately made up his mind to leave on his fiftieth birthday: Bilbo's one hundred and twenty-eighth. It seemed somehow the proper day on which to set out and follow him. Following Bilbo was uppermost in his mind, and the one thing that made the thought of leaving bearable. He thought as little as possible about the Ring, and where it might lead him in the end. But he did not tell all his thoughts to Gandalf. What the wizard guessed was always difficult to tell.

He looked at Frodo and smiled. 'Very well,' he said. 'I think that will do . but it must not be any later. I am getting very anxious. In the mean- while, do take care, and don't let out any hint of where you are going! And see that Sam Gamgee does not talk. If he does, I really shall turn him into a toad.'

'As for where I am going,' said Frodo, 'it would be difficult to give that away, for I have no clear idea myself, yet.'

'Don't be absurd!' said Gandalf. 'I am not warning you against leaving an address at the post-office! But you are leaving the Shire . and that should not be known, until you are far away. And you must go, or at least set out, either North, South, West or East . and the direction should certainly not be known.'

'I have been so taken up with the thoughts of leaving Bag End, and of saying farewell, that I have never even considered the direction,' said Frodo. 'For where am I to go? And by what shall I steer? What is to be my quest? Bilbo went to find a treasure, there and back again; but I go to lose one, and not return, as far as I can see.'

'But you cannot see very far,' said Gandalf. 'Neither can I. It may be your task to find the Cracks of Doom; but that quest may be for others: I do not know. At any rate you are not ready for that long road yet.'

'No indeed!' said Frodo. 'But in the meantime what course am I to lake?'

'Towards danger; but not too rashly, nor too straight,' answered the wizard. 'If you want my advice, make for Rivendell. That journey should not prove too perilous, though the Road is less easy than it was, and it will grow worse as the year fails.'

'Rivendell!' said Frodo. 'Very good: I will go east, and I will make for Rivendell. I will take Sam to visit the Elves; he will be delighted.' He spoke lightly; but his heart was moved suddenly with a desire to see the house of Elrond Halfelven, and breathe the air of that deep valley where many of the Fair Folk still dwelt in peace.

One summer's evening an astonishing piece of news reached the Ivy Bush and Green Dragon. Giants and other portents on the borders of the Shire were forgotten for more important matters: Mr. Frodo was selling Bag End, indeed he had already sold it . to the Sackville-Bagginses!

'For a nice bit, loo,' said some. 'At a bargain price,' said others, 'and that's more likely when Mistress Lobelia's the buyer.' (Otho had died some years before, at the ripe but disappointed age of 102.)

Just why Mr. Frodo was selling his beautiful hole was even more debatable than the price. A few held the theory . supported by the nods and hints of Mr. Baggins himself . that Frodo's money was running out: he was going to leave Hobbiton and live in a quiet way on the proceeds of the sale down in Buckland among his Brandybuck relations. 'As far from the Sackville-Bagginses as may be,' some added. But so firmly fixed had the notion of the immeasurable wealth of the Bagginses of Bag End become that most found this hard to believe, harder than any other reason or unreason that their fancy could suggest: to most it suggested a dark and yet unrevealed plot by Gandalf. Though he kept himself very quiet and did not go about by day, it was well known that he was 'hiding up in the Bag End'. But however a removal might fit in with the designs of his wizardry, there was no doubt about the fact: Frodo Baggins was going back to Buckland.

'Yes, I shall be moving this autumn,' he said. 'Merry Brandybuck is looking out for a nice little hole for me, or perhaps a small house.'

As a matter of fact with Merry's help he had already chosen and bought a little house at Crickhollow in the country beyond Bucklebury. To all but Sam he pretended he was going to settle down there permanently. The decision to set out eastwards had suggested the idea to him; for Buckland was on the eastern borders of the Shire, and as he had lived there in childhood his going back would at least seem credible.

Gandalf stayed in the Shire for over two months. Then one evening, at the end of June, soon after Frodo's plan had been finally arranged, he suddenly announced that he was going off again next morning. 'Only for a short while, I hope,' he said. 'But I am going down beyond the southern borders to get some news, if I can. I have been idle longer than I should.'

He spoke lightly, but it seemed to Frodo that he looked rather worried. 'Has anything happened?' he asked.

'Well no; but I have heard something that has made me anxious and needs looking into. If I think it necessary after all for you to get off at once, I shall come back immediately, or at least send word. In the meanwhile stick to your plan; but be more careful than ever, especially of the Ring. Let me impress on you once more: don't use it!'

He went off at dawn. 'I may be back any day,' he said. 'At the very latest I shall come back for the farewell party. I think after all you may need my company on the Road.'

At first Frodo was a good deal disturbed, and wondered often what Gandalf could have heard; but his uneasiness wore off, and in the fine weather he forgot his troubles for a while. The Shire had seldom seen so fair a summer, or so rich an autumn: the trees were laden with apples, honey was dripping in the combs, and the corn was tall and full.

Autumn was well under way before Frodo began to worry about Gandalf again. September was passing and there was still no news of him. The Birthday, and the removal, drew nearer, and still he did not come, or send word. Bag End began to be busy. Some of Frodo's friends came to stay and help him with the packing: there was Fredegar Bolger and Folco Boffin, and of course his special friends Pippin Took and Merry Brandybuck. Between them they turned the whole place upside-down.

On September 20th two covered carts went off laden to Buckland, conveying the furniture and goods that Frodo had not sold to his new home, by way of the Brandywine Bridge. The next day Frodo became really anxious, and kept a constant look-out for Gandalf. Thursday, his birthday morning, dawned as fair and clear as it had long ago for Bilbo's great party. Still Gandalf did not appear. In the evening Frodo gave his farewell feast: it was quite small, just a dinner for himself and his four helpers; but he was troubled and fell in no mood for it. The thought that he would so soon have to part with his young friends weighed on his heart. He wondered how he would break it to them.

The four younger hobbits were, however, in high spirits, and the party soon became very cheerful in spite of Gandalf's absence. The dining-room was bare except for a table and chairs, but the food was good, and there was good wine: Frodo's wine had not been included in the sale to the Sackville- Bagginses.

'Whatever happens to the rest of my stuff, when the S.-B.s get their claws on it, at any rate I have found a good home for this!' said Frodo, as he drained his glass. It was the last drop of Old Winyards.

When they had sung many songs, and talked of many things they had done together, they toasted Bilbo's birthday, and they drank his health and Frodo's together according to Frodo's custom. Then they went out for a sniff of air, and glimpse of the stars, and then they went to bed. Frodo's party was over, and Gandalf had not come.

The next morning they were busy packing another cart with the remainder of the luggage. Merry took charge of this, and drove off with Fatty (that is Fredegar Bolger). 'Someone must get there and warm the house before you arrive,' said Merry. 'Well, see you later, the day after tomorrow, if you don't go to sleep on the way!'

Folco went home after lunch, but Pippin remained behind. Frodo was restless and anxious, listening in vain for a sound of Gandalf. He decided to wait until nightfall. After that, if Gandalf wanted him urgently, he would go to Crickhollow, and might even get there first. For Frodo was going on foot. His plan, for pleasure and a last look at the Shire as much as any other reason, was to walk from Hobbiton to Bucklebury Ferry, taking it fairly easy.

'I shall get myself a bit into training, too,' he said, looking at himself in a dusty mirror in the half-empty hall. He had not done any strenuous walking for a long time, and the reflection looked rather flabby, he thought.

After lunch, the Sackville-Bagginses, Lobelia and her sandy-haired son, Lotho, turned up, much to Frodo's annoyance. 'Ours at last!' said Lobelia, as she stepped inside. It was not polite; nor strictly true, for the sale of Bag End did not take effect until midnight. But Lobelia can perhaps be forgiven: she had been obliged to wait about seventy-seven years longer for Bag End than she once hoped, and she was now a hundred years old. Anyway, she had come to see that nothing she had paid for had been carried off; and she wanted the keys. It took a long while to satisfy her, as she had brought a complete inventory with her and went right through it. In the end she departed with Lotho and the spare key and the promise that the other key would be left at the Gamgees' in Bagshot Row. She snorted, and showed plainly that she thought the Gamgees capable of plundering the hole during the night. Frodo did not offer her any tea.

He took his own tea with Pippin and Sam Gamgee in the kitchen. It had been officially announced that Sam was coming to Buckland 'to do for Mr. Frodo and look after his bit of garden'; an arrangement that was approved by the Gaffer, though it did not console him for the prospect of having Lobelia as a neighbour.

'Our last meal at Bag End!' said Frodo, pushing back his chair. They left the washing up for Lobelia. Pippin and Sam strapped up their three packs and piled them in the porch. Pippin went out for a last stroll in the garden. Sam disappeared.

The sun went down. Bag End seemed sad and gloomy and dishevelled. Frodo wandered round the familiar rooms, and saw the light of the sunset fade on the walls, and shadows creep out of the corners. It grew slowly dark indoors. He went out and walked down to the gate at the bottom of the path, and then on a short way down the Hill Road. He half expected to see Gandalf come striding up through the dusk.

The sky was clear and the stars were growing bright. 'It's going to be a fine night,' he said aloud. 'That's good for a beginning. I feel like walking. I can't bear any more hanging about. I am going to start, and Gandalf must follow me.' He turned to go back, and then slopped, for he heard voices, just round the corner by the end of Bagshot Row. One voice was certainly the old Gaffer's; the other was strange, and somehow unpleasant. He could not make out what it said, but he heard the Gaffer's answers, which were rather shrill. The old man seemed put out.

'No, Mr. Baggins has gone away. Went this morning, and my Sam went with him: anyway all his stuff went. Yes, sold out and gone, I tell'ee. Why? Why's none of my business, or yours. Where to? That ain't no secret. He's moved to Bucklebury or some such place, away down yonder. Yes it is . a tidy way. I've never been so far myself; they're queer folks in Buckland. No, I can't give no message. Good night to you!'

Footsteps went away down the Hill. Frodo wondered vaguely why the fact that they did not come on up the Hill seemed a great relief. 'I am sick of questions and curiosity about my doings, I suppose,' he thought. 'What an inquisitive lot they all are!' He had half a mind to go and ask the Gaffer who the inquirer was; but he thought better (or worse) of it, and turned and walked quickly back to Bag End.

Pippin was sitting on his pack in the porch. Sam was not there. Frodo stepped inside the dark door. 'Sam!' he called. 'Sam! Time!'

'Coming, sir!' came the answer from far within, followed soon by Sam himself, wiping his mouth. He had been saying farewell to the beer-barrel in the cellar.

'All aboard, Sam?' said Frodo.

'Yes, sir. I'll last for a bit now, sir.'

Frodo shut and locked the round door, and gave the key to Sam. 'Run down with this to your home, Sam!' he said. 'Then cut along the Row and meet us as quick as you can at the gate in the lane beyond the meadows. We are not going through the village tonight. Too many ears pricking and eyes prying.' Sam ran off at full speed.

'Well, now we're off at last!' said Frodo. They shouldered their packs and took up their sticks, and walked round the corner to the west side of Bag End. 'Good-bye!' said Frodo, looking at the dark blank windows. He waved his hand, and then turned and (following Bilbo, if he had known it) hurried after Peregrin down the garden-path. They jumped over the low place in the hedge at the bottom and took to the fields, passing into the darkness like a rustle in the grasses.

At the bottom of the Hill on its western side they came to the gate opening on to a narrow lane. There they halted and adjusted the straps of their packs. Presently Sam appeared, trotting quickly and breathing hard; his heavy pack was hoisted high on his shoulders, and he had put on his head a tall shapeless fell bag, which he called a hat. In the gloom he looked very much like a dwarf.

'I am sure you have given me all the heaviest stuff,' said Frodo. 'I pity snails, and all that carry their homes on their backs.'

'I could take a lot more yet, sir. My packet is quite light,' said Sam stoutly and untruthfully.

'No, you don't, Sam!' said Pippin. 'It is good for him. He's got nothing except what he ordered us to pack. He's been slack lately, and he'll feel the weight less when he's walked off some of his own.'

'Be kind to a poor old hobbit!' laughed Frodo. 'I shall be as thin as a willow-wand, I'm sure, before I get to Buckland. But I was talking nonsense. I suspect you have taken more than your share, Sam, and I shall look into it at our next packing.' He picked up his stick again. 'Well, we all like walking in the dark,' he said, 'so let's put some miles behind us before bed.'

For a short way they followed the lane westwards. Then leaving it they turned left and took quietly to the fields again. They went in single file along hedgerows and the borders of coppices, and night fell dark about them. In their dark cloaks they were as invisible as if they all had magic rings. Since they were all hobbits, and were trying to be silent, they made no noise that even hobbits would hear. Even the wild things in the fields and woods hardly noticed their passing.

After some time they crossed the Water, west of Hobbiton, by a narrow plank-bridge. The stream was there no more than a winding black ribbon, bordered with leaning alder-trees. A mile or two further south they hastily crossed the great road from the Brandywine Bridge; they were now in the Tookland and bending south-eastwards they made for the Green Hill Country. As they began to climb its first slopes they looked back and saw the lamps in Hobbiton far off twinkling in the gentle valley of the Water. Soon it disappeared in the folds of the darkened land, and was followed by Bywater beside its grey pool. When the light of the last farm was far behind, peeping among the trees, Frodo turned and waved a hand in farewell.

'I wonder if I shall ever look down into that valley again,' he said quietly.

When they had walked for about three hours they rested. The night was clear, cool, and starry, but smoke-like wisps of mist were creeping up the hill-sides from the streams and deep meadows. Thin-clad birches, swaying in a light wind above their heads, made a black net against the pale sky. They ate a very frugal supper (for hobbits), and then went on again. Soon they struck a narrow road, that went rolling up and down, fading grey into the darkness ahead: the road to Woodhall, and Stock, and the Bucklebury Ferry. It climbed away from the main road in the Water-valley, and wound over the skirts of the Green Hills towards Woody-End, a wild corner of the Eastfarthing.

After a while they plunged into a deeply cloven track between tall trees that rustled their dry leaves in the night. It was very dark. At first they talked, or hummed a tune softly together, being now far away from inquisitive ears. Then they marched on in silence, and Pippin began to lag behind. At last, as they began to climb a steep slope, he stopped and yawned.

'I am so sleepy,' he said, 'that soon I shall fall down on the road. Are you going to sleep on your legs? It is nearly midnight.'

'I thought you liked walking in the dark,' said Frodo. 'But there is no great hurry. Merry expects us some time the day after tomorrow; but that leaves us nearly two days more. We'll halt at the first likely spot.'

'The wind's in the West,' said Sam. 'If we get to the other side of this hill, we shall find a spot that is sheltered and snug enough, sir. There is a dry fir-wood just ahead, if I remember rightly.' Sam knew the land well within twenty miles of Hobbiton, but that was the limit of his geography.

Just over the top of the hill they came on the patch of fir-wood. Leaving the road they went into the deep resin-scented darkness of the trees, and gathered dead sticks and cones to make a fire. Soon they had a merry crackle of flame at the foot of a large fir-tree and they sat round it for a while, until they began to nod. Then, each in an angle of the great tree's roots, they curled up in their cloaks and blankets, and were soon fast asleep. They set no watch; even Frodo feared no danger yet, for they were still in the heart of the Shire. A few creatures came and looked at them when the fire had died away. A fox passing through the wood on business of his own stopped several minutes and sniffed.

'Hobbits!' he thought. 'Well, what next? I have heard of strange doings in this land, but I have seldom heard of a hobbit sleeping out of doors under a tree. Three of them! There's something mighty queer behind this.' He was quite right, but he never found out any more about it.

The morning came, pale and clammy. Frodo woke up first, and found that a tree-root had made a hole in his back, and that his neck was stiff.

'Walking for pleasure! Why didn't I drive?' he thought, as he usually did at the beginning of an expedition. 'And all my beautiful feather beds are sold to the Sackville-Bagginses! These tree-roots would do them good.' He stretched. 'Wake up, hobbits!' he cried. It's a beautiful morning.'

'What's beautiful about it?' said Pippin, peering over the edge of his blanket with one eye. 'Sam! Gel breakfast ready for half-past nine! Have you got the bath-water hot?'

Sam jumped up, looking rather bleary. 'No, sir, I haven't, sir!' he said.

Frodo stripped the blankets from Pippin and rolled him over, and then walked off to the edge of the wood. Away eastward the sun was rising red out of the mists that lay thick on the world. Touched with gold and red the autumn trees seemed to be sailing rootless in a shadowy sea. A little below him to the left the road ran down steeply into a hollow and disappeared.

When he returned Sam and Pippin had got a good fire going. 'Water!' shouted Pippin. 'Where's the water?'

'I don't keep water in my pockets,' said Frodo. 'We thought you had gone to find some,' said Pippin, busy setting out the food, and cups. 'You had better go now.'

'You can come too,' said Frodo, 'and bring all the water-bottles.' There was a stream at the foot of the hill. They filled their bottles and the small camping kettle at a little fall where the water fell a few feet over an outcrop of grey stone. It was icy cold; and they spluttered and puffed as they bathed their faces and hands.

When their breakfast was over, and their packs all trussed up again, it was after ten o'clock, and the day was beginning to turn fine and hot. They went down the slope, and across the stream where it dived under the road, and up the next slope, and up and down another shoulder of the hills; and by that time their cloaks, blankets, water, food, and other gear already seemed a heavy burden.

The day's march promised to be warm and tiring work. After some miles, however, the road ceased to roll up and down: it climbed to the top of a steep bank in a weary zig-zagging sort of way, and then prepared to go down for the last time. In front of them they saw the lower lands dotted with small clumps of trees that melted away in the distance to a brown woodland haze. They were looking across the Woody End towards the Brandywine River. The road wound away before them like a piece of string.

'The road goes on for ever,' said Pippin; 'but I can't without a rest. It is high time for lunch.' He sat down on the bank at the side of the road and looked away east into the haze, beyond which lay the River, and the end of the Shire in which he had spent all his life. Sam stood by him. His round eyes were wide open . for he was looking across lands he had never seen to a new horizon.

'Do Elves live in those woods?' he asked.

'Not that I ever heard,' said Pippin. Frodo was silent. He too was gazing eastward along the road, as if he had never seen it before. Suddenly he spoke, aloud but as if to himself, saying slowly:

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with weary feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

'That sounds like a bit of old Bilbo's rhyming,' said Pippin. 'Or is it one of your imitations? It does not sound altogether encouraging.'

'I don't know,' said Frodo. It came to me then, as if I was making it up; but I may have heard it long ago. Certainly it reminds me very much of Bilbo in the last years, before he went away. He used often to say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: its springs were at every doorstep, and every path was its tributary. "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door," he used to say. "You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to. Do you realize that this is the very path that goes through Mirkwood, and that if you let it, it might take you to the Lonely Mountain or even further and to worse places?" He used to say that on the path outside the front door at Bag End, especially after he had been out for a long walk.'

'Well, the Road won't sweep me anywhere for an hour at least,' said Pippin, unslinging his pack. The others followed his example, putting their packs against the bank and their legs out into the road. After a rest they had a good lunch, and then more rest.

The sun was beginning to get low and the light of afternoon was on the land as they went down the hill. So far they had not met a soul on the road. This way was not much used, being hardly fit for carts, and there was little traffic to the Woody End. They had been jogging along again for an hour or more when Sam stopped a moment as if listening. They were now on level ground, and the road after much winding lay straight ahead through grass-land sprinkled with tall trees, outliers of the approaching woods.

'I can hear a pony or a horse coming along the road behind,' said Sam.

They looked back, but the turn of the road prevented them from seeing far. 'I wonder if that is Gandalf coming after us,' said Frodo; but even as he said it, he had a feeling that it was not so, and a sudden desire to hide from the view of the rider came over him.

'It may not matter much,' he said apologetically, 'but I would rather not be seen on the road . by anyone. I am sick of my doings being noticed and discussed. And if it is Gandalf,' he added as an afterthought, 'we can give him a little surprise, to pay him out for being so late. Let's get out of sight!'

The other two ran quickly to the left and down into a little hollow not far from the road. There they lay flat. Frodo hesitated for a second: curiosity or some other feeling was struggling with his desire to hide. The sound of hoofs drew nearer. Just in time he threw himself down in a patch of long grass behind a tree that overshadowed the road. Then he lifted his head and peered cautiously above one of the great roots.

Round the corner came a black horse, no hobbit-pony but a full-sized horse; and on it sat a large man, who seemed to crouch in the saddle, wrapped in a great black cloak and hood, so that only his boots in the high stirrups showed below; his face was shadowed and invisible.

When it reached the tree and was level with Frodo the horse stopped. The riding figure sat quite still with its head bowed, as if listening. From inside the hood came a noise as of someone sniffing to catch an elusive scent; the head turned from side to side of the road.

A sudden unreasoning fear of discovery laid hold of Frodo, and he thought of his Ring. He hardly dared to breathe, and yet the desire to get it out of his pocket became so strong that he began slowly to move his hand. He felt that he had only to slip it on, and then he would be safe. The advice of Gandalf seemed absurd. Bilbo had used the Ring. 'And I am still in the Shire,' he thought, as his hand touched the chain on which it hung. At that moment the rider sat up, and shook the reins. The horse stepped forward, walking slowly at first, and then breaking into a quick trot.

Frodo crawled to the edge of the road and watched the rider, until he dwindled into the distance. He could not be quite sure, but it seemed to him that suddenly, before it passed out of sight, the horse turned aside and went into the trees on the right.

'Well, I call that very queer, and indeed disturbing,' said Frodo to himself, as he walked towards his companions. Pippin and Sam had remained flat in the grass, and had seen nothing; so Frodo described the rider and his strange behaviour.

'I can't say why, but I felt certain he was looking or smelling for me; and also I felt certain that I did not want him to discover me. I've never seen or fell anything like it in the Shire before.'

'But what has one of the Big People got to do with us?' said Pippin. 'And what is he doing in this part of the world?'

'There are some Men about,' said Frodo. 'Down in the Southfarthing they have had trouble with Big People, I believe. But I have never heard of anything like this rider. I wonder where he comes from.'

'Begging your pardon,' put in Sam suddenly, 'I know where he comes from. It's from Hobbiton that this here black rider comes, unless there's more than one. And I know where he's going to.'

'What do you mean?' said Frodo sharply, looking at him in astonishment. 'Why didn't you speak up before?'

'I have only just remembered, sir. It was like this: when I got back to our hole yesterday evening with the key, my dad, he says to me: Hello, Sam! he says. I thought you were away with Mr. Frodo this morning. There's been a strange customer asking for Mr. Baggins of Bag End, and he's only just gone. I've sent him on to Bucklebury. Not that I liked the sound of him. He seemed mighty put out, when I told him Mr. Baggins had left his old home for good. Hissed at me, he did. It gave me quite a shudder. What sort of a fellow was he? says I to the Gaffer. I don't know, says he; but he wasn't a hobbit. He was tall and black-like, and he stooped aver me. I reckon it was one of the Big Folk from foreign parts. He spoke funny.

'I couldn't stay to hear more, sir, since you were waiting; and I didn't give much heed to it myself. The Gaffer is getting old, and more than a bit blind, and it must have been near dark when this fellow come up the Hill and found him taking the air at the end of our Row. I hope he hasn't done no harm, sir, nor me.'

'The Gaffer can't be blamed anyway,' said Frodo. 'As a matter of fact I heard him talking to a stranger, who seemed to be inquiring for me, and I nearly went and asked him who it was. I wish I had, or you had told me about it before. I might have been more careful on the road.'

'Still, there may be no connexion between this rider and the Gaffer's stranger,' said Pippin. 'We left Hobbiton secretly enough, and I don't see how he could have followed us.'

'What about the smelling, sir?' said Sam. 'And the Gaffer said he was a black chap.'

'I wish I had waited for Gandalf,' Frodo muttered. 'But perhaps it would only have made matters worse.'

'Then you know or guess something about this rider?' said Pippin, who had caught the muttered words.

'I don't know, and I would rather not guess,' said Frodo. 'All right, cousin Frodo! You can keep your secret for the present, if you want to be mysterious. In the meanwhile what are we to do? I should like a bite and a sup, but somehow I think we had better move on from here. Your talk of sniffing riders with invisible noses has unsettled me.'

'Yes, I think we will move on now,' said Frodo; 'but not on the road -in case that rider comes back, or another follows him. We ought to do a good step more today. Buckland is still miles away.'

The shadows of the trees were long and thin on the grass, as they started off again. They now kept a stone's throw to the left of the road, and kept out of sight of it as much as they could. But this hindered them; for the grass was thick and tussocky, and the ground uneven, and the trees began to draw together into thickets.

The sun had gone down red behind the hills at their backs, and evening was coming on before they came back to the road at the end of the long level over which it had run straight for some miles. At that point it bent left and went down into the lowlands of the Yale making for Stock; but a lane branched right, winding through a wood of ancient oak-trees on its way to Woodhall. 'That is the way for us,' said Frodo.

Not far from the road-meeting they came on the huge hulk of a tree: it was still alive and had leaves on the small branches that it had put out round the broken stumps of its long-fallen limbs; but it was hollow, and could be entered by a great crack on the side away from the road. The hobbits crept inside, and sat there upon a floor of old leaves and decayed wood. They rested and had a light meal, talking quietly and listening from time to time.

Twilight was about them as they crept back to the lane. The West wind was sighing in the branches. Leaves were whispering. Soon the road began to fall gently but steadily into the dusk. A star came out above the trees in the darkening East before them. They went abreast and in step, to keep up their spirits. After a time, as the stars grew thicker and brighter, the feeling of disquiet left them, and they no longer listened for the sound of hoofs. They began to hum softly, as hobbits have a way of doing as they walk along, especially when they are drawing near to home at night. With most hobbits it is a supper-song or a bed-song; but these hobbits hummed a walking-song (though not, of course, without any mention of supper and bed). Bilbo Baggins had made the words, to a tune that was as old as the hills, and taught it to Frodo as they walked in the lanes of the Water-valley and talked about Adventure.

Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we may meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone.
Tree and flower and leaf and grass,
Let them pass! Let them pass!
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by! Pass them by!

Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run
Towards the Moon or to the Sun.
Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,
Let them go! Let them go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!

Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,
And then to bed! And then to bed!

The song ended. 'And now to bed! And now to bed!' sang Pippin in a high voice.

'Hush!' said Frodo. 'I think I hear hoofs again.'

They slopped suddenly and stood as silent as tree-shadows, listening. There was a sound of hoofs in the lane, some way behind, but coming slow and clear down the wind. Quickly and quietly they slipped off the path, and ran into the deeper shade under the oak-trees.

'Don't let us go too far!' said Frodo. 'I don't want to be seen, but I want to see if it is another Black Rider.'

'Very well!' said Pippin. 'But don't forget the sniffing!'

The hoofs drew nearer. They had no time to find any hiding-place better than the general darkness under the trees; Sam and Pippin crouched behind a large tree-bole, while Frodo crept back a few yards towards the lane. It showed grey and pale, a line of fading light through the wood. Above it the stars were thick in the dim sky, but there was no moon.

The sound of hoofs stopped. As Frodo watched he saw something dark pass across the lighter space between two trees, and then halt. It looked like the black shade of a horse led by a smaller black shadow. The black shadow stood close to the point where they had left the path, and it swayed from side to side. Frodo thought he heard the sound of snuffling. The shadow bent to the ground, and then began to crawl towards him.

Once more the desire to slip on the Ring came over Frodo; but this time it was stronger than before. So strong that, almost before he realized what he was doing, his hand was groping in his pocket. But at that moment there came a sound like mingled song and laughter. Clear voices rose and fell in the starlit air. The black shadow straightened up and retreated. It climbed on to the shadowy horse and seemed to vanish across the lane into the darkness on the other side. Frodo breathed again.

'Elves!' exclaimed Sam in a hoarse whisper. 'Elves, sir!' He would have burst out of the trees and dashed off towards the voices, if they had not pulled him back.

'Yes, it is Elves,' said Frodo. 'One can meet them sometimes in the Woody End. They don't live in the Shire, but they wander into it in Spring and Autumn, out of their own lands away beyond the Tower Hills. I am thankful that they do! You did not see, but that Black Rider stopped just here and was actually crawling towards us when the song began. As soon as he heard the voices he slipped away.'

'What about the Elves?' said Sam, too excited to trouble about the rider. 'Can't we go and see them?'

'Listen! They are coming this way,' said Frodo. 'We have only to wait.' The singing drew nearer. One clear voice rose now above the others. It was singing in the fair elven-tongue, of which Frodo knew only a little, and the others knew nothing. Yet the sound blending with the melody seemed to shape itself in their thought into words which they only partly understood. This was the song as Frodo heard it:

Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear!
O Queen beyond the Western Seas!
O Light to us that wander here
Amid the world of woven trees!

Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!
Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath!
Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee
In a far land beyond the Sea.

O stars that in the Sunless Year
With shining hand by her were sawn,
In windy fields now bright and clear
We see your silver blossom blown!

O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight on the Western Seas.

The song ended. 'These are High Elves! They spoke the name of Elbereth!' said Frodo in amazement, 'Few of that fairest folk are ever seen in the Shire. Not many now remain in Middle-earth, east of the Great Sea. This is indeed a strange chance!'

The hobbits sat in shadow by the wayside. Before long the Elves came down the lane towards the valley. They passed slowly, and the hobbits could see the starlight glimmering on their hair and in their eyes. They bore no lights, yet as they walked a shimmer, like the light of the moon above the rim of the hills before it rises, seemed to fall about their feet. They were now silent, and as the last Elf passed he turned and looked towards the hobbits and laughed.

'Hail, Frodo!' he cried. 'You are abroad late. Or are you perhaps lost?' Then he called aloud to the others, and all the company stopped and gathered round.

'This is indeed wonderful!' they said. 'Three hobbits in a wood at night! We have not seen such a thing since Bilbo went away. What is the meaning of it?'

'The meaning of it, fair people,' said Frodo, 'is simply that we seem to be going the same way as you are. I like walking under the stars. But I would welcome your company.'

'But we have no need of other company, and hobbits are so dull,' they laughed. 'And how do you know that we go the same way as you, for you do not know whither we are going?'

'And how do you know my name?' asked Frodo in return.

'We know many things,' they said. 'We have seen you often before with Bilbo, though you may not have seen us.'

'Who are you, and who is your lord?' asked Frodo.

'I am Gildor,' answered their leader, the Elf who had first hailed him. 'Gildor Inglorion of the House of Finrod. We are Exiles, and most of our kindred have long ago departed and we too are now only tarrying here a while, ere we return over the Great Sea. But some of our kinsfolk dwell still in peace in Rivendell. Come now, Frodo, tell us what you are doing? For we see that there is some shadow of fear upon you.'

'O Wise People!' interrupted Pippin eagerly. 'Tell us about the Black Riders!'

'Black Riders?' they said in low voices. 'Why do you ask about Black Riders?'

'Because two Black Riders have overtaken us today, or one has done so twice,' said Pippin; 'only a little while ago he slipped away as you drew near.'

The Elves did not answer at once, but spoke together softly in their own tongue. At length Gildor turned to the hobbits. 'We will not speak of this here,' he said. 'We think you had best come now with us. It is not our custom, but for this time we will lake you on our road, and you shall lodge with us tonight, if you will.'

'O Fair Folk! This is good fortune beyond my hope,' said Pippin. Sam was speechless. 'I thank you indeed, Gildor Inglorion,' said Frodo bowing. 'Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo, a star shines on the hour of our meeting,' he added in the high-elven speech.

'Be careful, friends!' cried Gildor laughing. 'Speak no secrets! Here is a scholar in the Ancient Tongue. Bilbo was a good master. Hail, Elf-friend!' he said, bowing to Frodo. 'Come now with your friends and join our company! You had best walk in the middle so that you may not stray. You may be weary before we halt.'

'Why? Where are you going?' asked Frodo.

'For tonight we go to the woods on the hills above Woodhall. It is some miles, but you shall have rest at the end of it, and it will shorten your journey tomorrow.'

They now marched on again in silence, and passed like shadows and faint lights: for Elves (even more than hobbits) could walk when they wished without sound or footfall. Pippin soon began to feel sleepy, and staggered once or twice; but each time a tall Elf at his side put out his arm and saved him from a fall. Sam walked along at Frodo's side, as if in a dream, with an expression on his face half of fear and half of astonished joy.

The woods on either side became denser; the trees were now younger and thicker; and as the lane went lower, running down into a fold of the hills, there were many deep brakes of hazel on the rising slopes at either hand. At last the Elves turned aside from the path. A green ride lay almost unseen through the thickets on the right; and this they followed as it wound away back up the wooded slopes on to the top of a shoulder of the hills that stood out into the lower land of the river-valley. Suddenly they came out of the shadow of the trees, and before them lay a wide space of grass, grey under the night. On three sides the woods pressed upon it; but eastward the ground fell steeply and the tops of the dark trees, growing at the bottom of the slope, were below their feet. Beyond, the low lands lay dim and flat under the stars. Nearer at hand a few lights twinkled in the village of Woodhall.

The Elves sat on the grass and spoke together in soft voices; they seemed to take no further notice of the hobbits. Frodo and his companions wrapped themselves in cloaks and blankets, and drowsiness stole over them. The night grew on, and the lights in the valley went out. Pippin fell asleep, pillowed on a green hillock.

Away high in the East swung Remmirath, the Netted Stars, and slowly above the mists red Borgil rose, glowing like a jewel of fire. Then by some shift of airs all the mist was drawn away like a veil, and there leaned up, as he climbed over the rim of the world, the Swordsman of the Sky, Menelvagor with his shining belt. The Elves all burst into song. Suddenly under the trees a fire sprang up with a red light.

'Come!' the Elves called to the hobbits. 'Come! Now is the time for speech and merriment!'

Pippin sat up and rubbed his eyes. He shivered. 'There is a fire in the hall, and food for hungry guests,' said an Elf standing before him.

At the south end of the greensward there was an opening. There the green floor ran on into the wood, and formed a wide space like a hall, roofed by the boughs of trees. Their great trunks ran like pillars down each side. In the middle there was a wood-fire blazing, and upon the tree-pillars torches with lights of gold and silver were burning steadily. The Elves sat round the fire upon the grass or upon the sawn rings of old trunks. Some went to and fro bearing cups and pouring drink; others brought food on heaped plates and dishes.

'This is poor fare,' they said to the hobbits; 'for we are lodging in the greenwood far from our halls. If ever you are our guests at home, we will treat you better.'

'It seems to me good enough for a birthday-party,' said Frodo.

Pippin afterwards recalled little of either food or drink, for his mind was filled with the light upon the elf-faces, and the sound of voices so various and so beautiful that he felt in a waking dream. But he remembered that there was bread, surpassing the savour of a fair white loaf to one who is starving; and fruits sweet as wildberries and richer than the tended fruits of gardens; he drained a cup that was filled with a fragrant draught, cool as a clear fountain, golden as a summer afternoon.

Sam could never describe in words, nor picture clearly to himself, what he felt or thought that night, though it remained in his memory as one of the chief events of his life. The nearest he ever got was to say: 'Well, sir, if I could grow apples like that, I would call myself a gardener. But it was the singing that went to my heart, if you know what I mean.'

Frodo sat, eating, drinking, and talking with delight; but his mind was chiefly on the words spoken. He knew a little of the elf-speech and listened eagerly. Now and again he spoke to those that served him and thanked them in their own language. They smiled at him and said laughing: 'Here is a jewel among hobbits!'

After a while Pippin fell fast asleep, and was lifted up and borne away to a bower under the trees; there he was laid upon a soft bed and slept the rest of the night away. Sam refused to leave his master. When Pippin had gone, he came and sat curled up at Frodo's feet, where at last he nodded and closed his eyes. Frodo remained long awake, talking with Gildor.

They spoke of many things, old and new, and Frodo questioned Gildor much about happenings in the wide world outside the Shire. The tidings were mostly sad and ominous: of gathering darkness, the wars of Men, and the flight of the Elves. At last Frodo asked the question that was nearest to his heart:

'Tell me, Gildor, have you ever seen Bilbo since he left us?'

Gildor smiled. 'Yes,' he answered. 'Twice. He said farewell to us on this very spot. But I saw him once again, far from here.' He would say no more about Bilbo, and Frodo fell silent.

'You do not ask me or tell me much that concerns yourself, Frodo,' said Gildor. 'But I already know a little, and I can read more in your face and in the thought behind your questions. You are leaving the Shire, and yet you doubt that you will find what you seek, or accomplish what you intend, or that you will ever return. Is not that so?'

'It is,' said Frodo; 'but I thought my going was a secret known only to Gandalf and my faithful Sam.' He looked down at Sam, who was snoring gently.

'The secret will not reach the Enemy from us,' said Gildor.

'The Enemy?' said Frodo. 'Then you know why I am leaving the Shire?'

'I do not know for what reason the Enemy is pursuing you,' answered Gildor; 'but I perceive that he is . strange indeed though that seems to me. And I warn you that peril is now both before you and behind you, and upon either side.'

'You mean the Riders? I feared that they were servants of the Enemy. What are the Black Riders?'

'Has Gandalf told you nothing?'

'Nothing about such creatures.'

'Then I think it is not for me to say more . lest terror should keep you from your journey. For it seems to me that you have set out only just in time, if indeed you are in time. You must now make haste, and neither stay nor turn back; for the Shire is no longer any protection to you.'

'I cannot imagine what information could be more terrifying than your hints and warnings,' exclaimed Frodo. 'I knew that danger lay ahead, of course; but I did not expect to meet it in our own Shire. Can't a hobbit walk from the Water to the River in peace?'

'But it is not your own Shire,' said Gildor. 'Others dwelt here before hobbits were; and others will dwell here again when hobbits are no more. The wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot for ever fence it out.'

'I know . and yet it has always seemed so safe and familiar. What can I do now? My plan was to leave the Shire secretly, and make my way to Rivendell; but now my footsteps are dogged, before ever I get to Buckland.'

'I think you should still follow that plan,' said Gildor. 'I do not think the Road will prove too hard for your courage. But if you desire clearer counsel, you should ask Gandalf. I do not know the reason for your flight, and therefore I do not know by what means your pursuers will assail you. These things Gandalf must know. I suppose that you will see him before you leave the Shire?'

'I hope so. But that is another thing that makes me anxious. I have been expecting Gandalf for many days. He was to have come to Hobbiton at the latest two nights ago; but he has never appeared. Now I am wondering what can have happened. Should I wait for him?'

Gildor was silent for a moment. 'I do not like this news,' he said at last. 'That Gandalf should be late, does not bode well. But it is said: Do not meddle in the affairs of Wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger. The choice is yours: to go or wait.'

'And it is also said,' answered Frodo: 'Go not to the Elves for counsel, for they will say both no and yes.'

'Is it indeed?' laughed Gildor. 'Elves seldom give unguarded advice, for advice is a dangerous gift, even from the wise to the wise, and all courses may run ill. But what would you? You have not told me all concerning yourself; and how then shall I choose better than you? But if you demand advice, I will for friendship's sake give it. I think you should now go at once, without delay; and if Gandalf does not come before you set out, then I also advise this: do not go alone. Take such friends as are trusty and willing. Now you should be grateful, for I do not give this counsel gladly. The Elves have their own labours and their own sorrows, and they are little concerned with the ways of hobbits, or of any other creatures upon earth. Our paths cross theirs seldom, by chance or purpose. In this meeting there may be more than chance; but the purpose is not clear to me, and I fear to say too much.'

'I am deeply grateful,' said Frodo; 'but I wish you would tell me plainly what the Black Riders are. If I take your advice I may not see Gandalf for a long while, and I ought to know what is the danger that pursues me.'

'Is it not enough to know that they are servants of the Enemy?' answered Gildor. 'Flee them! Speak no words to them! They are deadly. Ask no more of me! But my heart forbodes that, ere all is ended, you, Frodo son of Drogo, will know more of these fell things than Gildor Inglorion. May Elbereth protect you!'

'But where shall I find courage?' asked Frodo. 'That is what I chiefly need.'

'Courage is found in unlikely places,' said Gildor. 'Be of good hope! Sleep now! In the morning we shall have gone; but we will send our messages through the lands. The Wandering Companies shall know of your journey, and those that have power for good shall be on the watch. I name you Elf-friend; and may the stars shine upon the end of your road! Seldom have we had such delight in strangers, and it is fair to hear words of the Ancient Speech from the lips of other wanderers in the world.'

Frodo felt sleep coming upon him, even as Gildor finished speaking. 'I will sleep now,' he said; and the Elf led him to a bower beside Pippin, and he threw himself upon a bed and fell at once into a dreamless slumber.In the morning Frodo woke refreshed. He was lying in a bower made by a living tree with branches laced and drooping to the ground; his bed was of fern and grass, deep and soft and strangely fragrant. The sun was shining through the fluttering leaves, which were still green upon the tree. He jumped up and went out.

Sam was sitting on the grass near the edge of the wood. Pippin was standing studying the sky and weather. There was no sign of the Elves.

'They have left us fruit and drink, and bread,' said Pippin. 'Come and have your breakfast. The bread tastes almost as good as it did last night. I did not want to leave you any, but Sam insisted.'

Frodo sat down beside Sam and began to eat. 'What is the plan for today?' asked Pippin.

'To walk to Bucklebury as quickly as possible,' answered Frodo, and gave his attention to the food.

'Do you think we shall see anything of those Riders?' asked Pippin cheerfully. Under the morning sun the prospect of seeing a whole troop of them did not seem very alarming to him.

'Yes, probably,' said Frodo, not liking the reminder. 'But I hope to get across the river without their seeing us.'

'Did you find out anything about them from Gildor?'

'Not much . only hints and riddles,' said Frodo evasively. 'Did you ask about the sniffing?'

'We didn't discuss it,' said Frodo with his mouth full.

'You should have. I am sure it is very important.'

'In that case I am sure Gildor would have refused to explain it,' said Frodo sharply. 'And now leave me in peace for a bit! I don't want to answer a string of questions while I am eating. I want to think!'

'Good heavens!' said Pippin. 'At breakfast?' He walked away towards the edge of the green.

From Frodo's mind the bright morning . treacherously bright, he thought . had not banished the fear of pursuit; and he pondered the words of Gildor. The merry voice of Pippin came to him. He was running on the green turf and singing.

'No! I could not!' he said to himself. 'It is one thing to take my young friends walking over the Shire with me, until we are hungry and weary, and food and bed are sweet. To take them into exile, where hunger and weariness may have no cure, is quite another . even if they are willing to come. The inheritance is mine alone. I don't think I ought even to take Sam.' He looked at Sam Gamgee, and discovered that Sam was watching him.

'Well, Sam!' he said. 'What about it? I am leaving the Shire as soon as ever I can . in fact I have made up my mind now not even to wait a day at Crickhollow, if it can be helped.'

'Very good, sir!'

'You still mean to come with me?'

'I do.'

'It is going to be very dangerous, Sam. 'It is already dangerous. Most likely neither of us will come back.'

'If you don't come back, sir, then I shan't, that's certain,' said Sam. 'Don't you leave him! they said to me. Leave him! I said. I never mean to. I am going with him, if he climbs to the Moon, and if any of those Black Rulers try to stop him, they'll have Sam Gamgee to reckon with, I said. They laughed.'

'Who are they, and what are you talking about?'

'The Elves, sir. We had some talk last night; and they seemed to know you were going away, so I didn't see the use of denying it. Wonderful folk, Elves, sir! Wonderful!'

'They are,' said Frodo. 'Do you like them still, now you have had a closer view?'

'They seem a bit above my likes and dislikes, so to speak,' answered Sam slowly. 'It don't seem to matter what I think about them. They are quite different from what I expected . so old and young, and so gay and sad, as it were.'

Frodo looked at Sam rather startled, half expecting to see some outward sign of the odd change that seemed to have come over him. It did not sound like the voice of the old Sam Gamgee that he thought he knew. But it looked like the old Sam Gamgee sitting there, except that his face was unusually thoughtful.

'Do you feel any need to leave the Shire now . now that your wish to see them has come true already?' he asked.

'Yes, sir. I don't know how to say it, but after last night I feel different. I seem to see ahead, in a kind of way. I know we are going to take a very long road, into darkness; but I know I can't turn back. It isn't to see Elves now, nor dragons, nor mountains, that I want . I don't rightly know what I want: but I have something to do before the end, and it lies ahead, not in the Shire. I must see it through, sir, if you understand me.'

'I don't altogether. But I understand that Gandalf chose me a good companion. I am content. We will go together.'

Frodo finished his breakfast in silence. Then standing up he looked over the land ahead, and called to Pippin.

'All ready to start?' he said as Pippin ran up. 'We must be getting off at once. We slept late; and there are a good many miles to go.'

'You slept late, you mean,' said Pippin. 'I was up long before; and we are only waiting for you to finish eating and thinking.'

'I have finished both now. And I am going to make for Bucklebury Ferry as quickly as possible. I am not going out of the way, back to the road we left last night: I am going to cut straight across country from here.'

'Then you are going to fly,' said Pippin. 'You won't cut straight on foot anywhere in this country.'

'We can cut straighter than the road anyway,' answered Frodo. 'The Ferry is east from Woodhall; but the hard road curves away to the left -you can see a bend of it away north over there. It goes round the north end of the Marish so as to strike the causeway from the Bridge above Stock. But that is miles out of the way. We could save a quarter of the distance if we made a line for the Ferry from where we stand.'

'Short cuts make long delays,' argued Pippin. 'The country is rough round here, and there are bogs and all kinds of difficulties down in the Marish -I know the land in these parts. And if you are worrying about Black Riders, I can't see that it is any worse meeting them on a road than in a wood or a field.'

'It is less easy to find people in the woods and fields,' answered Frodo. 'And if you are supposed to be on the road, there is some chance that you will be looked for on the road and not off it.'

'All right!' said Pippin. 'I will follow you into every bog and ditch. But it is hard! I had counted on passing the Golden Perch at Stock before sundown. The best beer in the Eastfarthing, or used to be: it is a long time since I tasted it.'

'That settles it!' said Frodo. 'Short cuts make delays, but inns make longer ones. At all costs we must keep you away from the Golden Perch. We want to get to Bucklebury before dark. What do you say, Sam?'

'I will go along with you, Mr. Frodo,' said Sam (in spite of private misgiving and a deep regret for the best beer in the Eastfarthing).

'Then if we are going to toil through bog and briar, let's go now!' said Pippin.

It was already nearly as hot as it had been the day before; but clouds were beginning to come up from the West. It looked likely to turn to rain. The hobbits scrambled down a steep green bank and plunged into the thick trees below. Their course had been chosen to leave Woodhall to their left, and to cut slanting through the woods that clustered along the eastern side of the hills, until they reached the flats beyond. Then they could make straight for the Ferry over country that was open, except for a few ditches and fences. Frodo reckoned they had eighteen miles to go in a straight line.

He soon found that the thicket was closer and more tangled than it had appeared. There were no paths in the undergrowth, and they did not get on very fast. When they had struggled to the bottom of the bank, they found a stream running down from the hills behind in a deeply dug bed with steep slippery sides overhung with brambles. Most inconveniently it cut across the line they had chosen. They could not jump over it, nor indeed get across it at all without getting wet, scratched, and muddy. They halted, wondering what to do. 'First check!' said Pippin, smiling grimly.

Sam Gamgee looked back. Through an opening in the trees he caught a glimpse of the top of the green bank from which they had climbed down.

'Look!' he said, clutching Frodo by the arm. They all looked, and on the edge high above them they saw against the sky a horse standing. Beside it stooped a black figure.

They at once gave up any idea of going back. Frodo led the way, and plunged quickly into the thick bushes beside the stream. 'Whew!' he said to Pippin. 'We were both right! The short cut has gone crooked already; but we got under cover only just in time. You've got sharp ears, Sam: can you hear anything coming?'

They stood still, almost holding their breath as they listened; but there was no sound of pursuit. 'I don't fancy he would try bringing his horse down that bank,' said Sam. 'But I guess he knows we came down it. We had better be going on.'

Going on was not altogether easy. They had packs to carry, and the bushes and brambles were reluctant to let them through. They were cut off from the wind by the ridge behind, and the air was still and stuffy. When they forced their way at last into more open ground, they were hot and tired and very scratched, and they were also no longer certain of the direction in which they were going. The banks of the stream sank, as it reached the levels and became broader and shallower, wandering off towards the Marish and the River.

'Why, this is the Stock-brook!' said Pippin. 'If we are going to try and get back on to our course, we must cross at once and bear right.'

They waded the stream, and hurried over a wide open space, rush-grown and treeless, on the further side. Beyond that they came again to a belt of trees: tall oaks, for the most part, with here and there an elm tree or an ash. The ground was fairly level, and there was little undergrowth; but the trees were loo close for them to see far ahead. The leaves blew upwards in sudden gusts of wind, and spots of rain began to fall from the overcast sky. Then the wind died away and the rain came streaming down. They trudged along as fast as they could, over patches of grass, and through thick drifts of old leaves; and all about them the rain pattered and trickled. They did not talk, but kept glancing back, and from side to side.

After half an hour Pippin said: 'I hope we have not turned too much towards the south, and are not walking longwise through this wood! It is not a very broad belt -I should have said no more than a mile at the widest . and we ought to have been through it by now.'

'It is no good our starting to go in zig-zags,' said Frodo. 'That won't mend matters. Let us keep on as we are going! I am not sure that I want to come out into the open yet.'

They went on for perhaps another couple of miles. Then the sun gleamed out of ragged clouds again and the rain lessened. It was now past mid-day, and they felt it was high time for lunch. They halted under an elm tree: its leaves though fast turning yellow were still thick, and the ground at its feel was fairly dry and sheltered. When they came to make their meal, they found that the Elves had filled their bottles with a clear drink, pale golden in colour: it had the scent of a honey made of many flowers, and was wonderfully refreshing. Very soon they were laughing, and snapping their fingers at rain, and at Black Riders. The last few miles, they felt, would soon be behind them.

Frodo propped his back against the tree-trunk, and closed his eyes. Sam and Pippin sat near, and they began to hum, and then to sing softly:

Ho! Ho! Ho! to the bottle I go
To heal my heart and drown my woe.
Rain may fall and wind may blow,
And many miles be still to go,
But under a tall tree I will lie,
And let the clouds go sailing by.

Ho! Ho! Ho! they began again louder. They stopped short suddenly. Frodo sprang to his feet. A long-drawn wail came down the wind, like the cry of some evil and lonely creature. It rose and fell, and ended on a high piercing note. Even as they sat and stood, as if suddenly frozen, it was answered by another cry, fainter and further off, but no less chilling to the blood. There was then a silence, broken only by the sound of the wind in the leaves.

'And what do you think that was?' Pippin asked at last, trying to speak lightly, but quavering a little. 'If it was a bird, it was one that I never heard in the Shire before.'

'It was not bird or beast,' said Frodo. 'It was a call, or a signal . there were words in that cry, though I could not catch them. But no hobbit has such a voice.'

No more was said about it. They were all thinking of the Riders, but no one spoke of them. They were now reluctant either to stay or go on; but sooner or later they had got to get across the open country to the Ferry, and it was best to go sooner and in daylight. In a few moments they had shouldered their packs again and were off.

Before long the wood came to a sudden end. Wide grass-lands stretched before them. They now saw that they had, in fact, turned too much to the south. Away over the flats they could glimpse the low hill of Bucklebury across the River, but it was now to their left. Creeping cautiously out from the edge of the trees, they set off across the open as quickly as they could.

At first they felt afraid, away from the shelter of the wood. Far back behind them stood the high place where they had breakfasted. Frodo half expected to see the small distant figure of a horseman on the ridge dark against the sky; but there was no sign of one. The sun escaping from the breaking clouds, as it sank towards the hills they had left, was now shining brightly again. Their fear left them, though they still felt uneasy. But the land became steadily more tame and well-ordered. Soon they came into well- tended fields and meadows: there were hedges and gates and dikes for drainage. Everything seemed quiet and peaceful, just an ordinary corner of the Shire. Their spirits rose with every step. The line of the River grew nearer; and the Black Riders began to seem like phantoms of the woods now left far behind.

They passed along the edge of a huge turnip-field, and came to a stout gate. Beyond it a rutted lane ran between low well-laid hedges towards a distant clump of trees. Pippin stopped.

'I know these fields and this gate!' he said. 'This is Bamfurlong, old Farmer Maggot's land. That's his farm away there in the trees.'

'One trouble after another!' said Frodo, looking nearly as much alarmed as if Pippin had declared the lane was the slot leading to a dragon's den. The others looked at him in surprise.

'What's wrong with old Maggot?' asked Pippin. 'He's a good friend to all the Brandy bucks. Of course he's a terror to trespassers, and keeps ferocious dogs . but after all, folk down here are near the border and have to be more on their guard.'

'I know,' said Frodo. 'But all the same,' he added with a shamefaced laugh, 'I am terrified of him and his dogs. I have avoided his farm for years and years. He caught me several times trespassing after mushrooms, when I was a youngster at Brandy Hall. On the last occasion he beat me, and then took me and showed me to his dogs. "See, lads," he said, "next time this young varmint sets foot on my land, you can eat him. Now see him off!" They chased me all the way to the Ferry. I have never got over the fright . though I daresay the beasts knew their business and would not really have touched me.'

Pippin laughed. 'Well, it's time you made it up. Especially if you are coming back to live in Buckland. Old Maggot is really a stout fellow . if you leave his mushrooms alone. Let's get into the lane and then we shan't be trespassing. If we meet him, I'll do the talking. He is a friend of Merry's, and I used to come here with him a good deal at one time.'

They went along the lane, until they saw the thatched roofs of a large house and farm-buildings peeping out among the trees ahead. The Maggots, and the Puddifoots of Stock, and most of the inhabitants of the Marish, were house-dwellers; and this farm was stoutly built of brick and had a high wall all round it. There was a wide wooden gate opening out of the wall into the lane.

Suddenly as they drew nearer a terrific baying and barking broke out, and a loud voice was heard shouting: 'Grip! Fang! Wolf! Come on, lads!'

Frodo and Sam stopped dead, but Pippin walked on a few paces. The gate opened and three huge dogs came pelting out into the lane, and dashed towards the travellers, barking fiercely. They took no notice of Pippin; but Sam shrank against the wall, while two wolvish-looking dogs sniffed at him suspiciously, and snarled if he moved. The largest and most ferocious of the three halted in front of Frodo, bristling and growling.

Through the gate there now appeared a broad thick-set hobbit with a round red face. 'Hallo! Hallo! And who may you be, and what may you be wanting?' he asked.

'Good afternoon, Mr. Maggot!' said Pippin.

The farmer looked at him closely. 'Well, if it isn't Master Pippin . Mr. Peregrin Took, I should say!' he cried, changing from a scowl to a grin. 'It's a long time since I saw you round here. It's lucky for you that I know you. I was just going out to set my dogs on any strangers. There are some funny things going on today. Of course, we do get queer folk wandering in these parts at times. Too near the River,' he said, shaking his head. 'But this fellow was the most outlandish I have ever set eyes on. He won't cross my land without leave a second time, not if I can stop it.'

'What fellow do you mean?' asked Pippin.

'Then you haven't seen him?' said the farmer. 'He went up the lane towards the causeway not a long while back. He was a funny customer and asking funny questions. But perhaps you'll come along inside, and we'll pass the news more comfortable. I've a drop of good ale on tap, if you and your friends are willing, Mr. Took.'

It seemed plain that the farmer would tell them more, if allowed to do it in his own time and fashion, so they all accepted the invitation. 'What about the dogs?' asked Frodo anxiously.

The farmer laughed. 'They won't harm you . not unless I tell 'em to. Here, Grip! Fang! Heel!' he cried. 'Heel, Wolf!' To the relief of Frodo and Sam, the dogs walked away and let them go free.

Pippin introduced the other two to the farmer. 'Mr. Frodo Baggins,' he said. 'You may not remember him, but he used to live at Brandy Hall.' At the name Baggins the farmer started, and gave Frodo a sharp glance. For a moment Frodo thought that the memory of stolen mushrooms had been aroused, and that the dogs would be told to see him off. But Farmer Maggot took him by the arm.

'Well, if that isn't queerer than ever?' he exclaimed. 'Mr. Baggins is it? Come inside! We must have a talk.'

They went into the farmer's kitchen, and sat by the wide fire-place. Mrs. Maggot brought out beer in a huge jug, and filled four large mugs. It was a good brew, and Pippin found himself more than compensated for missing the Golden Perch. Sam sipped his beer suspiciously. He had a natural mistrust of the inhabitants of other parts of the Shire; and also he was not disposed to be quick friends with anyone who had beaten his master, however long ago.

After a few remarks about the weather and the agricultural prospects (which were no worse than usual), Farmer Maggot put down his mug and looked at them all in turn.

'Now, Mr. Peregrin,' he said, 'where might you be coming from, and where might you be going to? Were you coming to visit' me? For, if so, you had gone past my gate without my seeing you.'

'Well, no,' answered Pippin. 'To tell you the truth, since you have guessed it, we got into the lane from the other end: we had come over your fields. But that was quite by accident. We lost our way in the woods, back near Woodhall, trying to take a short cut to the Ferry.'

'If you were in a hurry, the road would have served you better,' said the farmer. 'But I wasn't worrying about that. You have leave to walk over my land, if you have a mind, Mr. Peregrin. And you, Mr. Baggins . though I daresay you still like mushrooms.' He laughed. 'Ah yes, I recognized the name. I recollect the time when young Frodo Baggins was one of the worst young rascals of Buckland. But it wasn't mushrooms I was thinking of. I had just heard the name Baggins before you turned up. What do you think that funny customer asked me?'

They waited anxiously for him to go on. 'Well,' the farmer continued, approaching his point with slow relish, 'he came riding on a big black horse in at the gate, which happened to be open, and right up to my door. All black he was himself, too, and cloaked and hooded up, as if he did not want to be known. "Now what in the Shire can he want?" I thought to myself. We don't see many of the Big Folk over the border; and anyway I had never heard of any like this black fellow.

' "Good-day to you!" I says, going out to him. "This lane don't lead anywhere, and wherever you may be going, your quickest way will be back to the road." I didn't like the looks of him; and when Grip came out, he took one sniff and let out a yelp as if he had been slung: he put down his tail and bolted off howling. The black fellow sat quite still.

' "I come from yonder," he said, slow and stiff-like, pointing back west, over my fields, if you please. "Have you seen Baggins?" he asked in a queer voice, and bent down towards me. I could not see any face, for his hood fell down so low; and I felt a sort of shiver down my back. But I did not see why he should come riding over my land so bold.

' "Be off!" I said. "There are no Bagginses here. You're in the wrong part of the Shire. You had better go back west to Hobbiton . but you can go by road this time."

' "Baggins has left," he answered in a whisper. "He is coming. He is not far away. I wish to find him. If he passes will you tell me? I will come back with gold."

' "No you won't," I said. "You'll go back where you belong, double quick. I give you one minute before I call all my dogs."

'He gave a sort of hiss. It might have been laughing, and it might not. Then he spurred his great horse right at me, and I jumped out of the way only just in time. I called the dogs, but he swung off, and rode through the gate and up the lane towards the causeway like a bolt of thunder. What do you think of that?'

Frodo sat for a moment looking at the fire, but his only thought was how on earth would they reach the Ferry. 'I don't know what to think,' he said at last.

'Then I'll tell you what to think,' said Maggot. 'You should never have gone mixing yourself up with Hobbiton folk, Mr. Frodo. Folk are queer up there.' Sam stirred in his chair, and looked at the farmer with an unfriendly eye. 'But you were always a reckless lad. When I heard you had left the Brandybucks and gone off to that old Mr. Bilbo, I said that you were going to find trouble. Mark my words, this all comes of those strange doings of Mr. Bilbo's. His money was got in some strange fashion in foreign parts, they say. Maybe there is some that want to know what has become of the gold and jewels that he buried in the hill of Hobbiton, as I hear?'

Frodo said nothing: the shrewd guesses of the farmer were rather disconcerting.

'Well, Mr. Frodo,' Maggot went on, 'I'm glad that you've had the sense to come back to Buckland. My advice is: stay there! And don't get mixed up with these outlandish folk. You'll have friends in these parts. If any of these black fellows come after you again, I'll deal with them. I'll say you're dead, or have left the Shire, or anything you like. And that might be true enough; for as like as not it is old Mr. Bilbo they want news of.'

'Maybe you're right,' said Frodo, avoiding the farmer's eye and staring at the fire.

Maggot looked at him thoughtfully. 'Well, I see you have ideas of your own,' he said. 'It is as plain as my nose that no accident brought you and that rider here on the same afternoon; and maybe my news was no great news to you, after all. I am not asking you to tell me anything you have a mind to keep to yourself; but I see you are in some kind of trouble. Perhaps you are thinking it won't be too easy to get to the Ferry without being caught?'

'I was thinking so,' said Frodo. 'But we have got to try and get there; and it won't be done by sitting and thinking. So I am afraid we must be going. Thank you very much indeed for your kindness! I've been in terror of you and your dogs for over thirty years, Farmer Maggot, though you may laugh to hear it. It's a pity: for I've missed a good friend. And now I'm sorry to leave so soon. But I'll come back, perhaps, one day . if I get a chance.'

'You'll be welcome when you come,' said Maggot. 'But now I've a notion. It's near sundown already, and we are going to have our supper; for we mostly go to bed soon after the Sun. If you and Mr. Peregrin and all could stay and have a bite with us, we would be pleased!'

'And so should we!' said Frodo. 'But we must be going at once, I'm afraid. Even now it will be dark before we can reach the Ferry.'

'Ah! but wait a minute! I was going to say: after a bit of supper, I'll gel out a small waggon, and I'll drive you all to the Ferry. That will save you a good step, and it might also save you trouble of another sort.'

Frodo now accepted the invitation gratefully, to the relief of Pippin and Sam. The sun was already behind the western hills, and the light was failing. Two of Maggot's sons and his three daughters came in, and a generous supper was laid on the large table. The kitchen was lit with candles and the fire was mended. Mrs. Maggot hustled in and out. One or two other hobbits belonging to the farm-household came in. In a short while fourteen sat down to eat. There was beer in plenty, and a mighty dish of mushrooms and bacon, besides much other solid farmhouse fare. The dogs lay by the fire and gnawed rinds and cracked bones.

When they had finished, the farmer and his sons went out with a lantern and got the waggon ready. It was dark in the yard, when the guests came out. They threw their packs on board and climbed in. The farmer sat in the driving- seat, and whipped up his two stout ponies. His wife stood in the light of the open door.

'You be careful of yourself. Maggot!' she called. 'Don't go arguing with any foreigners, and come straight back!'

'I will!' said he, and drove out of the gate. There was now no breath of wind stirring; the night was still and quiet, and a chill was in the air. They went without lights and took it slowly. After a mile or two the lane came to an end, crossing a deep dike, and climbing a short slope up on to the high- banked causeway.

Maggot got down and took a good look either way, north and south, but nothing could be seen in the darkness, and there was not a sound in the still air. Thin strands of river-mist were hanging above the dikes, and crawling over the fields.

'It's going to be thick,' said Maggot; 'but I'll not light my lantern till I turn for home. We'll hear anything on the road long before we meet it tonight.'

It was five miles or more from Maggot's lane to the Ferry. The hobbits wrapped themselves up, but their ears were strained for any sound above the creak of the wheels and the slow clop of the ponies' hoofs. The waggon seemed slower than a snail to Frodo. Beside him Pippin was nodding towards sleep; but Sam was staring forwards into the rising fog.

They reached the entrance to the Ferry lane at last. It was marked by two tall white posts that suddenly loomed up on their right. Farmer Maggot drew in his ponies and the waggon creaked to a halt. They were just beginning lo scramble out, when suddenly they heard what they had all been dreading: hoofs on the road ahead. The sound was coming towards them.

Maggot jumped down and stood holding the ponies' heads, and peering forward into the gloom. Clip-clop, clip-clop came the approaching rider. The fall of the hoofs sounded loud in the still, foggy air.

'You'd better be hidden, Mr. Frodo,' said Sam anxiously. 'You get down in the waggon and cover up with blankets, and we'll send this rider to the rightabouts!' He climbed out and went to the farmer's side. Black Riders would have to ride over him to get near the waggon.

Clop-clop, clop-clop. The rider was nearly on them.

'Hallo there!' called Farmer Maggot. The advancing hoofs stopped short. They thought they could dimly guess a dark cloaked shape in the mist, a yard or two ahead. 'Now then!' said the farmer, throwing the reins to Sam and striding forward. 'Don't you come a step nearer! What do you want, and where are you going?'

'I want Mr. Baggins. Have you seen him?' said a muffled voice . but the voice was the voice of Merry Brandybuck. A dark lantern was uncovered, and its light fell on the astonished face of the farmer.

'Mr. Merry!' he cried.

'Yes, of course! Who did you think it was?' said Merry coming forward. As he came out of the mist and their fears subsided, he seemed suddenly to diminish to ordinary hobbit-size. He was riding a pony, and a scarf was swathed round his neck and over his chin to keep out the fog.

Frodo sprang out of the waggon to greet him. 'So there you are at last!' said Merry. 'I was beginning to wonder if you would turn up at all today, and I was just going back to supper. When it grew foggy I came across and rode up towards Stock to see if you had fallen in any ditches. But I'm blest if I know which way you have come. Where did you find them, Mr. Maggot? In your duck- pond?'

'No, I caught 'em trespassing,' said the farmer, 'and nearly set my dogs on 'em; but they'll tell you all the story, I've no doubt. Now, if you'll excuse me, Mr. Merry and Mr. Frodo and all, I'd best be turning for home. Mrs. Maggot will be worriting with the night getting thick.'

He backed the waggon into the lane and turned it. 'Well, good night to you all,' he said. 'It's been a queer day, and no mistake. But all's well as ends well; though perhaps we should not say that until we reach our own doors. I'll not deny that I'll be glad now when I do.' He lit his lanterns, and got up. Suddenly he produced a large basket from under the seat. 'I was nearly forgetting,' he said. 'Mrs. Maggot put this up for Mr. Baggins, with her compliments.' He handed it down and moved off, followed by a chorus of thanks and good-nights.

They watched the pale rings of light round his lanterns as they dwindled into the foggy night. Suddenly Frodo laughed: from the covered basket he held, the scent of mushrooms was rising.

_________________
The Flesh of Fallen Angels! Come to me all! Asteroth,

Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Bapholada, Lucifer, Loki, Satan,

Cthulhu, Lilith, Della! Blood, to you all!

I'm the wolf, yeah!
I am the wolf! It's close, it's coming. You have come.
The witness to the end, of time. It's now! I will rise to
her side! I don't need the words!
I'm beyond the words!
Image

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Post Re: POST, POST LIKE YOU NEVER POSTED BEFORE!
EL HOBBIT

J.R.R. TOLKIEN



l>M-NF&m
l>MKM-F-tM.WWvl*Xm

Esta es una historia de hace mucho tiempo. En esa epoca los lenguajes eran
bastante distintos de los de hoy... Las runas eran letras que en un principio se
escribian mediante cortes o incisiones en madera, piedra, o metal. En los dias de
este relato los Enanos las utilizaban con regularidad, especialmente en registros
privados o secretos. Si las runas del Mapa de Thror son comparadas con las
transcripciones en letras modernas, no sera dificil reconstruir el alfabeto (adaptado
al ingles actual), y sera posible leer el titulo runico de esta pagina. Desde un
margen del mapa una mano apunta a la puerta secreta, y debajo esta escrito:



Las dos ultimas runas son las iniciales de Thror y Thrain. Las runas lunares leidas
por Elrond eran:



N-t>M-ilMTTISiiri*-rit>4>M-rRilT-riXHT-FF-MhRltH.MI%

nrr»>tHitM.rii:p+4'M*hMteNF : rM*

En el Mapa los puntos cardinales estan sehalados con runas, con el Este arriba,
como es comun en los mapas de enanos y han de leerse en el sentido de las
manecillas de reloj: Este, Sur, Oeste, Norte.



UNA TERTULIA INESPERADA

En un agujero en el suelo, vivia un hobbit. No un agujero humedo, sucio,
repugnante, con restos de gusanos y olor a fango, ni tampoco un agujero seco,
desnudo y arenoso, sin nada en que sentarse o que comer: era un agujero-hobbit,
y eso significa comodidad.

Tenia una puerta redonda, perfecta como un ojo de buey, pintada de verde, con
una manilla de bronce dorada y brillante, justo en el medio. La puerta se abria a un
vestibulo cilindrico, como un tunel: un tunel muy comodo, sin numos, con paredes
revestidas de madera y suelos enlosados y alfombrados, provisto de sillas
barnizadas, y montones y montones de perchas para sombreros y abrigos; el
hobbit era aficionado a las visitas. El tunel se extendia serpeando, y penetraba
bastante, pero no directamente, en la ladera de la colina — La Colina, como la
llamaba toda la gente de muchas millas alrededor — , y muchas puertecitas
redondas se abrian en el, primero a un lado y luego al otro. Nada de subir
escaleras para el hobbit: dormitorios, cuartos de baho, bodegas, despensas
(muchas), armarios (habitaciones enteras dedicadas a ropa), cocinas. Comedores,
se encontraban en la misma planta, y en verdad en el mismo pasillo. Las mejores
habitaciones estaban todas a la izquierda de la puerta principal, pues eran las
unicas que tenian ventanas, ventanas redondas, profundamente excavadas, que
miraban al jardin y los prados de mas alia, camino del no.

Este hobbit era un hobbit acomodado, y se apellidaba Bolson. Los Bolson habian
vivido en las cercanias de La Colina desde hacia muchisimo tiempo, y la gente los
consideraba muy respetables, no solo porque casi todos eran ricos, sino tambien
porque nunca tenian ninguna aventura ni hacian algo inesperado: uno podia saber
lo que diria un Bolson acerca de cualquier asunto sin necesidad de preguntarselo.
Esta es la historia de como un Bolson tuvo una aventura, y se encontro a si mismo
haciendo y diciendo cosas por completo inesperadas. Podria haber perdido el
respeto de los vecinos, pero gano... Bueno, ya vereis si al final gano algo.

La madre de nuestro hobbit particular... pero, ^que es un hobbit? Supongo que los
hobbits necesitan hoy que se los describa de algun modo, ya que se volvieron
bastante raros y timidos con la Gente Grande, como nos llaman. Son (o fueron)
gente menuda de la mitad de nuestra talla, y mas pequehos que los enanos
barbados. Los hobbits no tienen barba. Hay poca o ninguna magia en ellos,
excepto esa comun y cotidiana que los ayuda a desaparecer en silencio y
rapidamente, cuando gente grande y estupida como vosotros o yo se acerca sin
mirar por donde va, con un ruido de elefantes que puede oirse a una milla de
distancia. Tienden a ser gruesos de vientre; visten de colores brillantes (sobre todo
verde y amarillo); no usan zapatos, porque en los pies tienen suelas naturales de
piel y un pelo espeso y tibio de color castaho, como el que les crece en las
cabezas (que es rizado); los dedos son largos, mahosos y morenos, los rostros
afables, y se rien con profundas y jugosas risas (especialmente despues de cenar,
lo que hacen dos veces al dia, cuando pueden). Ahora sabeis lo suficiente como
para continuar el relate Como iba diciendo, la madre de este hobbit — o sea, Bilbo
Bolson — era la famosa Belladonna Tuk, una de las tres extraordinarias hijas del
Viejo Tuk, patriarca de los hobbits que vivian al otro lado de Delagua, el riachuelo



que coma al pie de La Colina. Se decia a menudo (en otras familias) que tiempo
atras un antepasado de los Tuk se habia casado sin duda con un hada. Eso era,
desde luego, absurdo, pero por cierto habia todavia algo no del todo hobbit en
ellos, y de cuando en cuando miembros del clan Tuk salian a correr aventuras.

Desaparecian con discretion, y la familia echaba tierra sobre el asunto; pero los
Tuk no eran tan respetables como los Bolson, aunque indudablemente mas ricos.

Al menos Belladonna Tuk no habia tenido ninguna aventura despues de
convertirse en la sehora de Bungo Bolson. Bungo, el padre de Bilbo, le construyo
el agujero — hobbit mas lujoso (en parte con el dinero de ella), que pudiera
encontrarse bajo La Colina o sobre La Colina o al otro lado de Delagua, y alii se
quedaron hasta el fin. No obstante, es probable que Bilbo, hijo unico, aunque se
parecia y se comportaba exactamente como una segunda edition de su padre,
firme y comodon, tuviese alguna rareza de caracter del lado de los Tuk, algo que
solo esperaba una ocasion para salir a la luz. La ocasion no llego a presentarse
nunca, hasta que Bilbo Bolson fue un adulto que rondaba los cincuenta ahos y
vivia en el hermoso agujero-hobbit que acabo de describiros, y cuando en verdad
ya parecia que se habia asentado alii para siempre.

Por alguna curiosa coincidencia, una mahana de hace tiempo en la quietud del
mundo, cuando habia menos ruido y mas verdor, y los hobbits eran todavia
numerosos y prosperos, y Bilbo Bolson estaba de pie en la puerta del agujero,
despues del desayuno, fumando una enorme y larga pipa de madera que casi le
llegaba a los dedos lanudos de los pies (bien cepillados), Gandalf aparecio de
pronto. jGandalf! Si solo hubieseis oido un cuarto de lo que yo he oido de el, y he
oido solo muy poco de todo lo que hay que oir, estariais preparados para
cualquier especie de cuento notable — Cuentos y aventuras brotaban por donde
quiera que pasara, de la forma mas extraordinaria. No habia bajado a aquel
camina al pie de La Colina desde hacia ahos y ahos, desde la muerte de su amigo
el Viejo Tuk, y los hobbits casi habian olvidado como era. Habia estado lejos, mas
alia de La Colina y del otro lado de Delagua por asuntos particulares, desde el
tiempo en que todos ellos eran pequehos nihos hobbits y nihas hobbits.

Todo lo que el confiado Bilbo vio aquella mahana fue un anciano con un baston.
Tenia un sombrero azul, alto y puntiagudo, una larga capa gris, una bufanda de
plata sobre la que colgaba una barba larga y blanca hasta mas abajo de la cintura,
y botas negras.

— i Buenos dias! — dijo Bilbo, y esto era exactamente lo que queria decir. El sol
brillaba y la hierba estaba muy verde. Pero Gandalf lo miro desde debajo de las
cejas largas y espesas, mas sobresalientes que el ala del sombrero, que le
ensombrecia la cara.

— ^Que quieres decir? — pregunto — <j,Me deseas un buen dia, o quieres decir
que es un buen dia, lo quiera yo o no; o que hoy te sientes bien; o que es un dia
en que conviene ser bueno? — Todo eso a la vez — dijo Bilbo — . Y un dia
estupendo para una pipa de tabaco a la puerta de casa, ademas. jSi llevais una
pipa encima, sentaos y tomad un poco de mi tabaco! jNo hay prisa, tenemos todo
el dia por delante! — entonces Bilbo se sento en una silla junto a la puerta, cruzo



las piernas, y lanzo un hermoso anillo de humo gris que navego en el aire sin
romperse, y se alejo flotando sobre La Colina.

— jMuy bonito! — dijo Gandalf — Pero esta manana no tengo tiempo para anillos de
humo. Busco a alguien con quien compartir una aventura que estoy planeando, y
es dificil dar con el.

— Pienso lo mismo... En estos lugares somos gente sencilla y tranquila y no
estamos acostumbrados a las aventuras. jCosas desagradables, molestas e
incomodas que retrasan la cena! No me explico por que atraen a la gente — dijo
nuestro sehor Bolson, y metiendo un pulgar detras del tirante lanzo otro anillo de
humo mas grande aun. Luego saco el correo matutino v se puso a leer, fingiendo
ignorar al viejo, Pero el viejo no se movio. Permanecio apoyado en el baston
observando al hobbit sin decir nada, hasta que Bilbo se sintio bastante incomodo y
aun un poco enfadado.

— jBuenos dias! — dijo al fin — . jNo queremos aventuras aqui, gracias! <j,Por que
no probais mas alia de La Colina o al otro lado de Delagua? — Con esto daba a
entender que la conversation habia terminado.

— jPara cuantas cosas empleas el Buenas dias!, — dijo Gandalf — . Ahora quieres
decir que intentas deshacerte de mi y que no seran buenos hasta que me vaya.

— jDe ningun modo, de ningun modo, mi querido sehor! — . Veamos, no creo
conocer vuestro nombre...

— jSi, si, mi querido sehor, y yo si que conozco tu nombre, sehor Bilbo Bolson! Y
tu tambien sabes el mio, aunque no me unas a el. jYo soy Gandalf, y Gandalf soy
yo! jQuien iba a pensar que un hijo de Belladonna Tuk me daria los buenos dias
como si yo fuese vendiendo botonungido;
este era el miercoles mas desagradable que pudiera recordar. Abrio la puerta de
un bandazo, y todos rodaron dentro, uno sobre otro. Mas enanos, jcuatro mas! Y
detras Gandalf, apoyado en su vara y riendo. Habia hecho una muesca bastante
grande en la hermosa puerta; por cierto, tambien habia borrado la marca secreta
que pusiera alii la mahana anterior.

— jTranquilidad, tranquilidad! — dijo — . jNo es propio de ti, Bilbo, tener a los
amigos esperando en el felpudo y luego abrir la puerta de sopeton! jDejame
presentarte a Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, y sobre todo a Thorin!

— jA vuestro servicio! — dijeron Bifur, Bofur y Bombur los tres en hilera. En seguida
colgaron dos capuchones amarillos y uno verde palido; y tambien uno celeste con
una gran borla de plata. Este ultimo pertenecia a Thorin, un enorme e importante
enano, de hecho nada mas y nada menos que el propio Thorin Escudo de Roble,
a quien no le gusto nada caer de bruces sobre el felpudo de Bilbo con Bifur, Bofur
y Bombur sobre el. Ante todo, Bombur era enormemente gordo y pesado. Thorin
era muy arrogante, y no dijo nada sobre servicio; pero el pobre sehor Bolson le
repitio tantas veces que lo sentia, que el enano gruho al fin: — Le ruego no lo
mencione mas — y dejo de fruncir el ceho.

— jVaya, ya estamos todos aqui! — dijo Gandalf, mirando la hilera de trece
capuchones, una muy vistosa coleccion de capuchones, y su propio sombrero
colgados en las perchas — . jQue alegre reunion! jEspero que quede algo de



comer y beber para los rezagados! ^Que es eso? jTe! jNo, gracias! Para mi un
poco de vino tinto.

— Y tambien yo — dijo Thorin.

— Y mermelada de frambuesa y tarta de manzana — dijo Bifur.

— Y pastelillos de carne y queso — dijo Bofur.

— Y pastel de carne de cerdo y tambien ensalada — dijo Bombur.

— Y mas pasteles, y cerveza, y cafe, si no os importa — gritaron los otros enanos al
otro lado de la puerta.

— Prepara unos pocos huevos. jQue gran amigo! — grito Gandalf mientras el hobbit
coma a las despensas. jY saca el polio frio y unos encurtidos!

"jParece conocer el interior de mi despensa tanto como yo!" penso el senor
Bolson, que se sentia del todo desconcertado y empezaba a preguntarse si la mas
lamentable aventura no habia ido a caer justo a su propia casa. Cuando termino
de apilar las botellas y los platos y los cuchillos y los tenedores y los vasos y las
fuentes y las cucharas y demas cosas en grandes bandejas, estaba acalorado,
rojo como la grana y muy fastidiado.

— jMalditos y condenados enanos! — dijo en voz alta — ^Por que no vienen y me

echan una mano? Y he aqui que alii estaban Balin y Dwalin en la puerta de la

cocina, y Fili y Kili tras ellos, y antes de que pudiese decir cuchillo, ya se habian
llevado a toda prisa las bandejas y un par de mesas pequehas al salon, y alii
colocaron todo otra vez.

Gandalf se puso a la cabecera, con los trece enanos alrededor, y Bilbo se sento
en un taburete junto al fuego, mordisqueando una galleta (habia perdido el apetito)
e intentando aparentar que todo era normal y de ningun modo una aventura. Los
enanos comieron y comieron, charlaron y charlaron, y el tiempo paso. Por ultimo
echaron atras las sillas, y Bilbo se puso en movimiento, recogiendo platos y vasos.

— Supongo que os quedareis todos a cenar — dijo en uno de sus mas educados y
reposados tonos.

— jClaro que si! — dijo Thorin — y despues tambien. No nos meteremos en el
asunto hasta mas tarde, y antes podemos hacer un poco de musica. jAhora a
levantar las mesas!

En seguida los doce enanos — no Thorin, el era demasiado importante, y se quedo
charlando con Gandalf — se incorporaron de un salto, e hicieron enormes pilas con
todas las cosas. Alia se fueron, sin esperar por las bandejas, llevando en equilibrio
en una mano las columnas de platos, cada una de ellas con una botella encima,
mientras el hobbit coma detras casi dando chillidos de miedo: — jPor favor,
cuidado! — y — jPor favor, no se molesten! Yo me las arreglo — . Pero los enanos
no le hicieron caso y se pusieron a cantar:

jDesportillad los vasos y destrozad los platos!

jEmbotad los cuchillos, doblad los tenedores!



jEsto es lo que Bilbo Bolson detesta tanto!
jEstrellad las botellas y quemad los tapones!

jDesgarrad el mantel, pisotead la manteca,
y derramad la leche en la despensa!
jEchad los huesos en la alfombra del cuarto!
jSalpicad de vino todas las puertas!

jVaciad los cacharros en un caldero hirviente;
hacedlos trizas, a barrotazos;
y cuando termineis, si aun algo queda entero,
echadlo a rodar pasillo abajo!

jEsto es lo que Bilbo Bolson detesta tanto!
jDe modo que cuidado! jCuidado con los platos!



Y desde luego no hicieron ninguna de estas cosas terribles, y todo se limpio y se
guardo a la velocidad del rayo, mientras el hobbit daba vueltas y mas vueltas en
medio de la cocina intentando ver que hacfan. Al fin regresaron, y encontraron a
Thorin con los pies en el guardafuego fumandose una pipa. Estaba haciendo unos
enormes anillos de humo, y dondequiera que le dijera a uno que fuese, alii iba —
chimenea arriba, o detras del reloj sobre la repisa, o bajo la mesa, o girando y
girando en el techo — , pero dondequiera que fuesen no eran bastante rapidos para
escapar a Gandalf. jPop! De la pipa de barro de Gandalf subia en seguida un
anillo mas pequeno que atravesaba el ultimo anillo de Thorin. Luego el anillo de
Gandalf tomaba un color verde, y bajaba a flotar sobre la cabeza del mago. Tenia
ya toda una nube alrededor, y a la luz indistinta parecia una figura extraha y
fantasmagorica. Bilbo permanecia inmovil y observaba — le encantaban los anillos
de humo — y se sonrojo al recordar que orgulloso habia estado de los anillos que
en la mahana anterior lanzara al viento sobre La Colina.

— jAhora un poco de musical — dijo Thorin — . jSacad los instrumentos!

Kili y Fili se apresuraron a buscar las bolsas y trajeron unos pequehos violines;
Dori, Nori y Oh sacaron unas flautas de algun bolsillo de los capotes; Bombur
tamborileo desde el vestibulo; Bifur y Bofur salieron tambien, y volvieron con unos
clarinetes que habian dejado entre los bastones. Dwalin y Balin dijeron:

— jDisculpadme, deje el mio en el porche! — Y Thorin dijo: — jTrae el mio tambien!
— Regresaron con unas violas tan grandes como ellos mismos, y con el arpa de
Thorin envuelta en una tela verde. Era una hermosa arpa dorada, y cuando Thorin



la rasgueo, los otros enanos empezaron juntos a tocar una musica, tan subita y
dulcemente que Bilbo olvido todo lo demas, y fue transportado a unas tierras
distantes y oscuras, bajo lunas extranas, lejos de Delagua y muy lejos del
agujero — hobbit bajo La Colina.

La oscuridad penetro en la habitacion por el ventanuco que se abria en la ladera
de La Colina; el fuego parpadeaba — era abril — y aun seguian tocando, mientras
la sombra de la barba de Gandalf danzaba contra la pared.

La oscuridad invadio toda la habitacion, y el fuego se extinguio y las sombras se
borraron; y todavia seguian tocando. Y de pronto, uno primero y luego otro,
mientras tocaban, entonaron el canto grave que antaho cantaran los enanos, en lo
mas hondo de las viejas moradas, y estas lineas son como un fragmento de esa
cancion, aunque no hay comparacion posible sin la musica.

Mas alia de las Mas y brumosas montahas,
a mazmorras profundas y cavernas antiguas,
en busca del metal amarillo encantado,
hemos de ir, antes que el dia nazca.

Los enanos echaban hechizos poderosos
mientras las mazas tahfan como campanas,
en simas donde duermen criaturas sombrias,
en salas huecas bajo las montahas.

Para el antiguo rey y el sehor de los Elfos
los enanos labraban martilleando
un tesoro dorado, y la luz atrapaban
y en gemas la escondian en la espada.

En collares de plata ponian y engarzaban
estrellas florecientes, el fuego del dragon
colgaban en coronas, en metal retorcido
entretejian la luz de la luna y del sol.

Mas alia de las Mas y brumosas montahas,
a mazmorras profundas y cavernas antiguas



10



a reclamar el oro hace tiempo olvidado,
hemos de ir, antes que el dia nazca.

Alii para ellos mismos labraban las vasijas
y las arpas de oro; pasaban mucho tiempo
donde otros no cavaban; y alii muchas canciones
cantaron que los hombres o los Elfos no oyeron.

Los vientos ululaban en medio de la noche,
y los pinos rugian en la cima.
El fuego era rojo, y llameaba extendiendose,
los arboles como antorchas de luz resplandecfan.

Las campanas tocaban en el valle,
y hombres de cara palida observaban el cielo,
la ira del dragon, mas violenta que el fuego,
derribaba las torres y las casas.

La montaha humeaba a la luz de la luna;
los enanos oyeron los pasos del destino,
huyeron y cayeron y fueron a morir
a los pies del palacio, a la luz de la luna.

Mas alia de las hoscas y brumosas montahas,
a mazmorras profundas y cavernas antiguas
a quitarle nuestro oro y las arpas,
jhemos de ir, antes que el dia nazca!



Mientras cantaban, el hobbit sintio dentro de el el amor de las cosas hermosas
hechas a mano con ingenio y magia; un amor fiero y celoso, el deseo de los
corazones de los enanos. Entonces algo de los Tuk renacio en el: deseo salir y ver
las montahas enormes, y oir los pinos y las cascadas, y explorar las cavernas, y
llevar una espada en vez de un baston. Miro por la ventana. Las estrellas
asomaban fuera en el cielo oscuro, sobre los arboles. Penso en las joyas de los



11



enanos que brillaban en las cavernas tenebrosas. De repente, en el bosque de
mas alia de Delagua se alzo un fuego, — quiza alguien encendia una hoguera — y
penso en dragones devastadores que invadian la pacifica Colina envolviendo todo
en llamas. Se estremecio; y en seguida volvio a ser el sencillo sehor Bolson, de
Bolson Cerrado, Sotomonte otra vez.

Se incorporo temblando. Tenia muy pocas ganas de traer la lampara, y apenas un
poco mas de pretender que iba a buscarla y marcharse y esconderse luego en la
bodega detras de los barriles de cerveza y no salir mas hasta que los enanos se
fueran. De pronto advirtio que la musica y el canto habian cesado y que todos lo
miraban con ojos brillantes en la oscuridad.

— ^Adonde vas? — le pregunto Thorin, en un tono que parecia querer mostrar que
adivinaba los pensamientos contradictorios del hobbit.

— <j,Que os parece un poco de luz? — dijo Bilbo disculpandose.

— Nos gusta la oscuridad — dijeron todos los enanos — . jOscuridad para asuntos
oscuros! Faltan aun muchas horas hasta el alba.

— jPor supuesto! — dijo Bilbo, y volvio a sentarse a toda prisa. No le acerto al
taburete y se sento en cambio en el guardafuegos, derribando con estrepito el
atizador y la pala.

— jSilencio! — dijo Gandalf — . jQue hable Thorin! — Y asi fue como Thorin empezo.

— jGandalf, enanos y sehor Bolson! Nos hemos reunido en casa de nuestro amigo
y compahero conspirador, este hobbit de lo mas excelente y audaz. jQue nunca se
le caiga el pelo de los pies! jToda nuestra alabanza al vino y la cerveza de la
region! — Se detuvo a tomar un respiro y a esperar una cortes observation del
hobbit, pero al pobre Bilbo se le habian agotado las cortesias, y movia la boca
tratando de protestar porque lo habian llamado audaz, y peor que eso, compahero
conspirador aunque no emitio ningun sonido; se sentia de veras estupefacto. De
modo que Thorin continuo:

— Nos hemos reunido aqui para discutir nuestros planes, medios, politica y
recursos. Emprenderemos ese largo viaje poco antes que rompa el dia, un viaje
que para algunos de nosotros, o quiza para todos (excepto para nuestro amigo y
consejero, el ingenioso mago Gandalf) quiza sea un viaje sin retorno. Este es un
momento solemne. Nuestro objetivo, supongo, todos lo conocemos bien. Para el
estimable sehor Bolson, y quiza para uno o dos de los enanos mas jovenes (creo
que acertaria si nombrara a Kili y a Fili, por. Ejemplo), la situation exacta y actual
podria necesitar de una breve explication...

Este era el estilo de Thorin. Era un enano importante. Si se lo hubieran permitido,
quiza habria seguido asi hasta quedarse sin aliento, sin dejar de decir a cada uno
algo ya sabido. Pero lo interrumpieron de mal modo. El pobre Bilbo no pudo
soportarlo mas. Cuando oyo quiza sea un viaje sin retorno empezo a sentir que un
chillido le subia desde dentro, y muy pronto estallo como el silbido de una
locomotora a la salida de un tunel. Todos los enanos se pusieron en pie de un
salto derribando la mesa. Gandalf golpeo el extremo de la vara magica que emitio
una luz azul, y en el resplandor se pudo ver al pobre hobbit de rodillas sobre la



12



alfombra junto al hogar, temblando como una gelatina que se derrite. En seguida
cayo de bruces al suelo, y se puso a gritar: — jAlcanzado por un rayo, alcanzado
por un rayo! — una y otra vez, y eso fue todo lo que pudieron sacarle durante largo
tiempo. Asi que lo levantaron y lo tumbaron en un sofa de la sala, con un trago a
mano, y volvieron a sus oscuros asuntos.

— Excitable el companerito — dijo Gandalf, mientras se sentaban de nuevo — .
Tiene extranos y graciosos ataques, pero es uno de los mejores: tan fiero como un
dragon en apuros.

Si habeis visto alguna vez un dragon en apuros, comprendereis que esto solo
podia ser una exageracion poetica aplicada a cualquier, hobbit, aun a Toro
Bramador, el tio bisabuelo del Viejo Tuk, tan enorme (como hobbit) que hasta
podia montar a caballo. En la batalla de los Campos Verdes habia cargado contra
las filas de trasgos del Monte Gram, y blandiendo una porra de madera le arranco
de cuajo la cabeza al rey Golfimbul. La cabeza salio disparada unas cien yardas
por el aire y fue a dar a la madriguera de un conejo, y de esta forma, y a la vez, se
gano la batalla y se invento el juego de golf.

Mientras tanto, sin embargo, el mas gentil descendiente de Toro Bramador volvia
a la vida en la sala de estar. Al cabo de un rato y luego de un trago se arrastro
nervioso hacia la puerta. Esto fue lo que oyo; hablaba Gloin: — jHum! — o un
bufido semejante — . ^Creeis que servira? Esta muy bien que Gandalf diga que
este hobbit es fiero, pero un chillido como ese en un momento de excitacion
bastaria para despertar al dragon y al resto de la parentela, y matamos a todos.
jCreo que sonaba mas a miedo que a excitacion! En verdad, si no fuese por la
sehal en la puerta, juraria que habiamos venido a una casa equivocada. Tan
pronto como eche una ojeada a ese pequehajo que se sacudia y resoplaba sobre
el felpudo, tuve mis dudas. jMas parece un tendero que un saqueador!

En ese momento el sehor Bolson abrio la puerta y entro. La vena Tuk habia
ganado. De pronto sintio que si se quedaba sin cama ni desayuno podria parecer
realmente fiero. En cuanto al pequehajo que se sacudia sobre el felpudo casi le
hizo perder la cabeza. Mas tarde, y a menudo, la parte Bolson se lamentaria de lo
que hizo entonces, y se diria: — Bilbo, fuiste un tonto; te decidiste a entrar y
metiste la pata.

— Perdonadme — dijo — , si por casualidad he oido lo que estabais diciendo. No
pretendo entender lo que hablais, ni esa referenda a saqueadores, pero no creo
equivocarme si digo que sospechais que no sirvo — esto es lo que el llamaba no
perder la dignidad — . Lo demostrare. No hay sehal alguna en mi puerta, se pinto la
semana anterior, y estoy seguro de que habeis venido a la casa equivocada.
Desde el momento en que vi vuestras extrahas caras en el umbral tuve mis dudas.
Pero considerad que es la casa correcta. Decidme lo que quereis que haga y lo
intentare, aunque tuviera que ir desde aqui hasta el Este del Este y luchar con los
hombres gusanos del Ultimo Desierto. Tuve, una vez, un tio architatarabuelo, Toro
Bramador Tuk, y...

— Si, si, pero eso fue hace mucho — dijo Gloin — Estaba hablando de vos. Y os
aseguro que hay una marca en esta puerta: la normal en el negocio, o la que



13



hasta hace poco era normal. Saqueador nocturno busca un buen trabajo, con
mucha Excitacion y Remuneration razonable, asi es como todo el mundo la
entiende. Podeis decir Buscador Experto de Tesoros en vez de saqueador si lo
preferfs. Algunos lo hacen. Para nosotros es lo mismo. Gandalf nos dijo que habia
un hombre de esas caracteristicas por estos lugares, que buscaba un trabajo
inmediato, y que habian concertado una cita este miercoles, aqui y a la hora del
te.

— Claro que hay una marca — dijo Gandalf — . La puse yo mismo. Por muy buenas
razones. Me pedisteis que encontrara al hombre catorceavo para vuestra
expedition, y elegi al sehor Bilbo. Basta que alguien diga que elegi al hombre o la
casa equivocada y podeis quedaros en trece y tener toda la mala suerte que
querais, o volver a picar carbon.

Clavo la mirada con tal ira en Gloin que el enano se acurruco en la silla; y cuando
Bilbo intento abrir la boca para hacer una pregunta, se volvio hacia el con el ceho
fruncido, adelantando las cejas espesas, hasta que el hobbit cerro la boca de
golpe. — Esta bien — dijo Gandalf — . No discutamos mas. He elegido al sehor
Bolson y eso tendria que bastar a todos. Si digo que es un saqueador nocturno, lo
es de veras, o lo sera llegado el momento. Hay mucho mas en el de lo que
imaginais y mucho mas de lo que el mismo se imagina. Tal vez (posiblemente)
aun vivais todos para agradecermelo. Ahora Bilbo, muchacho, jvete a buscar la
lampara y pongamos un poco de luz a todo esto!

Sobre la mesa, a la luz de una gran lampara de pantalla roja, Gandalf extendio un
trozo de pergamino bastante parecido a un mapa *.

— Esto lo hizo Thror, tu abuelo, Thorin — dijo respondiendo a las excitadas
preguntas de los enanos — Es un piano de la Montana.

— No creo que nos sea de gran ayuda — dijo Thorin desilusionado, tras echar un
vistazo — . Recuerdo la Montana muy bien, asi como las tierras que hay por alii. Y
se donde esta el Bosque Negro, y el Brezal Marchito, donde se crian los grandes
dragones.

— Hay un dragon sehalado en rojo sobre la Montana

— dijo Balin — , pero sera bastante facil encontrarlo sin eso, si alguna vez llegamos
alii.

— Hay tambien un punto que no habeis advertido

— dijo el mago — , y es la entrada secreta ^Veis esa runa en el lado oeste, y la
mano que apunta hacia ella desde las otras runas? Eso indica un pasadizo oculto
a los Salones

Inferiores. — Mirad el mapa al principio de este libro, y alii vereis las runas.

— Puede que en otra epoca fuese secreto — dijo Thorin — , pero ^como sabremos
si todavia lo es? El Viejo Smaug ha vivido alii mucho tiempo y ha de conocer bien
esas cuevas.

— Tal ver... pero no pudo haberlo utilizado desde hace ahos y ahos.



14



— <^Por que?

— Porque es demasiado pequeno. Cinco pies de altura y tres pasan con holgura,
dicen las runas, pero Smaug no podria arrastrarse por un agujero de ese tamano,
ni siquiera cuando era un dragon joven, y menos despues de haber devorado
tantos enanos y hombres de Valle.

— Pues a mi me parece un agujero bastante grande — chillo Bilbo que nada sabia
de dragones, y en cuanto a agujeros solo conocia los de los hobbits. Se sentia
otra vez excitado e interesado, y olvido mantener la boca cerrada. Le encantaban
los mapas, y en el vestibulo colgaba uno enorme del Pais Redondo con todos sus
caminos favoritos marcados en tinta roja — , ^Como una puerta tan grande pudo
haber sido un secreto para todo el mundo, aun sin contar al dragon? — pregunto.
Recordad que era solo un pequeno hobbit.

— De muchos modos — dijo Gandalf — . Pero como ha quedado oculta, no lo
sabremos sin antes ir a mirar. Por lo que dice el mapa me imagino que hay una
puerta cerrada que no se distingue del resto de la ladera. El metodo comun entre
los enanos, <j,no es cieno?

— Muy cierto — dijo Thorin.

— Ademas — prosiguio Gandalf — , olvide mencionar que con el mapa venia una
Nave, una Nave pequeha y rara. jHela aqui! — dijo, y dio a Thorin una Nave de
plata, larga, de dientes intrincados — . jGuardala bien!

— Asi lo hare — dijo Thorin, y la engancho en una cadenilla que le colgaba del
cuello bajo la chaqueta — . Ahora las cosas parecen mas prometedoras. Estas
noticias les dan mejor aspecto. Hasta hoy no teniamos una idea demasiado clara
de lo que podiamos hacer. Pensabamos marchar hacia el Este en silencio y con
toda la cautela posible, hasta llegar a Lago Largo. Las dificultades empezarian
despues...

— Mucho antes, si algo se de los caminos del Este — interrumpio Gandalf.

— Podrfamos subir desde alii bordeando el Rio Rapido — dijo Thorin sin prestar
atencion — , y luego hasta las ruinas de Valle, la vieja ciudad a la sombra de la
Montana. Pero a ninguno nos gustaba mucho la idea de la Puerta Principal. El no
sale justo ahi atravesando el gran risco al sur de la Montana, y de ahi sale tambien
el dragon, muy a menudo desde hace tiempo, a menos que haya cambiado de
costumbres.

— Eso no seria bueno — dijo el mago — , no sin un guerrero poderoso, o aun un
heroe. Intente conseguir uno; pero los guerreros estan todos ocupados luchando
entre ellos en tierras lejanas, y en esta vecindad los heroes son escasos, o al
menos no se los encuentra. Las espadas estan aqui casi todas embotadas, las
hachas se utilizan para cortar arboles y los escudos como cunas o cubrefuentes; y
para comodidad de todos, los dragones estan muy lejos (y de ahi que sean
legendarios). Por este motivo me dedique a merodear de noche, sobre todo desde
que recorde la existencia de una puerta lateral. Y aqui tenemos a nuestro pequeno
Bilbo Bolson, el saqueador, electo y selecto. Asi que continuemos y hagamos
planes.



15



— Muy bien — dijo Thorin — , supongamos entonces que el experto mismo nos da
alguna idea o sugerencia. — Se volvio con una cortesia burlona hacia Bilbo.

— En primer lugar me gustaria saber un poco mas del asunto — dijo Bilbo
sintiendose confuso y un poco agitado por dentro, pero bastante Tuk todavia y
decidido a seguir adelante — Me refiero al oro y al dragon, y todo eso, y como
llegar alii y a quien pertenece, etcetera, etcetera.

— jBendita sea! — dijo Thorin — , ^no tienes un mapa? <j,Y no has oido nuestro
canto? <j,Y acaso no hemos estado hablando de esto durante horas?

— Aun asi, me gustaria saberlo todo clara y llanamente — dijo Bilbo con
obstinacion, adoptando un aire de negocios (por lo comun reservado para gente
que trataba de pedirle dinero), y tratando por todos los me dios de parecer sabio,
prudente, profesional, y estar a la altura de la recomendacion de Gandalf —
Tambien me gustaria conocer los riesgos, los gastos, el tiempo requerido y la
remuneration, etcetera. — Lo que queria decir: "<j,Que sacare de esto? <j,Y
regresare con vida?".

— Oh, muy bien — dijo Thorin — Hace mucho, en tiempos de mi abuelo Thror,
nuestra familia fue expulsada del lejano Norte y vino con todos sus bienes y
herramientas a esta Montana del mapa. La habia descubierto mi lejano
antepasado, Thrain el Viejo, pero entonces abrieron minas, excavaron tuneles y
construyeron galenas y talleres mas grandes... y creo ademas que encontraron
gran cantidad de oro y tambien piedras preciosas. De cualquier modo se hicieron
inmensamente ricos, y mi abuelo fue de nuevo Rey bajo la Montana y tratado con
gran respeto por los mortales, que vivian al Sur y poco a poco se extendieron no
arriba hasta el valle al pie de la Montana. Alia, en aquellos dias, levantaron la
alegre ciudad de Valle. Los reyes mandaban buscar a nuestros herreros y
recompensar con largueza aun a los menos habiles. Los padres nos rogaban que
tomasemos a sus hijos como aprendices y nos pagaban bien, sobre todo con
provisiones, pues nosotros nunca sembrabamos, ni buscabamos comida. Aquellos
dias si que eran buenos, y aun el mas pobre tenia dinero para gastar y prestar, y
ocio para fabricar objetos hermosos solo por diversion, para no mencionar los mas
maravillosos juguetes magicos, que hoy ya no se encuentran en el mundo. Asi los
salones de mi abuelo se llenaron de armaduras, joyas, grabados y copas, y el
mercado de juguetes de Valle fue el asombro de todo el Norte.

"Sin duda eso fue lo que atrajo al dragon. Los dragones, sabeis, roban oro y joyas
a hombres, elfos y enanos dondequiera que puedan encontrarlos, y guardan el
botin mientras viven (lo que en la practica es para siempre, a menos que los
maten), y ni siquiera disfrutan de un anillo de hojalata. En realidad apenas
distinguen una pieza buena de una mala, aunque en general conocen bien el valor
que tienen en el mercado; y no son capaces de hacer nada por si mismos, ni
siquiera arreglarse una escamita suelta en la armadura que llevan. Por aquellos
dias habia muchos dragones en el Norte, y es posible que el oro empezara a
escasear alia arriba, con enanos que huian al Sur o eran asesinados, y la
devastation general y la destruction que los dragones provocaban y que iba en
aumento. Habia un gusano que era muy ambicioso, fuerte y malvado, llamado



16



Smaug. Un dia echo a volar y llego al Sur. Lo primero que oimos fue un ruido
como de un huracan que venia del norte, y los pinos en la Montana crujian y
rechinaban con el viento. Algunos de los enanos que en ese momento estabamos
fuera (yo era por fortuna uno de ellos, un muchacho apuesto y aventurero en
aquellos dias, siempre vagando por los alrededores, y eso me salvo entonces),
bien, vimos desde bastante lejos al dragon que se posaba en nuestra montaha en
un remolino de fuego. Luego bajo por las laderas, y los bosques empezaron a
arder. Ya para entonces todas las campanas repicaban en Valle y los guerreros se
armaban. Los enanos salieron corriendo por la puerta grande; pero alii estaba el
dragon esperandolos. Nadie escapo por ese lado. El no se transformo en vapor y
una niebla cayo sobre ellos y acabo con la mayoria de los guerreros: la triste
historia de siempre, solo que en aquellos dias era demasiado comun. Luego
retrocedio, arrastrandose a traves de la Puerta Principal, y destrozo todos los
salones, aceras, tuneles, callejuelas, bodegas, mansiones y pasadizos. Despues
de eso no quedo enano vivo dentro, y el dragon se apodero de todas las riquezas.

Quiza, pues es costumbre entre los dragones, haya apilado todo en un gran
monton muy adentro y duerma sobre el tesoro utilizandolo como cama. Mas tarde
empezo a salir de vez en cuando arrastrandose por la puerta grande y llegaba a
Valle de noche, y se llevaba gente, especialmente doncellas, para comerlas en la
cueva, hasta que Valle quedo arruinada y toda la gente murio o huyo. Lo que pasa
alii ahora no lo se con certeza, pero no creo que nadie viva hoy entre la Montaha y
la orilla opuesta del Lago Largo.

Los pocos de nosotros que estabamos fuera, y asi nos salvamos, llorabamos a
escondidas y maldeciamos a Smaug, y alii nos encontramos inesperadamente con
mi padre y mi abuelo, que tenian las barbas chamuscadas. Parecian muy
preocupados, pero hablaban muy poco. Cuando les pregunte como habian huido
me dijeron que callase, que algun dia a su debido tiempo ya me enterarfa. Luego
escapamos, y tuvimos que ganarnos la vida lo mejor que pudimos en todas
aquellas tierras, y muy a menudo llegamos a trabajar en herrerias o aun en minas
de carbon. Pero nunca olvidamos el tesoro robado. E incluso ahora, en que he de
admitir que hemos acumulado alguna riqueza y no estamos tan mal — en este
momento Thorin acaricio la cadena de oro que le colgaba del cuello — todavia
pretendemos recuperarlo y hacer que nuestras maldiciones caigan sobre Smaug...
si podemos.

Con frecuencia me pregunte sobre la fuga de mi padre y mi abuelo. Pienso ahora
que tenia que haber una puerta lateral secreta que solo ellos conocian. Pero por lo
visto hicieron un mapa, y me gustaria saber como Gandalf se apodero de el, y por
que no llego a mi, el legitimo heredero.

— Yo no me apodere de el, me lo dieron — dijo el mago — . Quiza recuerdes que tu
abuelo Thror fue asesinado en las minas de Moria por Azog el Trasgo,

— Maldito sea su nombre, si — dijo Thorin.

— Y Thrain, tu padre, se marcho un veintiuno de abril, se cumplieron cien ahos el
jueves pasado; y desde entonces nunca se lo ha vuelto a ver...

— Cierto, cierto — dijo Thorin.



17



— Bien, tu padre me dio esto para que te lo diera; y si elegi el momento y el modo
de entregarlo, no puedes culparme, teniendo en cuenta las dificultades que tuve
para dar contigo. Tu padre no recordaba ni su propio nombre cuando me paso el
papel, y nunca me dijo el tuyo; de modo que en ultima instancia tendrias que
alabarme y agradecermelo. Toma, aqui esta — dijo entregando el mapa a Thorin.

— No lo entiendo — dijo Thorin, y Bilbo sintio que le gustaria decir lo mismo. La
explication no parecia explicar nada.

— Tu abuelo — dijo el mago pausada y seriamente — le dio el mapa a su hijo para
mayor seguridad antes de marcharse a las minas de Moria. Cuando mataron a tu
abuelo, tu padre salio a probar fortuna con el mapa; y tuvo muchas desagradables
aventuras, pero nunca se acerco a la Montana. Como llego alii, no lo se, pero lo
encontre prisionero en las mazmorras del Nigromante.

— ^Que demonios estabas haciendo alii? — pregunto Thorin con un escalofrio, y
todos los enanos se estremecieron.

— No te importa. Estaba averiguando cosas, como siempre; y resulto ser un
asunto sordido y peligroso. Hasta yo, Gandalf, apenas consegui escapar. Intente
salvar a tu padre, pero o era demasiado tarde. Habia perdido el juicio e iba de un
lado para otro, y habia olvidado casi todo excepto el mapa y la Nave.

— Hace tiempo que dimos su merecido a los trasgos de Moria — dijo Thorin — .
Ahora tendremos que ocuparnos del Nigromante.

— jNo seas absurdo! El Nigromante es un enemigo a quien no alcanzan los
poderes de todos los enanos juntos, si desde las cuatro esquinas del mundo se
reuniesen otra vez. Lo unico que deseaba tu padre era que tu leyeras el mapa y
usaras la Have. jEl dragon y la Montana son empresas mas que grandes para ti!

— jOid, oid! — dijo Bilbo, y sin querer hablo en voz alta.

— jOid, oid! — dijeron todos mirandolo, y Bilbo se puso tan nervioso que respondio:
— jOid lo que he de decir!

— ^Que es? — preguntaron.

— Bien, os dire que tendriais que ir hacia el Este y echar alii un vistazo. Al fin y al
cabo alii esta la Puerta lateral, y los dragones han de dormir alguna vez, supongo.
Si os sentais a la entrada durante un tiempo, creo que algo se os ocurrira. Y bien,
<i,no os parece que hemos charlado bastante para una noche, eh? «j,Que opinais
de irse a la cama, para empezar mahana temprano y todo eso? Os dare un buen
desayuno antes de que os vayais.

— Antes de que nos vayamos, supongo que querras decir — dijo Thorin — . <j,No
eres tu el saqueador? ^Y tu oficio no es esperar a la entrada, y aun cruzar la
puerta? Pero estoy de acuerdo en lo de la cama y el desayuno — Me gusta tomar
seis huevos con jamon cuando empiezo un viaje: fritos, no escalfados, y cuida de
no romperlos,

Luego de que los otros hubieran pedido sus desayunos sin ningun por favor (lo
que molesto sobremanera a Bilbo), todos se levantaron. El hobbit tuvo que



18



buscarles sitio, y preparo los cuartos vacfos, e hizo camas en sillas y sofas antes
de instalarlos e irse a su propia camita muy cansado y nada feliz. Lo que si decidio
fue no molestarse en madrugar y preparar el maldito desayuno para lodo el
mundo. La vena Tuk empezaba a desaparecer, y ahora ya no estaba tan seguro
de que fuese a hacer algun viaje por la manana.

Mientras yacia en cama pudo oir a Thorin en la habitacion de al lado, la mejor de
todas, todavia tarareando entre dientes:

Mas alta de las Mas y brumosas montanas,
a mazmorras profundas y cavernas antiguas
a reclamar el oro hace tiempo olvidado,
hemos de ir, antes que el dia nazca.



Bilbo se durmio con ese canto en los ofdos, y tuvo unos suenos intranquilos.
Desperto mucho despues de que naciera el dia.



CARNERO ASADO

Bilbo se levanto de un salto, y poniendose la bata entro en el comedor. Alii no vio
a nadie, pero si las huellas de un enorme y apresurado desayuno. Habia un
horrendo revoltijo en la habitacion, y pilas de cacharros sucios en la cocina.
Parecia que no hubiera quedado ninguna olla ni tartera sin usar. La tarea de
fregarlo todo fue tan tristemente real que Bilbo se vio obligado a creer que la
reunion de la noche anterior no habia sido parte de una pesadilla, como casi habia
esperado. La idea de que habian partido sin el y sin molestarse en despertarlo,
aunque nadie le hubiera dado las gracias, penso, lo habia aliviado de veras. Sin
embargo, no pudo dejar de sentir una cierta decepcion. Este sentimiento lo
sorprendio.

— No seas tonto, Bilbo Bolson — se dijo — , jpensando a tu edad en dragones y en
tonterias estrafalarias! — De modo que se puso el delantal, encendio unos fuegos,
calento agua y frego. Luego se tomo un pequeho y apetitoso desayuno en la
cocina, antes de arreglar el comedor. El sol ya brillaba entonces, y por la puerta
delantera entraba una calida brisa de primavera. Bilbo se puso a silbar y a olvidar
lo de la noche. Ya estaba sentandose para zamparse un segundo apetitoso
desayuno en el comedor, junto a la ventana abierta, cuando de pronto entro
Gandalf.

— Mi querido amigo — dijo — , ^Cuando vas a partir? <j,Que hay de aquello de
empezar temprano? Y aqui estas tomando el desayuno, o como quiera que llames
a eso, a las diez y media. Te dejaron un mensaje, pues no podian esperar.

— <j,Que mensaje? — dijo el pobre Bilbo sonrojado.



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— jPor los Grandes Elefantes! — respondio Gandalf — Estas desconocido esta
manana; jaun no le has quitado el polvo a la repisa de la chimenea!

— i,Y eso que tiene que ver? jYa tengo bastante con fregar los platos y ollas de
catorce desayunos!

— Si hubieses limpiado la repisa, habrias encontrado esto debajo del reloj — dijo
Gandalf alargandose una nota (por supuesto, escrita en unas cuartillas del propio
Bilbo).

Esto fue lo que el hobbit leyo:

"Thorin y Compahia al Saqueador Bilbo, jsalud! Nuestras mas sinceras gracias por
vuestra hospitalidad y nuestra agradecida aceptacion por habernos ofrecido
asistencia profesional. Condiciones: pago al contado y al finalizar el trabajo, hasta
un maximo de catorceavas partes de los beneficios totales (si los hay); todos los
gastos de viaje garantizados en cualquier circunstancia; los gastos de posibles
funerales los pagaremos nosotros o nuestros representantes, si hay ocasion y el
asunto no se arregla de otra manera.

Creyendo innecesario perturbar vuestro muy estimable reposo, nos hemos
adelantado a hacer los preparativos adecuados; esperaremos a vuestra respetable
persona en la posada del Dragon Verde, junto a Delagua, exactamente a las 1 1
a.m. Confiando en que sea puntual.

tenemos el honor de permanecer
sinceramente vuestros
Thorin y Cia."

— Esto te da diez minutos. Tendras que correr — dijo Gandalf.

— Pero... — dijo Bilbo.

— No hay tiempo para eso — dijo el mago.

— Pero... — dijo otra vez Bilbo.

— Y tampoco para eso otro jVamos, adelante!

Hasta el final de sus dias Bilbo no alcanzo a recordar como se encontro fuera, sin
sombrero, baston, o dinero, o cualquiera de las cosas que acostumbraba llevar
cuando salia, dejando el segundo desayuno a medio terminar, casi sin lavarse la
cara, y poniendo las Naves en manos de Gandalf, corriendo callejon abajo tanto
como se lo permitian los pies peludos, dejando atras el Gran Molino, cruzando el
no, y continuando asi durante una milla o mas.

Resoplando llego a Delagua cuando empezaban a sonar las once, jy descubrio
que se habia venido sin pahuelo!

— jBravo! — dijo Balin, que estaba de pie a la puerta de la posada, esperandolo,



20



Y entonces aparecieron todos los demas doblando la curva del camino que venia
de la villa. Montaban en poneys, y de cada uno de los caballos colgaba toda clase
de equipajes, bultos, paquetes y chismes. Habia un poney pequeno,
aparentemente para Bilbo.

— Arriba vosotros dos, y adelante — dijo Thorin.

— Lo siento terriblemente — dijo Bilbo — , pero me he venido sin mi sombrero, me
he olvidado el pahuelo de bolsillo, y no tengo dinero. No vi vuestra nota hasta
despues de las 10.45, para ser precisos.

— No seas preciso — dijo Dwalin — , y no te preocupes. Tendras que arreglartelas
sin pahuelos y sin buena parte de otras cosas antes de que lleguemos al final del
viaje. En lo que respecta al sombrero, yo tengo un capuchon y una capa de sobra
en mi equipaje.

Y asi fue como se pusieron en marcha, alejandose de la posada en una hermosa
mahana poco antes del mes de mayo, montados en poneys cargados de bultos; y
Bilbo llevaba un capuchon de color verde oscuro (un poco ajado por el tiempo) y
una capa del mismo color que Dwalin le habia prestado. Le quedaban muy
grandes, y tenia un aspecto bastante comico. No me atrevo a aventurar lo que su
padre Bungo hubiese dicho de el.

Solo le consolaba pensar que no lo confundirian con un enano, pues no tenia
barba.

Aun no habian cabalgado mucho tiempo cuando aparecio Gandalf, esplendido,
montando un caballo bianco. Traia un monton de pahuelos y la pipa y el tabaco de
Bilbo. Asi que desde entonces cabalgaron felices, contando historias o cantando
canciones durante toda la Jornada, excepto, naturalmente, cuando paraban a
comer. Esto no ocurrio con la frecuencia que Bilbo hubiese deseado, pero ya
empezaba a sentir que las aventuras no eran en verdad tan malas.

Cruzaron primero las tierras de los hobbits, un extenso pais habitado por gente
simpatica, con buenos caminos, una posada o dos, y aqui y alia un enano o un
granjero que trabajaba en paz.

Llegaron luego a tierras donde la gente hablaba de un modo extraho y cantaba
canciones que Bilbo no habia oido nunca. Se internaron en las Tierras Solitarias,
donde no habia gente ni posadas y los caminos eran cada vez peores. No mucho
mas adelante se alzaron unas colinas melancolicas, oscurecidas por arboles. En
algunas habia viejos castillos, torvos de aspecto, como si hubiesen sido
construidos por gente maldita. Todo parecia lugubre, pues el tiempo se habia
estropeado. Hasta entonces el dia habia sido tan bueno como pudiera esperarse
en mayo, aun en las historias felices, pero ahora era frio y humedo. En las Tierras
Solitarias se habian visto obligados a acampar en un lugar desapacible, pero seco
al menos.

— Pensar que pronto llegara junio — mascullaba Bilbo, mientras avanzaba
chapoteando detras de los otros por un sendero enlodado. La hora del te ya habia
quedado atras; la lluvia caia a cantaros, y asi habia sido todo el dia; el capuchon



21



le goteaba en los ojos; tenia la capa empapada; el poney cansado tropezaba con
las piedras; los otros estaban demasiado enfurrunados para charlar.

— Estoy seguro que la lluvia se ha colado hasta las ropas secas y las bolsas de
comida — gruho Bilbo — . jMalditos sean los saqueadores y todo lo que se
relacione con ellos! Como quisiera estar en mi confortable agujero, al amor de la
lumbre, y con la marmita que ha empezado a silbar. — jNo fue la ultima vez que
tuvo este deseo!

Sin embargo, los enanos seguian al paso, sin volverse ni prestar atencion al
hobbit. Parecio que el sol se habia puesto ya en algun lugar detras de las nubes
grises, pues cuando descendian hacia un valle profundo con un no en el fondo,
empezo a oscurecer. Se levanto viento, y los sauces se mecian y susurraban a lo
largo de las orillas. Por fortuna el camino atravesaba un antiguo puente de piedra,
pues el no crecido por las lluvias bajaba precipitado de las colinas y montanas del
norte.

Era casi de noche cuando lo cruzaron. El viento desgajo las nubes grises y una
luna errante aparecio entre los jirones flotantes. Entonces se detuvieron, y Thorin
murmuro algo acerca de la cena y — ^Donde encontraremos un lugar seco para
dormir?

En ese momento cayeron en la cuenta de que faltaba Gandalf. Hasta entonces
habia hecho todo el camino con ellos, sin decir si participaba de la aventura o
simplemente los acompahaba un rato. Habia hablado, comido y reido como el que
mas... Pero ahora simplemente jno estaba alii!

— jVaya, justo en el momento en que un mago nos seria mas util! — suspiraron
Dori y Nori (que compartian los puntos de vista del hobbit sobre la regularidad,
cantidad y frecuencia de las comidas).

Por fin decidieron que acamparian alii mismo. Se acercaron a una arboleda, y
aunque el terreno estaba mas seco, el viento hacia caer las gotas de las hojas y el
plip — plip molestaba bastante. El mal parecia haberse metido en el fuego mismo.
Los enanos saben hacer fuego en cualquier parte, casi con cualquier cosa, con o
sin viento, pero no pudieron encenderlo esa noche, ni siquiera 6in y Gloin, que en
esto eran especialmente mahosos.

Entonces uno de los poneys se asusto de nada y escapo corriendo. Se metio en el
no antes de que pudieran detenerlo; y antes de que pudiesen llevarlo de vuelta,
Fili y Kili casi murieron ahogados; y el agua habia arrastrado el equipaje del
poney. Naturalmente, era casi todo comida, y quedaba muy poco para la cena, y
menos para el desayuno.

Todos se sentaron, taciturnos, empapados y rezongando, mientras 6in y Gloin
seguian intentando encender el fuego y discutiendo el asunto. Bilbo reflexionaba
tristemente que las aventuras no eran solo cabalgatas en poney al sol de mayo,
cuando Balin, el oteador del grupo, exclamo de pronto: — jAlla hay una luz! — Un
poco apartada asomaba una colina con arboles, bastante espesos en algunos
sitios. Fuera de la masa oscura de la arboleda, todos pudieron ver entonces el



22



brillo de una luz, una luz rojiza, confortadora, como una fogata o antorchas
parpadeantes.

Luego de observarla un rato, se enredaron en una discusion. Unos decian que "si"
y otros decian que "no". Algunos opinaron que lo unico que se podia hacer era ir y
mirar, y que cualquier cosa seria mejor que poca cena, menos desayuno, y ropas
mojadas toda la noche.

Otros dijeron: — Ninguno de estos parajes es bien conocido, y las montanas estan
demasiado cerca. Rara vez algun viajero se aventura ahora por estos lados. Los
mapas antiguos ya no sirven, las cosas han empeorado mucho. Los caminos no
estan custodiados, y aqui ademas han oido hablar del rey en contadas ocasiones,
y cuanto menos preguntas hagas menos dificultades encontraras. — Alguno dijo:
— Al fin y al cabo somos catorce. — Otros: — ^Donde esta Gandalf? — pregunta
que fue repetida por todos.

En ese momento la lluvia empezo a caer mas fuerte que nunca, y 6in y Gloin
iniciaron una pelea.

Esto puso las cosas en su sitio: — Al fin y al cabo, tenemos un saqueador entre
nosotros — dijeron; y asi echaron a andar, guiando a los poneys (con toda la
precaution debida y apropiada) hacia la luz. Llegaron a la colina y pronto
estuvieron en el bosque. Subieron la pendiente, pero no se veia ningun sendero
adecuado que pudiera llevar a una casa o una granja. Continuaron como pudieron,
entre chasquidos, crujidos y susurros (y una buena cantidad de maldiciones y
refunfuhos) mientras avanzaban por la oscuridad cerrada <j,el bosque.

De subito la luz roja brillo muy clara entre los arboles no mucho mas alia, — Ahora
le toca al saqueador — dijeron refiriendose a Bilbo — . Tienes que ir y averiguarlo
todo de esa luz, para que es, y si las cosas parecen normales y en orden — dijo
Thorin al hobbit — . Ahora corre, y vuelve rapido si todo esta bien. Si no, jvuelve
como puedas! Si no puedes, grita dos veces como lechuza de granero y una como
lechuza de campo, y haremos lo que podamos.

Y alia tuvo que partir Bilbo, antes de poder explicates que era tan incapaz de
gritar como una lechuza como de volar como un murcielago.

Pero, de todos modos, los hobbits saben moverse en silencio por el bosque, en
completo silencio. Era una habilidad de la que se sentian orgullosos, y Bilbo mas
de una vez habia torcido la cara mientras cabalgaban, criticando ese "estrepito
propio de enanos"; pero me imagino que ni vosotros ni yo hubieramos advertido
nada en una noche de ventisca, aunque la cabalgata hubiese pasado casi
rozandonos. En cuanto a la sigilosa marcha de Bilbo hacia la luz roja, creo que no
hubiera perturbado ni el bigote de una comadreja, de modo que llego directamente
al fuego — pues era un fuego — sin alarmar a nadie. Y esto fue lo que vio.

Habia tres criaturas muy grandes sentadas alrededor de una hoguera de troncos
de haya, y estaban asando un carnero espetado en largos asadores de madera y
chupandose la salsa de los dedos. Habia un olor delicioso en el aire. Tambien
habia un barril de buena bebida a mano, y bebian de unas jarras. Pero eran trolls.
Trolls sin ninguna duda. Aun Bilbo, a pesar de su vida retirada, podia darse



23



cuenta: las grandes caras toscas, la estatura, el perfil de las piernas, por no hablar
del lenguaje, que no era precisamente el que se escucha en un salon de invitados.

— Carnerro ayer, carnerro hoy y maldicion si no carnerro mahana — dijo uno de los
trolls.

— Ni una mala pizca de carne humana probamos desde hace mucho, mucho
tiempo — dijo otro troll — . Por que demonios Guille nos habra traido aqui; y
ademas la bebida esta escaseando — ahadio, tocando el codo de Guille, que en
ese momento bebia un sorbo.

Guille se atraganto: — jCierra la boca! — dijo tan pronto como pudo — . No puedes
esperar que la gente se quede por aqui solo para que tu y Berto se la zampen.
Habeis comido un pueblo y medio entre los dos desde que bajamos de las
montahas. «j,Que mas quereis? Y esos tiempos han pasado. Y tendrias que haber
dicho 'Grracias, Guille', por este buen bocado de carnerro gordo del valle. —
Arranco un pedazo de la pierna del cordero que estaba asando y se limpio la boca
con la manga.

En efecto, me temo que los trolls se comportan siempre asi, aun aquellos que solo
tienen una cabeza. Luego de haber oido todo esto, Bilbo tendria que haber hecho
algo sin demora. O bien haber regresado en silencio. Y avisar a los demas que
habia tres trolls de buena talla y malhumorados, bastante grandes como para
comerse un enano asado o aun un pony, como novedad; o bien tendria que haber
hecho una buena y rapida demostracion de merodeo nocturno. Un saqueador
legendario y realmente de primera clase, en esta situacion habria metido mano a
los bolsillos de los trolls (algo que casi siempre vale la pena, si consigues hacerlo),
habria sacado el carnero de los espetones, habria arrebatado la cerveza y se
hubiera ido sin que nadie se enterase. Otros mas practicos, pero con menos
orgullo profesional, quiza habrian clavado una daga a cada uno de ellos antes de
que se dieran cuenta. Luego el y los enanos hubieran podido tener una noche
feliz.

Bilbo lo sabia. Habia leido de muchas buenas cosas que nunca habia visto o
nunca habia hecho. Estaba muy asustado, y disgustado tambien; hubiera querido
encontrarse a cien millas de distancia, y sin embargo... sin embargo no podia
volver directamente a donde estaban Thorin y Compahia con las manos vacias.
Asi que se quedo, titubeando en las sombras. De los muchos procedimientos de
saqueo de que habia oido, hurgonear en los bolsillos de los trolls le parecio el
menos dificil, asi que se arrastro hasta un arbol, justo detras de Guille.

Berto y Tom iban ahora hacia el barril. Guille estaba echando otro trago. Bilbo se
armo de coraje e introdujo la manita en el enorme bolsillo de Guille. Habia un
saquito dentro, para Bilbo tan grande como un zurron. "jJa!" penso,
entusiasmandose con el nuevo trabajo, mientras extraia la mano poco a poco, "jy
esto es solo un principio!"

jFue un principio! Los sacos de los trolls son engahosos, y este no era una
excepcion. — jEh!, ^quien eres tu? — chillo el saco en el momento en que dejaba
el bolsillo, y Guille dio una rapida vuelta y tomo a Bilbo por el cuello antes de que
el hobbit pudiera refugiarse detras del arbol.



24



— jMaldicion, Berto, mira lo que he cazado!

— ^Que es? — dijeron los otros acercandose.

— jQue un rayo me parta si lo se! ^Tu, que eres?

— Bilbo Bolson, un saque... un hobbit — dijo el pobre Bilbo temblando de pies a
cabeza, y preguntandose como podria gritar como una lechuza antes que lo
degollasen.

— ^Un saquehobbit? — dijeron los otros un poco alarmados. Los trolls son cortos
de entendimiento, y bastante suspicaces con cualquier cosa que les parezca una
novedad.

— De todos modos, <j,que tiene que hacer un saquehobbit en mis bolsillos? — dijo
Guille.

— Y ipodremos cocinarlo? — dijo Tom.

— Se puede intentar — propuso Berto blandiendo un asador.

— No alcanzaria mas que para un bocado — dijo Guille, que habia cenado bien — ,
una vez que le saquemos la piel y los huesos.

— Quiza haya otros como el alrededor y podamos hacer un pastel — dijo Berto — .
Eh, tu, <j,hay otros ladronzuelos por estos bosques, pequeho conejo asqueroso? —
dijo mirando las extremidades peludas del hobbit; y tomandolo por los dedos de
los pies lo levanto y sacudio.

— Si, muchos — dijo Bilbo antes de darse cuenta de que traicionaba a sus
compaheros — . No, nadie, ni uno — dijo inmediatamente despues.

— ^Que quieres decir? — pregunto Berto, levantandolo en vilo, esta vez por el
pelo.

— Lo que digo — respondio Bilbo jadeando — . Y por favor, jno me cocinen,
amables sehores! Yo mismo cocino bien, y soy mejor cocinero que cocinado, si
entienden lo que quiero decir. Les preparare un hermoso desayuno, un desayuno
perfecto si no me comen en la cena.

— Pobrecito bribon — dijo Guille. Habia comido ya hasta hartarse, y tambien habia
bebido mucha cerveza — . Pobrecito bribon. jDejadlo ir!

— No hasta que diga que quiso decir con muchos y ninguno — replico Berto — , no
quiero que me rebanen el cuello mientras duermo.

— jPonedle los pies al fuego hasta que hable!

— No lo hare — dijo Guille — , al fin y al cabo yo lo he atrapado.

— Eres un gordo estupido, Guille — dijo Berto — , ya te lo dije antes, por la tarde.

— Y tu, un patan.

— Y yo no lo permitire, Guille Estrujonez — dijo Berto, y descargo el puho contra el
ojo de Guille,



25



La pelea que siguio fue esplendida. Bilbo no perdio del todo el juicio, y cuando
Berto lo dejo caer, gateo apartandose antes que los trolls estuviesen peleando
como perros y llamandose a grandes voces con distintos apelativos, verdaderos y
perfectamente adecuados, Pronto estuvieron enredados en un abrazo feroz, casi
rodando hasta el fuego, dandose puntapies y aporreandose, mientras Tom los
golpeaba con una rama para que recobraran el juicio, y por supuesto
enfureciendolos todavia mas.

Bilbo hubiera podido escapar en ese mismo instante. Pero las grandes garras de
Berto le habian estrujado los desdichados pies, habia perdido el aliento, y la
cabeza le daba vueltas; asi que alii se quedo resollando, justo fuera del circulo de
luz.

De pronto, en plena pelea, aparecio Balin. Los enanos habian oido ruidos a lo
lejos, y luego de esperar un rato a que Bilbo volviera o que gritara como una
lechuza, empezaron a arrastrarse hacia la luz tratando de no hacer ruido. Tan
pronto como Tom vio aparecer a Balin a la luz, dio un horrible aullido. Ocurre que
los trolls no soportan la vista de un enano (crudo). Berto y Guille dejaron en
seguida de pelear, y — Un saco, rapido, Tom — dijeron.

Antes de que Balin, quien se preguntaba donde estaba Bilbo en aquella
conmocion, se diera cuenta de lo que ocurria, le habian echado un saco sobre la
cabeza, y lo habian derribado.

— Aun vendran mas, o me equivoco bastante. Muchos y ninguno, eso es — dijo — .
No mas saquehobbits, pero muchos enanos. jEso es lo que queria decir!

— Pienso que tienes razon — dijo Berto — , y convendria que saliesemos de la luz.

Y asi hicieron. Teniendo en la mano unos sacos que usaban para llevar carneros y
otras presas, esperaron en las sombras. Cuando aparecia algun enano, y miraba
sorprendido el fuego, las jarras desbordadas y el carnero roido, ipop!, un saco
maloliente le caia sobre la cabeza, y el enano rodaba por el suelo. Pronto Dwalin
yacia al lado de Balin, y Fili y Kili juntos, y Dori y Nori y Ori en un monton, y 6in,
Gloin, Bifur, Bofur y Bombur incomodamente apilados cerca del fuego.

— Eso les ensehara — dijo Tom, ya que Bifur y Bombur habian causado muchos
problemas y habian peleado como locos, tal como hacen los enanos cuando se
ven acorralados.

Thorin llego ultimo, y no lo tomaron desprevenido. Llego esperando encontrar algo
malo, y no necesito ver las piernas de sus amigos sobresaliendo de los sacos para
darse cuenta de que las cosas no iban del todo bien. Se quedo fuera, algo aparte,
en las sombras, y dijo: — iQue es todo este jaleo? ^Quien esta aporreando a mi
gente?

— Son trolls — respondio Bilbo desde atras del arbol. Lo habian olvidado por
completo — . Estan escondidos entre los arbustos, con sacos.

— Oh, <j,son trolls? — dijo Thorin, y salto hacia el fuego cuando los trolls se
precipitaban sobre el. Alzo una rama gruesa que ardia en un extremo y Berto la
tuvo en un ojo antes de que pudiera esquivarla. Eso lo puso fuera de combate



26



durante un rato. Bilbo hizo todo lo que pudo. Se aferro de algun modo a una pierna
de Tom — era gruesa como el tronco de un arbol joven — , pero lo enviaron dando
vueltas hasta la copa de unos arbustos, mientras Tom pateaba las chispas hacia
la cara de Thorin. La rama golpeo los dientes de Tom, que perdio un incisive Esto
lo hizo aullar, os lo aseguro. Pero justo en ese momento. Guille aparecio detras y
le echo a Thorin un saco a la cabeza y se lo bajo hasta los pies. Y asi acabo la
lucha. Un bonito escabeche eran todos ellos ahora, primorosamente atados en
sacos, con tres trolls enfadados (dos con quemaduras y golpes que recordar)
sentados cerca, discutiendo si los asarian a fuego lento, si los picarian fino y luego
los cocerian, o bien si se sentarian sobre ellos, haciendolos papilla; y Bilbo en lo
alto de un arbusto, con la piel y las vestiduras rasgadas, no atreviendose a intentar
un movimiento, por miedo de que lo oyeran.

Fue entonces cuando volvio Gandalf, pero nadie lo vio. Los trolls acababan de
decidir que meterian a los enanos en el asador y se los comerian mas tarde; habia
sido idea de Berto, y tras una larga discusion todos estuvieron de acuerdo.

— No es buena idea asarlos ahora, nos llevaria toda la noche — dijo una voz. Berto
creyo que era la voz de Guille.

— No empecemos de nuevo la discusion, Guille — dijo el otro — , o si que nos
llevaria toda la noche.

— ^Quien esta discutiendo? — dijo Guille, creyendo que habia sido Berto el que
habia hablado.

— jTu! — dijo Berto.

— Eres un mentiroso — dijo Guille, y asi empezo otra vez la discusion. Por fin
decidieron picarlos y cocerlos, asi que trajeron una gran cacerola negra y sacaron
los cuchillos.

— jNo esta bien cocerlos! No tenemos agua y hay todo un buen trecho hasta el
pozo — dijo una voz. Berto y Guille creyeron que era la de Tom.

— jCalla o nunca acabaremos! Y tu mismo traeras el agua si dices una palabra
mas.

— jCallate tu! — dijo Tom, quien creyo que era la voz de Guille — . ^Quieue
cruzarlo despacio y con cuidado, en fila, llevando cada uno un poney por las
riendas. Los elfos habian traido faroles brillantes a la orilla y cantaron una
animada cancion mientras el grupo iba pasando.

— jNo mojes tu barba con la espuma, padre! — le gritaron a Thorin, que de tan
encorvado iba casi a gatas — , Ya es bastante larga sin necesidad de que la mojes.

— jCuidado con Bilbo, no se vaya a comer todos los bizcochos! — dijeron — .
jTodavia esta demasiado gordo para colarse por el agujero de la cerradura!

— jSilencio, silencio, Buena Gente! jY buenas noches! — dijo Gandalf, que habia
llegado ultimo — . Los valles tienen oidos, y algunos elfos tienen lenguas
demasiado sueltas. jBuenas noches!

Y asi llegaron por fin a la Ultima Morada y encontraron las puertas abiertas de par
en par.

Ahora bien, parece extraho, pero las cosas que es bueno tener y los dias que se
pasan de un modo agradable se cuentan muy pronto y no se les presta demasiada
atencion; en cambio, las cosas que son incomodas, estremecedoras, y aun
horribles, pueden hacer un buen relato, y ademas Neva tiempo contarlas. Se
quedaron muchos dias en aquella casa agradable, catorce al menos, y les costo
irse. Bilbo se hubiese quedado alii con gusto para siempre, incluso suponiendo
que un deseo hubiera podido transportarlo sin problemas directa mente de vuelta
al agujero — hobbit. No obstante, algo hay que contar sobre esta estancia,

El dueho de casa era amigo de los elfos, una de esas gentes cuyos padres
aparecen en cuentos extrahos, anteriores al principio de la historia misma, las
guerras de los trasgos malvados y los elfos, y los primeros hombres del Norte. En
los dias de nuestro relato, habia aun algunas gentes que descendian de los elfos y
los heroes del Norte; y Elrond, el dueho de casa, era el jefe de todos ellos.

Era tan noble y de facciones tan hermosas como un sehor de los elfos, fuerte
como un guerrero, sabio como un mago, venerable como un rey de los enanos, y
benevolo como el estio. Aparece en muchos relatos, pero la parte que desempeha
en la historia de la aventura de Bilbo es pequeha, aunque importante, como vereis,
si alguna vez llegamos a acabarla. La casa era perfecta tanto para comer o dormir
como para trabajar, o contar historias, o cantar, o simplemente sentarse y pensar
mejor, o una agradable mezcla de todo esto. La perversidad no tenia cabida en
aquel valle.



34



Desearia tener tiempo para contaros solo unas pocas de las historias o una o dos
de las canciones que se oyeron entonces en aquella casa. Todos los viajeros,
incluyendo los poneys, se sintieron refrescados y fortalecidos luego de pasar alii
unos pocos dias. Les compusieron los vestidos, tanto como las magulladuras, el
humor, y las esperanzas. Les llenaron las alforjas con comida y provisiones de
poco peso, pero fortificantes, buenas para cruzar los desfiladeros. Les
aconsejaron bien y corrigieron los planes de la expedition. Asi llego el solsticio de
verano y se dispusieron a partir otra vez con los primeros rayos del sol estival.

Elrond lo sabia todo sobre runas de cualquier tipo. Aquel dia observo las espadas
que habian tornado en la guarida de los trolls y comento: — Esto no es obra de los
trolls. Son espadas antiguas, muy antiguas, de los Altos Elfos del Oeste, mis
parientes. Estan hechas en Gondolin para las guerras de los trasgos. Tienen que
haber sido parte del tesoro escondido de un dragon, o de un botin de los trasgos,
pues los dragones y los trasgos destruyeron esa ciudad hace muchos siglos. En
esta, Thorin, las runas dicen Orcrist, la Hiende Trasgos en la ancestral lengua de
Gondolin; fue una hoja famosa. Esta, Gandalf, fue Glamdrin, la Manilla Enemigos,
que una vez llevo el rey de Gondolin. jGuardadlas bien!

— <j,De donde las habran sacado los trolls, me pregunto? — murmuro Thorin
mirando su espada con renovado interes.

— No sabria decirlo — dijo Elrond — , pero puede suponerse que vuestros trolls
habran saqueado otros botines, o habran descubierto los restos de viejos robos en
alguna cueva de las montahas. He oido que hay quiza todavia tesoros ignotos en
las cavernas desiertas de las minas de Moria, desde la guerra de los enanos y los
trasgos.

Thorin medito estas palabras. — Llevare esta espada con honor — dijo — . jOjala
pronto hienda trasgos otra vez!

— jUn deseo que quiza se cumpla muy pronto en los montes! — dijo Elrond — .
jPero mostradme ahora vuestro mapa!

Lo tomo y lo miro largo rato, y meneo la cabeza; pues si no aprobaba del todo a
los enanos y el amor que le tenian al oro, odiaba a los dragones y la cruel
perversidad de estas bestias, y se afligio al recordar la ruina de la ciudad de Valle
y aquellas campanas alegres, y las riberas incendiadas del centelleante Rio
Rapido. La luna resplandecia en un amplio cuarto creciente de plata. Elrond alzo
el mapa y la luz blanca lo atraveso. — iQue es esto? — dijo — . Hay letras lunares
aqui junto a las runas y que dicen "cinco pies de altura y tres pasan con holgura".

— «j,Que son las letras lunares? — pregunto el hobbit muy excitado. Le encantaban
los mapas, como ya os he dicho antes; y tambien le gustaban las runas, y las
letras, y las escrituras ingeniosas, aunque el escribia con letras delgadas y como
patas de araha.

— Las letras lunares son letras runicas, pero que no se pueden ver — dijo Elrond — ,
no al menos directamente. Solo se las ve cuando la luna brilla por detras, y en los
ejemplos mas ingeniosos la fase de la luna y la estacion tienen que ser las mismas
que en el dia en que fueron escritas. Los enanos las inventaron y las escribian con



35



plumas de plata, como tus amigos te pueden contar. Estas tienen que haber sido
escritas en una noche del solsticio de verano con luna creciente, hace ya largo
tiempo.

— <j,Que es lo que dicen? — preguntaron Gandalf y Thorin a la vez, un poco
fastidiados quiza de que Elrond las hubiese descubierto primero, aunque es cierto
que hasta entonces no habian tenido la oportunidad, y no volverian a tenerla quien
sabe por cuanto tiempo.

— Estad cerca de la piedra gris cuando Name el zorzal — leyo Elrond — y el sol
poniente brillara sobre el ojo de la cerradura con las ultimas luces del Dia de
Durin.

— i Durin, Durin! — exclamo Thorin. — . Era el padre de los padres de la mas antigua
raza de Enanos, los Barbiluengos, y mi primer antepasado: yo soy el heredero de
Durin.

— Pero ^cuando es el Dia de Durin? — pregunto Elrond.

— El primer dia del Aho Nuevo de los enanos — dijo Thorin — . Como todos sabeis
sin duda, el primer dia de la ultima luna otohal, en los umbrales del invierno.
Todavia llamamos Dia de Durin a aquel en que el sol y la ultima luna de otoho
estan juntos en el cielo. Pero me temo que esto no ayudara, pues nadie sabe hoy
cuando este tiempo se presentara otra vez.

— Eso esta por verse — dijo Gandalf — i Hay algo mas escrito?

— Nada que se revele con esta luna — dijo Elrond, y le devolvio el mapa a Thorin; y
luego bajaron al agua para ver a los elfos que bailaban y cantaban en la noche del
solsticio.

La mahana siguiente, la mahana del solsticio, fue tan hermosa y fresca como
hubiera podido soharse: un cielo azul sin nubes, y el sol que brillaba en el agua.
Partieron entonces entre cantos de despedida y buen viaje, con los corazones
dispuestos a nuevas aventuras, y sabiendo por donde tenian que ir para cruzar las
Montahas Nubladas hacia la tierra de mas alia.



SOBRE LA COLINA Y BAJO LA COLINA

Habia muchas sendas que subian internandose en aquellas montahas, y sobre
ellas muchos desfiladeros. Pero la mayoria de estas sendas eran engahosas y
decepcionantes, o no llevaban a ningun lado, o acababan mal; y la mayoria de
estos desfiladeros estaba infestada de criaturas malvadas y de peligros
horrorosos. Los enanos y el hobbit, ayudados por el sabio consejo de Elrond y los
conocimientos y la memoria de Gandalf, tomaron el camino que llegaba al
desfiladero apropiado.

Muchos dias despues de haber remontado el valle y de dejar millas atras la Ultima
Morada, todavia seguian subiendo y subiendo. Era una senda escabrosa y
peligrosa, un camino tortuoso, desierto y largo. Al fin pudieron volverse a mirar las



36



tierras que habian dejado, alia abajo en la distancia. Lejos, muy lejos en el
poniente, donde las cosas eran azules y tenues, Bilbo sabia que estaba su propio
pais, con casas seguras y comodas, y el pequeno agujero — hobbit. Se estremecio.
Empezaba a sentirse un frio cortante alii arriba, y el viento silbaba entre las rocas.
Tambien, a veces, unos cantos rodados bajaban a saltos por las laderas de la
montana — los habia soltado el sol de mediodia sobre la nieve — y pasaban entre
ellos (lo que era afortunado) o sobre sus cabezas (lo que era alarmante). Las
noches se sucedian incomodas y muy Mas, y no se atrevian a cantar ni a hablar
demasiado alto, pues los ecos eran extranos y parecia que al silencio le molestaba
que lo quebrasen, excepto con el ruido del agua, el quejido del viento y el crujido
de la piedra.

"El verano esta llegando alia abajo" penso Bilbo. "Y ya empiezan la siega del heno
y las meriendas. A este paso estaran recolectando y recogiendo moras aun antes
de que empecemos a bajar del otro lado." Y los de mas tenian tambien
pensamientos lugubres de este tipo, aunque cuando se habian despedido de
Elrond alentados por la mahana de verano, habian hablado alegremente del cruce
de las montanas y de cabalgar al galope por las tierras que se extendian mas alia.
Habian pensado llegar a la puerta secreta de la Montana Solitaria tal vez en esa
misma primera luna de otoho. — Y quiza sea el Dia de Durin — habian dicho. Solo
Gandalf habia meneado en silencio la cabeza. Ningun enano habia atravesado
ese paso desde hacia muchos ahos, pero Gandalf si, y conocia el mal y el peligro
que habian crecido y aumentado en las tierras salvajes desde que los dragones
habian expulsado de alii a los hombres, y desde que los trasgos habian ocupado
la region en secreto despues de la batalla de las Minas de Moria. Aun los buenos
planes de magos sabios como Gandalf, y de buenos amigos como Elrond, se
olvidan a veces, cuando uno esta lejos en peligrosas aventuras al borde del
Yermo; y Gandalf era un mago bastante sabio como para tenerlo en cuenta.

Sabia que algo inesperado podia ocurrir, y apenas se atrevia a desear que no
tuvieran alguna aventura horrible en aquellas grandes y altas montanas de picos y
valles solitarios, donde no gobernaba ningun rey. Nada ocurrio. Todo marcho bien,
hasta que un dia se encontraron con una tormenta de truenos; mas que una
tormenta era una batalla de truenos. Sabeis que terrible puede llegar a ser una
verdadera tormenta de truenos alia abajo en el valle del no; sobre todo cuando
dos grandes tormentas se encuentran y se baten. Mas terribles todavia son los
truenos y los relampagos en las montanas por la noche, cuando las tormentas
vienen del este y del oeste y luchan entre ellas. El relampago se hace trizas sobre
los picos, y las rocas tiemblan, y unos enormes estruendos parten el aire, y entran
rodando a los tumbos en todas las cuevas y agujeros y un ruido abrumador y una
claridad subita invaden la oscuridad.

Bilbo nunca habia visto o imaginado nada semejante. Estaban muy arriba en un
lugar estrecho, y a un lado un precipicio espantoso caia sobre un valle sombrio.
Alii pasaron la noche, al abrigo de una roca; Bilbo tendido bajo una manta y
temblando de pies a cabeza. Cuando miro fuera, vio a la luz de los relampagos los
gigantes de piedra abajo en el valle; habian salido y ahora jugaban tirandose
piedras unos a otros; las re — cogian y las arrojaban en la oscuridad, y alia abajo



37



se rompian o desmenuzaban entre los arboles. Luego llegaron el viento y la lluvia,
y el viento azotaba la lluvia y el granizo en todas direcciones, por lo que el refugio
de la roca no los protegia mucho. Al rato estaban empapados hasta los huesos y
los poneys se encogfan, bajaban la cabeza, y metian la cola entre las patas, y
algunos re linchaban de miedo. Las risotadas y los gritos de los gigantes podian
oirse por encima de todas las laderas.

— jEsto no ira bien! — dijo Thorin — , Si no salimos despedidos, o nos ahogamos, o
nos alcanza un rayo, nos atrapara alguno de esos gigantes y de una patada nos
mandara al cielo como una pelota de futbol.

— Bien, si sabes de un sitio mejor, jllevanos alii! — dijo Gandalf, quien se sentia
muy malhumorado, y no estaba nada contento con los gigantes.

El final de la discusion fue enviar a Fili y Kili en busca de un refugio mejor. Tenian
ojos muy penetrantes, y siendo los enanos mas jovenes (unos cincuenta anos
menos que los otros), se ocupaban por lo comun de este tipo de tareas (cuando
todos comprendfan que seria inutil enviar a Bilbo). No hay nada como mirar, si
quereis encontrar algo (al menos eso decia Thorin a los enanos jovenes).

Cierto que casi siempre, se encuentra algo, si se mira, pero no siempre es lo que
uno busca. Asi ocurrio en esta ocasion.

Fili y Kili pronto estuvieron de vuelta, arrastrandose, doblados por el viento,
aferrandose a las rocas. — Hemos encontrado una cueva seca — dijeron — ,
doblando el proximo recodo no muy lejos de aqui; y caben poneys y todo.

— ^La habeis explorado afondo? — dijo el mago, que sabia que las cuevas de las
montanas raras veces estan sin ocupar.

— jSi, si! — dijeron Fili y Kili, aunque todos sabian que no podian haber estado alii
mucho tiempo; habian regresado casi en seguida — . No es demasiado grande y
tampoco muy profunda.

Naturalmente, esto es lo peligroso de las cuevas; a veces uno no sabe lo
profundas que son, o a donde puede llevar un pasadizo, o lo que te espera dentro.
Pero en aquel momento las noticias de Fili y Kili parecieron bastante buenas. Asi
que todos se levantaron y se prepararon para trasladarse. El viento aullaba y el
trueno retumbaba aun, y era dificil moverse con los poneys. De todos modos, la
cueva no estaba muy lejos. Al poco tiempo llegaron a una gran roca que
sobresalia en la senda. Detras, en la ladera de la montaha, se abria un arco bajo.

Habia espacio suficiente para que pasaran los poneys apretujados, una vez que
les quitaran las sillas. Debajo del arco era agradable oir el viento y la lluvia fuera y
no cayendo sobre ellos, y sentirse a salvo de los gigantes y sus rocas. Pero el
mago no queria correr riesgos. Encendio su vara — como aquel dia en el comedor
de Bilbo que ahora parecia tan lejano, si lo recordais — y con la luz exploraron la
cueva de extremo a extreme

Parecia de buen tamaho, pero no era demasiado grande ni misteriosa. Tenia el
suelo seco y algunos rincones comodos. En uno de ellos habia lugar para los
poneys, y alii permanecieron las bestias muy contentas del cambio, humeando y



38



mascando en los morrales. 6in y Gloin querian encender una hoguera en la
entrada para secarse la ropa, pero Gandalf no quiso ni ofrlo. Asi que tendieron las
cosas humedas en el suelo y sacaron otras secas; luego ahuecaron las mantas,
sacaron las pipas e hicieron anillos de humo que Gandalf volvia de diferentes
colores y hacia bailar en el techo para entretenerlos. Charlaron y charlaron, y
olvidaron la tormenta, y discutieron lo que cada uno haria con su parte del tesoro
(cuando lo tuviesen, lo que de momento no parecia tan imposible); y asi fueron
quedandose dormidos uno tras otro. Y esa fue la ultima vez que usaron los
poneys, los paquetes, equipajes, herramientas y todo lo que habian traido con
ellos.

No obstante, fue una suerte esa noche que hubiesen traido al pequeno Bilbo.
Porque, por alguna razon, Bilbo no pudo dormirse hasta muy tarde; y luego tuvo
unos suenos horribles. Sono que una grieta en la pared del fondo de la cueva se
agrandaba y se agrandaba, abriendose mas y mas; y el estaba muy asustado pero
no podia gritar, ni hacer otra cosa que seguir acostado, mirando. Despues soho
que el suelo de la cueva cedia, y que se deslizaba, y que el empezaba a caer, a
caer, quien sabe a donde.

En ese momento desperto con un horrible sobresalto y se encontro con que parte
del sueho era verdad. Una grieta se habia abierto al fondo de la cueva y era ya un
pasadizo ancho. Apenas si tuvo tiempo de ver la ultima de las colas de los poneys,
que desaparecia en la sombra. Por supuesto, lanzo un chillido estridente, tanto
como puede llegar a serlo un chillido de hobbit, bastante asombroso si tenemos en
cuenta el tamaho de estas criaturas.

Afuera saltaron los trasgos, trasgos grandes, trasgos enormes de cara fea,
montones de trasgos, antes que nadie pudiera decir "pehas y brehas". Habia por
lo menos seis para cada enano, y dos mas para Bilbo; y los apresaron a todos y
los llevaron por la hendedura, antes que nadie pudiera decir "madera y hoguera".
Pero no a Gandalf. Eso fue lo bueno del grito de Bilbo. Lo habia despertado por
completo en una decima de segundo y cuando los trasgos iban a ponerle las
manos encima, hubo un destello terrorifico como un relampago en la cueva, un
olor como de polvora, y varios cayeron muertos.

La grieta se cerro de golpe jy Bilbo y los enanos estaban en el lado equivocado!
^Donde se encontraba Gandalf? De eso ni ellos ni los trasgos tenian la menor
idea, y los trasgos no esperaron a averiguarlo. Tomaron a Bilbo y a los enanos, y
los hicieron andar a toda prisa. El sitio era profundo, profundo y oscuro, tanto que
solo los trasgos que habian tenido la ocurrencia de vivir en el corazon de las
montahas podian distinguir algo. Los pasadizos se cruzaban y confundian en
todas direcciones, pero los trasgos conocian el camino tan bien como vosotros el
de la oficina de correos mas proxima; y el camino descendia y descendia y la
atmosfera era cada vez mas enrarecida y horrorosa. Los trasgos eran muy brutos,
pellizcaban sin compasion, y reian entre dientes o a carcajadas, con voces
horribles y petreas; y Bilbo se sentia mas desgraciado aun que cuando el troll lo
habia levantado tirandole de los dedos de los pies. Una y otra vez se encontraba
ahorando el agradable y reluciente agujero hobbit. No seria esta la ultima ocasion.



39



De pronto aparecio ante ellos el resplandor de una luz roja. Los trasgos
empezaron a cantar, a croar, golpeteando los pies pianos sobre la piedra, y
sacudiendo tambien a los prisioneros.



jAzota! jVoltea! jl_a negra abertura!
jAtrapa, arrebata! jPellizca, apanusca!
jBajando, bajando, al pueblo de trasgos,
vas tu, muchacho!

jEmbute, golpea! jEstruja, revienta!
Martillo y tenaza! jBatintin y maza!
jMachaca, machaca, a los subterraneos!
ijo, jo, muchacho!

jLacera, apachurra! jChasquea los latigos!
jAulla y solloza! jSacude, aporrea!
jTrabaja, trabaja! jA huir no te atrevas,
mientras los trasgos beben y carcajean!
jRondando, rodando, por el subterraneo!
jAbajo, muchacho!

El canto era realmente terrorifico, las paredes resonaban con el jazota, volea! y
con el jestruja, revienta! y con la inquietante carcajada de los jjo, jo, muchacho! El
significado de la cancion era demasiado evidente; pues ahora los trasgos sacaron
los latigos y los azotaron con gritos de jlacera, apachurra!, haciendolos correr
delante tan rapido como les era posible; y mas de uno de los enanos estaba ya
desgahitandose con aullidos incomparables, cuando entraron todos a los
trompicones en una enorme caverna.

Estaba iluminada por una gran hoguera roja en el centro y por antorchas a lo largo
de las paredes, y habia alii muchos trasgos. Todos se reian, pateaban y batian
palmas, cuando los enanos (con el pobrecito Bilbo detras y mas al alcance de los
latigos) llegaron corriendo, mientras los trasgos que los arreaban daban gritos y
chasqueaban los latigos detras. Los poneys estaban ya agrupados en un rincon; y
alii tirados estaban todos los sacos y paquetes, rotos y abiertos, revueltos por
trasgos, y olidos por trasgos, y manoseados por trasgos, y disputados por trasgos.

Me temo que fue lo ultimo que vieron de aquellos excelentes poneys, incluyendo
un magnifico ejemplar bianco, pequeho y vigoroso, que Elrond habia prestado a



40



Gandalf, ya que el caballo no era apropiado para los senderos de la montana.
Porque los trasgos comen caballos y poneys y burros (y otras cosas mucho mas
espantosas), y siempre tienen hambre. Sin embargo, los prisioneros solo
pensaban ahora en si mismos. Los trasgos les encadenaron las manos a la
espalda y los unieron a todos en linea, y los arrastraron hasta el rincon mas lejano
de la caverna con el pequeno Bilbo remolcado al extremo de la hilera.

Alia, entre las sombras, sobre una gran piedra lisa, estaba sentado un trasgo
terrible de cabeza enorme, y unos trasgos armados permanecian de pie alrededor
blandiendo las hachas y las espadas curvas que ellos usan. Ahora bien, los
trasgos son crueles, malvados y de mal corazon. No hacen nada bonito, pero si
muchas cosas ingeniosas. Pueden excavar tuneles y minas tan bien como
cualquier enano no demasiado diestro, cuando se toman la molestia, aunque
comunmente son desaseados y sucios. Martillos, hachas, espadas, puhales, picos
y pinzas, y tambien instrumentos de tortura, los hacen muy bien, o consiguen que
otra gente los haga, prisioneros o esclavos obligados a trabajar hasta que mueren
por falta de aire y luz. Es probable que ellos hayan inventado algunas de las
maquinas que desde entonces preocupan al mundo, en especial ingeniosos
aparatos que matan enormes cantidades de gente de una vez, pues las ruedas y
los motores y las explosiones siempre les encantaron, como tambien no trabajar
con sus propias manos mas de lo indispensable; pero en aquellos dias, y en
aquellos parajes agrestes, no habian ido (como se dice) todavia tan lejos. No
odiaban especialmente a los enanos, no mas de lo que odiaban a todos y todo, y
particularmente lo metodico y prospero; en ciertos lugares unos enanos malvados
han llegado a pactar con ellos. Pero tenian particular aversion por la gente de
Thorin a causa de la guerra que habeis oido mencionar, pero que no viene a
cuento en esta historia; y de todos modos a los trasgos no les preocupa a quien
capturan, en tanto puedan dar el golpe en secreto y de un modo ingenioso, y los
prisioneros no sean capaces de defenderse.

— ^Quienes son esas miserables personas? — dijo el Gran Trasgo.

— jEnanos, y esto! — dijo uno de los captores, tirando de la cadena de Bilbo de tal
modo que el hobbit cayo delante de rodillas — . Los encontramos refugiados en
nuestro Porche Principal,

— «j,Que pretendiais? — dijo el Gran Trasgo volviendose hacia Thorin — . jNada
bueno, podria asegurarlo! jEspiar los asuntos privados de mis gentes, supongo!
jLadrones, no me sorprenderia saber que lo sois! jAsesinos y amigos de los elfos,
sin duda alguna! jVen! <j,Que tienes que decir?

— jThorin el enano a vuestro servicio! — replied Thorin: una mera naderia cortes —
De las cosas que sospechas e imaginas no tenemos la menor idea. Nos
resguardamos de una tormenta en lo que parecia una cueva comoda y no usada;
nada mas lejos de nuestro pensamiento que molestar de algun modo a los
trasgos. — jEsto era bastante cierto!

— jHum! — gruho el Gran Trasgo — . jEso es lo que dices! ^Podria preguntarte que
haciais alia arriba en las montahas, y de donde venis y adonde vais? En realidad
me gustaria saber todo sobre vosotros. No digo que pueda serviros de algo,



41



Thorin Escudo de Roble, ya se demasiado de tu gente; pero conozcamos de una
vez la verdad. jDe lo contrario preparare para vosotros algo particularmente
incomodo!

— (bamos de viaje a visitar a nuestros parientes, nuestros sobrinos y sobrinas, y
primeros, segundos y terceros primos, y otros descendientes de nuestros abuelos,
que viven del lado oriental de estas realmente hospitalarias montanas — respondio
Thorin, no sabiendo muy bien que decir asi de repente, pues era obvio que la
verdad exacta no vendria a cuento.

— jEs un mentiroso, oh tu en verdad el Terrible!

— dijo uno de los captores — . Varios de los nuestros fueron fulminados por un rayo
en la cueva cuando invitamos a estas criaturas a que bajaran, y estan tan muertos
como piedras. jTampoco nos ha explicado esto!

— Sostuvo en alto la espada que Thorin habia llevado, la espada que procedia del
cubil de los trolls.

El Gran Trasgo dio un aullido de rabia realmente horrible cuando vio la espada, y
todos los soldados crujieron los dientes, batieron los escudos, y patearon.
Reconocieron la espada al momento. En otro tiempo habia dado muerte a cientos
de trasgos, cuando tos elfos rubios de Gondolin los cazaron en las colinas o
combatieron al pie de las murallas. La habian denominado Orcrist, Hiende
Trasgos, pero los trasgos la llamaban simplemente Mordedora. La odiaban, y
odiaban todavia mas a cualquiera que la llevase.

— jAsesinos y amigos de los elfos! — grito el Gran Trasgo — . jAcuchilladlos!
jGolpeadlos! jMordedlos! jQue les rechinen los dientes! jLlevadlos a agujeros
oscuros repletos de viboras y que nunca vuelvan a ver la luz!



— Tenia tanta rabia que salto del asiento y se lanzo con la boca abierta hacia
Thorin.

Justo en ese momento todas las luces de la caverna se apagaron, y la gran
hoguera se convirtio, jpuf!, en una torre de resplandeciente humo azul que subia
hasta el techo, esparciendo penetrantes chispas blancas entre todos los trasgos.

Los gritos y lamentos, gruhidos, farfulleos y chapurreos, aullidos, alaridos y
maldiciones, chillidos y graznidos que siguieron entonces, eran indescriptibles.
Varios cientos de gatos salvajes y lobos asados vivos, todos juntos y despacio, no
hubieran hecho tanto alboroto. Las chispas ardian abriendo agujeros en los
trasgos, y el humo que ahora caia del techo oscurecia tanto el aire, que ni siquiera
ellos mismos podian ver. Pronto empezaron a caer unos sobre otros y a rodar en
montones por el suelo, mordiendo, pateando y peleando, como si todos se
hubieran vuelto locos.

De repente una espada destello con luz propia. Bilbo vio que atravesaba de lado a
lado al Gran Trasgo, mudo de asombro y furioso a la vez. Cayo muerto, y los
soldados trasgos, huyendo y gritando delante de la espada, desaparecieron en la
oscuridad.



42



La espada volvio a la vaina. — jSeguidme a prisa! — dijo una voz fiera y queda. Y
antes que Bilbo comprendiese lo que habia ocurrido, estaba ya trotando de nuevo,
tan rapido como podia, al final de la columna, bajando por mas pasadizos oscuros
mientras los alaridos del salon de los trasgos quedaban atras, cada vez mas
debiles. Una luz palida los guiaba.

— jMas rapido, mas rapido! — decia la voz — . Pronto volveran a encender las
antorchas.

— jEspera un momento! — dijo Dori, que estaba detras, al lado de Bilbo, y era un
excelente companero. Como mejor pudo, con las manos atadas, consiguio que el
hobbit se le subiera a los hombros, y luego echaron todos a correr, con un tintineo
de cadenas y mas de un tropezon, ya que no tenian manos para sostenerse. No
se detuvieron por un largo rato, cuando ya estaban sin duda en el corazon mismo
de la montana.



Entonces Gandalf encendio la vara. Por supuesto, era Gandalf; pero en ese
momento todos estaban demasiado ocupados para preguntar como habia llegado
alii. Volvio a sacar la espada, y una vez mas la hoja destello en la oscuridad; ardia
con una furia centelleante si habia trasgos alrededor, y ahora brillaba como una
llama azul por el deleite de haber matado al gran sehor de la cueva. No le costo
nada cortar las cadenas de los trasgos y liberar lo mas rapido posible a todos los
prisioneros. El nombre de esta espada, recordareis, era Glamdrin, Manilla
Enemigos. Los trasgos la llamaban simplemente Demoledora, y la odiaban, si eso
es posible, todavia mas que a Mordedora. Tambien Orcrist habia sido salvada,
pues Gandalf se la habia arrebatado a uno de los guardias aterrorizados. Gandalf
pensaba en todo; y aunque no podia hacer cualquier cosa, ayudaba siempre a los
amigos en aprietos,

— ^Estamos todos aqui? — dijo, entregando la espada a Thorin con una
reverencia — . Veamos: uno, Thorin; dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, ocho,
nueve, diez, once. ^Donde estan Fili y Kili? jAqui! Doce, trece... y he ahi al sehor
Bolson: jcatorce! jBien, bien! Podria ser peor, y sin embargo podria ser mucho
mejor. Sin poneys, y sin comida, y sin saber muy bien donde estamos, jy unas
hordas de trasgos furiosos justo detras! jSigamos adelante!

Siguieron adelante. Gandalf estaba en lo cierto: se oyeron ruidos de trasgos y
unos gritos horribles alia detras a lo lejos, en los pasadizos que habian
atravesado, Se apresuraron entonces todavia mas, y como el pobre Bilbo no podia
seguirles el paso — pues los enanos son capaces de correr mas deprisa, os lo
aseguro, cuando tienen que hacerlo — se turnaron llevandolo a hombros.

Sin embargo los trasgos corren mas que los enanos, y estos trasgos conocian
mejor el camino (ellos mismos habian abierto los tuneles), y estaban locos de
furia; asi que hiciesen lo que hiciesen, los enanos oian los gritos y aullidos que se
acercaban cada vez mas. Muy pronta alcanzaron a oir el ruido de los pies de los
trasgos, muchos, muchos pies que parecian estar a la vuelta del ultimo recodo. El
destello de las antorchas rojas podia verse detras de ellos en el tunel; y ya
empezaban a sentirse muertos de cansancio.



43



— jPor que, oh por que habre dejado mi agujero — hobbit! — decia el pobre sehor
Bolson, mientras se sacudia hacia arriba y abajo sobre el pobre sehor Bolson,
mientras se sacudia hacia arriba y abajo sobre la espalda de Bombur.

— jPor que, oh por que habre traido a este pobrecito hobbit, a buscar el tesoro! —
decia el desdichado Bombur que era gordo, y se bamboleaba mientras el sudor le
caia en gotas de la nariz a causa del calor y el terror,

En aquel momento Gandalf se retraso, y Thorin con el. Doblaron un recodo
cerrado. — jEstan a la vuelta! — grito el mago — . jDesenvaina tu espada, Thorin!

No habia mas que hacer, y a los trasgos no les gusto. Venian corriendo a toda
prisa y dando gritos, y al llegar al recodo tropezaron atonitos con la Hiende
Trasgos y la Martilla Enemigos que brillaban Mas y luminosas. Los que iban
delante arrojaron las antorchas y dieron un alarido antes de morir. Los de atras
aullaban siguiendolos. — jMordedora y Demoledora! — chillaron; y pronto todos
estuvieron envueltos en una completa confusion, y la mayoria se apresuro a
regresar por donde habia venido.

Paso bastante tiempo antes que cualquiera de ellos se atreviese a doblar aquel
recodo. Mientras, los enanos se habian puesto otra vez en marcha, siguiendo un
largo camino que los llevaba a los tuneles oscuros del pais de los trasgos. Cuando
los trasgos se dieron cuenta, apagaron las antorchas y se deslizaron pisando con
cuidado, y eligieron a los corredores mas veloces, aquellos que tenian oidos como
comadrejas en la oscuridad, y eran casi tan silenciosos como murcielagos.

Asi ocurrio que ni Bilbo, ni los enanos, ni siquiera Gandalf, los oyeron llegar, ni
tampoco los vieron. Pero los trasgos los vieron a ellos, pues la vara de Gandalf
emitia una luz debil que ayudaba a los enanos a encontrar el camino.

De repente Dori, que ahora otra vez coma a la cola llevando a Bilbo, fue aferrado
por detras en la oscuridad. Grito y cayo; y el hobbit rodo de los hombros de Dori a
la negrura, se golpeo la cabeza contra una piedra, y no recordo nada mas.

ACERTIJOS EN LAS TINIEBLAS

Cuando Bilbo abrio los ojos, se pregunto si en verdad los habria abierto; pues todo
estaba tan oscuro como si los tuviese cerrados. No habia nadie cerca, de el.
jlmaginaos que terror! No podia ver nada, ni oir nada, ni sentir nada, excepto la
piedra del suelo.

Se incorporo muy lentamente y anduvo a tientas hasta tropezar con la pared del
tunel; pero ni hacia arriba ni hacia abajo pudo encontrar nada, nada en absoluto, ni
rastro de trasgos o enanos. La cabeza le daba vueltas y ni siquiera podia decir en
que direccion habrian ido los otros cuando cayo de bruces. Trato de orientarse de
algun modo, y se arrastro largo trecho hasta que de pronto toco con la mano algo
que parecia un anillo pequeho, trio y metalico, en el suelo del tunel. Este iba a ser
un momento decisivo en la carrera de Bilbo, pero el no lo sabia. Casi sin darse
cuenta se metio la sortija en el bolsillo. Por cierto, no parecia tener ninguna utilidad
por ahora. No avanzo mucho mas; se sento en el suelo helado, abandonandose a



44



un completo abatimiento. Se imaginaba friendo huevos y panceta en la cocina de
su propia casa — pues alcanzaba a sentir, dentro de el, que era la hora de alguna
comida — , pero esto solo lo hacia mas miserable.

No sabia a donde ir, ni que habia ocurrido, ni por que lo habian dejado atras, o por
que, si lo habian dejado atras, los trasgos no lo habian capturado; no sabia ni
siquiera por que tenia la cabeza tan dolorida. La verdad es que habia estado
mucho tiempo tendido y quieto, invisible y olvidado en un rincon muy oscuro.

Al cabo de un rato se palpo las ropas buscando la pipa. No estaba rota, y eso era
algo. Busco luego la petaca, y habia algun tabaco, lo que ya era algo mas, y luego
busco las cerillas y no encontro ninguna, y esto lo desanimo por completo. Solo el
cielo sabe que cosa hubiera podido caer sobre el atraida por el roce de las cerillas
y el olor del tabaco. Pero por ahora se sentia muy abatido. No obstante,
rebuscando en los bolsillos y palpandose de arriba a abajo en busca de cerillas,
topo con la empuhadura de la pequeha espada, la daga que habia obtenido de los
trolls y que casi habia olvidado; por fortuna, tampoco los trasgos la habian
descubierto, pues la llevaba dentro de los calzones.

Entonces la desenvaino. La espada brillo palida y debil ante los ojos de Bilbo. "Asi
que es una hoja de los elfos, tambien" penso, "y los trasgos no estan muy cerca,
aunque tampoco bastante lejos."

Pero de alguna manera se sintio reconfortado. Era bastante bueno llevar una hoja
forjada en Gondolin para las guerras de los trasgos de las que habia cantado
tantas canciones; y tambien habia notado que esas armas causaban gran
impresion entre los trasgos que tropezaban con ellas de improviso.

"^Volver?" penso. "No sirve de nada. <j,ir por algun camino lateral? jlmposible! <j,lr
hacia adelante? jNo hay alternativa! jAdelante pues!" Y se incorporo y troto
llevando la espada alzada frente a el, una mano en la pared y el corazon
palpitando.

Era evidente que Bilbo se encontraba en lo que puede llamarse un sitio estrecho.
Pero recordad que no era tan estrecho para el como lo habria sido para vosotros o
para mi. Los hobbits no se parecen mucho a la gente ordinaria, y aunque sus
agujeros son unas viviendas muy agradables y acogedoras, adecuadamente
ventiladas, muy distintas de los tuneles de los trasgos, estan mas acostumbrados
que nosotros a andar por galenas, y no pierden facilmente el sentido de la
orientation bajo tierra, no cuando ya se han recobrado de un golpe en el craneo.
Tambien pueden moverse muy en silencio y esconderse con rapidez; se
recuperan de un modo maravilloso de caidas y magulladuras, y tienen un fondo de
prudencia y unos dichos juiciosos que la mayoria de los hombres no ha oido
nunca o ha olvidado hace tiempo,

De cualquier modo no me hubiera sentido a gusto en el sitio donde estaba el sehor
Bilbo. La galena parecia no tener fin. Todo lo que el sabia era que seguia bajando,
siempre en la misma direction, a pesar de un recodo y una o dos vueltas. Habia
pasadizos que partian de los lados aqui y alia, como podia saber por el brillo de la
espada, o podia sentir con la mano en la pared. No les presto atencion, pero
apresuraba el paso por temor a los trasgos o a cosas oscuras imaginadas a



45



medias que asomaban en las bocas de los pasadizos. Adelante y adelante siguio,
bajando y bajando; y toda via no se oia nada, excepto el zumbido ocasional de un
murcielago que se le acercaba, asustandolo en un principio, pero que luego se
repitio tanto que el dejo de preocuparse. No se cuanto tiempo continuo asi,
odiando seguir adelante, no atreviendose a parar, adelante y adelante, hasta que
estuvo mas cansado que cansado. Parecia que el camino continuaria asi al dia
siguiente y mas alia, perdiendose en los dias que vendrian despues.

De pronto, sin ningun aviso, se encontro trotando en un agua fria como hielo. jUf!
Esto lo reanimo, rapida y bruscamente. No sabia si el agua era solo un estanque
en medio del camino, la orilla de un arroyo que cruzaba el tunel bajo tierra, o el
borde del lago subterraneo, oscuro y profundo. La espada apenas brillaba. Se
detuvo, y escuchando con atencion alcanzo a oir unas gotas que caian desde un
techo invisible en el agua de abajo; pero no parecia haber ningun otro tipo de
ruido.

"De modo que es un lago o un pozo, y no un no subterraneo" penso. Aun asi no
se atrevio a meterse en el agua a oscuras. No sabia nadar, y ademas pensaba en
las criaturas barrosas y repugnantes, de ojos saltones y ciegos, que culebreaban
sin duda en el agua. Hay extranos seres que viven en pozos y lagos en el corazon
de los montes; pero cuyos antepasados llegaron nadando, solo el cielo sabe hace
cuanto tiempo, y nunca volvieron a salir, y los ojos les crecian, crecian y crecian
mientras trataban de ver en la oscuridad; y alii hay tambien criaturas mas viscosas
que peces. Aun en los tuneles y cuevas que los trasgos habian excavado para si
mismos, hay otras cosas vivas que ellos desconocen, cosas que han venido
arrastrandose desde fuera para descansar en la oscuridad. Ademas, los origenes
de algunos de estos tuneles se remontan a epocas anteriores a los trasgos,
quienes solo los ampliaron y unieron con pasadizos, y los primeros propietarios
estan todavia alii, en raros rincones, deslizandose y olfateando todo alrededor.

Aqui abajo junto al agua lobrega vivia el viejo Gollum, una pequeha y viscosa
criatura. No se de donde habia venido, ni quien o que era. Era Gollum: tan oscuro
como la oscuridad, excepto dos grandes ojos redondos y palidos en la cara flaca.
Tenia un pequeho bote y remaba muy en silencio por el lago, pues lago era,
ancho, profundo y mortalmente frio. Remaba con los grandes pies colgando sobre
la borda, pero nunca agitaba el agua. No el. Los ojos palidos e inexpresivos
buscaban peces ciegos alrededor, y los atrapaba con los dedos largos, rapidos
como el pensamiento. Le gustaba tambien la carne. Los trasgos le parecian
buenos, cuando podia echarles mano; pero trataba de que nunca lo encontraran
desprevenido. Los estrangulaba por la espalda si alguna vez bajaba uno de ellos
hasta la orilla del agua, mientras el rondaba en busca de una presa. Rara vez lo
hacian, pues tenian el presentimiento de que algo desagradable acechaba en las
profundidades, debajo de la raiz misma de la montaha. Cuando excavaban los
tuneles, tiempo atras, habian llegado hasta el lago y descubrieron que no podian ir
mas lejos. De modo que para ellos el camino terminaba en esa direccion, y de
nada les valia merodear por alii, a menos que el Gran Trasgo los enviase. A veces
tenian la ocurrencia de buscar peces en el lago, y a veces ni el trasgo ni el
pescado volvian.



46



Gollum vivia en verdad en una isla de roca barrosa en medio del lago. Observaba
a Bilbo desde lejos con los ojos palidos como telescopios. Bilbo no podia verlo,
mientras Gollum lo miraba, perplejo; parecia evidente que no era un trasgo.

Gollum se metio en el bote y se alejo de la isla. Bilbo, sentado a orillas del agua,
se sentia desconcertado, como si hubiese perdido el camino y el juicio. De pronto
asomo Gollum, que cuchicheo y siseo:

— jBendicenos y salpicanos, preciosso mio! Me huelo un banquete selecto; por lo
menos nos daria para un sabroso bocado jGollum! — Y cuando dijo Gollum hizo
con la garganta un ruido horrible como si engullera. Y asi fue como le dieron ese
nombre, aunque el siempre se llamaba a si mismo "preciosso mio".

El hobbit dio un brinco cuando oyo el siseo, y de repente vio los ojos palidos
clavados en el.

— ^Quien eres? — pregunto, adelantando la espada.

— «j,Que ess el, preciosso mio? — susurro Gollum (que siempre se hablaba a si
mismo, porque no tenia a ningun otro con quien hablar). Eso era lo que queria
descubrir, pues en verdad no tenia mucha hambre, solo curiosidad; de otro modo
hubiese estrangulado primero y susurrado despues.

— Soy el sehor Bilbo Bolson. He perdido a los enanos y al mago y no se donde
estoy, y tampoco quiero saberlo, si pudiera salir.

— «j,Que tiene el en las manoss? — dijo Gollum mirando la espada, que no le
gustaba mucho.

— jllna espada, una hoja nacida en Gondolin!

— Sss — dijo Gollum, y en un tono mas cortes: — Quiza se siente aqui y charle
conmigo un rato, preciosso mio. ^Le gustan los acertijos? Quiza si, <j,no? — Estaba
ansioso por parecer amable, al menos por un rato, y hasta que supiese algo mas
sobre la espada y el hobbit: si realmente estaba solo, si era bueno para comer, y si
Gollum mismo tenia mucha hambre.

Acertijos era todo en lo que podia pensar. Proponerlos y alguna vez encontrar la
solution habia sido el unico entretenimiento que habia compartido con otras
alegres criaturas, sentadas en sus agujeros, hacia muchos, muchos ahos, antes
de quedarse sin amigos y de que lo echasen, solo, y se arrastrara descendiendo y
descendiendo, a la oscuridad bajo las montahas.

— Muy bien — dijo Bilbo, muy dispuesto a mostrarse de acuerdo hasta descubrir
algo mas acerca de la criatura: si habia venido sola, si estaba furiosa o
hambrienta, y si era amiga de los trasgos.

— Tu preguntas primero — dijo, pues no habia tenido tiempo de pensar en un
acertijo. Asi que Gollum siseo:



Las raices no se ven,

y es mas alta que un arbol,

47



Arriba y arriba sube,
y sin embargo no crece.

— jFacil! — dijo Bilbo — . Una montana, supongo.

— ^Lo adivino facilmente? jTendria que competir con nosotros, preciosso mio! Si
preciosso pregunta y el no responde, nos lo comemos, preciosso mio. Si el
pregunta y no contestamos, haremos lo que el quiera, ^eh? jl_e ensenamos el
camino de la salida, si!

— De acuerdo — dijo Bilbo, no atreviendose a discrepar y con el cerebro casi
estallandole mientras pensaba en un acertijo que pudiese cerebro casi
estallandole mientras pensaba en un acertijo que pudiese salvarlo de la olla.

Treinta caballos blancos
en una sierra colorada.
Primero mordisquean,
y luego machacan,
y luego descansan.



Eso era todo lo que se le ocurria preguntar; la idea de comer le daba vueltas en la
cabeza. Era ademas un acertijo bastante viejo, y Gollum conocia la respuesta tan
bien como vosotros.

— Chiste viejo, chiste viejo — susurro — . jLos dientes, los dientes, preciosso mio!
jPero solo tenemos seis! — En seguida propuso una segunda adivinanza.



Canta sin voz,
vuela sin alas,
sin dientes muerde,
sin boca habla.



— jUn momento! — grito Bilbo, incomodo, pensando aun en cosas que se comfan.
Por fortuna una vez habia oido algo semejante, y recobrando el ingenio, penso en
la respuesta — . El viento, el viento, naturalmente — dijo, y quedo tan complacido
que invento en el acto otro acertijo. "Esto confundira a esta asquerosa criaturita
subterranea", penso,



Un ojo en la cara azul



48



vio un ojo en la cara verde.
"Ese ojo es como este. ojo",
dijo el ojo primero,
"pero en lugares bajos,
y no en lugares altos".



— Ss, ss, ss — dijo Gollum. Habia estado bajo tierra mucho tiempo, y estaba
olvidando esa clase de cosas. Pero cuando Bilbo ya esperaba que el desdichado
no podria responder, Gollum saco a relucir recuerdos de tiempos y tiempos y
tiempos atras, cuando vivia con su abuela en un agujero a orillas de un no — . Ss,
ss, ss, preciosso mio — dijo — . Quiere decir el sol sobre las margaritas, eso quiere
decir.

Pero estos acertijos sobre las cosas cotidianas al aire libre lo fatigaban. Le
recordaban tambien los dias en que aun no era una criatura tan solitaria y furtiva y
repugnante, y lo sacaban de quicio. Mas aun, le daban hambre, asi que esta vez
penso en algo un poco mas desagradable y dificil.



No puedes verla ni sentirla,
y ocupa todos los huecos:
no puedes olerla ni oirla,
esta detras de los astros,
y esta al pie de las colinas,
Mega primero, y se queda;
mala risas y acaba vidas.



Para desgracia de Gollum, Bilbo habia oido algo parecido antes, y de cualquier
modo la respuesta fue rotunda. — jl_a oscuridadj — dijo, sin ni siquiera rascarse la
cabeza o ponerse la gorra de pensar.



Caja sin Have,
tapa o bisagras,
pero dentro un tesoro
dorado guarda.



Bilbo pregunto para ganar tiempo, hasta que pudiese pensar algo mas dificil.
Creyo que era un acertijo asombrosamente viejo y facil, aunque no con estas



49



mismas palabras, pero resulto ser un horrible problema para Gollum. Siseaba
entre dientes, sin encontrar la respuesta, murmurando y farfullando.

Al cabo de un rato Bilbo empezo a impacientarse.

— Bueno, <j,que es? — pregunto. La respuesta no es una marmita hirviendo, como
pareces creer, por el ruido que haces.

— Una oportunidad, que nos de una oportunidad, preciosso mio... ss... ss...

— jBien! — dijo Bilbo tras esperar largo rato — iQue hay de tu respuesta?

Pero de subito Gollum se vio robando en tos nidos, hacia mucho tiempo, y
sentado en el barranco del no ensehando a su abuela, ensehando a su abuela a
sorber... — jHuevoss! — siseo — jHuevoss, eso es! — y en seguida pregunto:

Todos viven sin aliento;
y frios como los muertos,
nunca con sed, siempre bebiendo,
todos en malla, siempre en silencio.

El propio Gollum se dijo que la adivinanza era asombrosamente facil, pues el
pensaba dia y noche en la respuesta. Pero por el momento no se le ocurrio nada
mejor, tan aturdido estaba aun por la cuestion del huevo. De cualquier modo fue
todo un problema para Bilbo, quien nunca habia tenido nada que ver con el agua
si podia evitarlo. Imagino que ya sabeis la respuesta, no lo dudo, o que podeis
adivinarla en un abrir y cerrar de ojos, ya que estais comodamente sentados en
casa, y el peligro de ser comidos no turba vuestros pensamientos. Bilbo se sento y
carraspeo una o dos veces, pero la respuesta no llego.

Al cabo Gollum se puso a sisear entre dientes, complacido. — «j,Es agradable,
preciosso mio? <j,Es jugoso? ^Cruje de rechupete? — Espio a Bilbo en la
oscuridad.

— Un momento — dijo Bilbo temblando de miedo — Yo te he dado una buena
oportunidad hace poco.

— jTiene que darse prisa, darse prisa! — dijo Gollum, comenzando a pasar del bote
a la orilla para acercarse a Bilbo. Pero cuando puso en el agua las patas grandes
y membranosas, un pez salto espantado y cayo sobre los pies de Bilbo.

— i Uf ! — dijo — jque frio y pegajoso! — y asi acerto — . jUn pez, un pez! — grito — .
jEs un pez!

Gollum quedo horriblemente desilusionado; pero Bilbo pregunto otro acertijo tan
rapido como pudo, y Gollum tuvo que volver al bote y pensar.

Sin-piernas se apoya en una pierna;



50



Dos-piernas se sienta cerca de tres piernas,
y cuatro-piernas consiguio algo.



No era realmente el momento apropiado para este acertijo pero Bilbo estaba en un
apuro. A Gollum le habria costado bastante acertar si Bilbo lo hubiera preguntado
en otra ocasion. Tal como ocurrio, hablando de peces, "sin piernas" no parecia
muy dificil, y el resto fue obvio. "Un pez sobre una mesa pequena, un hombre a la
mesa, y el gato que consigue las espinas." Esa era la respuesta por supuesto, y
Gollum la encontro pronto. Entonces penso que ya era momento de preguntar algo
horrible y dificil. Esto fue lo que dijo:



Devora todas las cosas:
aves, bestias, plantas y. flores;
roe el hierro, muerde el acero,
y pulveriza la peha compacta;
mata reyes, arruina ciudades
y derriba las altas montahas.

El pobre Bilbo sentado en la oscuridad penso en todos los horribles nombres de
gigantes y ogros que alguna vez habia oido en los cuentos, pero ninguno hacia
todas esas cosas. Tenia el presentimiento de que la respuesta era muy diferente y
que la sabia de algun modo, pero no era capaz de ponerse a pensar. Empezo a
sentir miedo, y esto es malo para pensar. Gollum salio entonces del bote. Salto al
agua y avanzo hacia la orilla. Bilbo alcanzaba a ver los ojos que se acercaban. La
lengua parecia habersele pegado al paladar; queria gritar:

jDame tiempo! Pero todo lo que salio en un subito chillido fue:

— jTiempo! jTiempo!

Bilbo se salvo por pura suerte. Pues naturalmente esta era la respuesta.

Gollum quedo otra vez desilusionado; ahora estaba enojandose y cansandose del
juego. Le habia dado mucha hambre en verdad, y no volvio al bote. Se sento en la
oscuridad junto a Bilbo. Esto incomodo todavia mas al hobbit y le nublo el ingenio.

— Ahora el tiene que hacernos una pregunta, preciosso mio, si, ssi, ssi. Una
pregunta mass para acertar, si, ssi — dijo Gollum.

Pero Bilbo no podia pensar en ningun acertijo con aquella cosa asquerosamente
fria y humeda al lado, sobandolo y empujandolo. Se rascaba, se pellizcaba; y
seguia sin poder pensar.



51



— jPreguntenos! jPreguntenos! — decia Gollum. Bilbo se pellizcaba y se
palmoteaba; aferro la espada con una mano y tanteo el bolsillo con la otra. Alii
encontro el anillo que habia recogido en el tunel, y que habia olvidado.

— <j,Que tengo en el bolsillo? — dijo, en voz alta. Hablaba consigo mismo, pero
Gollum creyo que era un acertijo y se sintio terriblemente desconcertado.

— jNo vale! jNo vale! — siseo — . ^No es cierto que no vale, preciosso mio,
preguntarnos que tiene en los asquerosos bolsillitos?

Bilbo, viendo lo que habia pasado y no teniendo nada mejor que decir, repitio la
pregunta en voz mas alta; — iQue hay en mis bolsillos?

— Sss — siseo Gollum — Tiene que darnos tres Oportunidades, preciosso mio,
tress oportunidadess.

— jDe acuerdo! jAdivina! — dijo Bilbo.

— jLas manoss! — dijo Gollum.

— Falso — dijo Bilbo, quien por fortuna habia retirado la mano otra vez — . jPrueba
de nuevo!

— Sss — dijo Gollum mas desconcertado que nunca. Penso en todas las cosas que
el llevaba en los bolsillos; espinas de pescado, dientes de trasgos, conchas
mojadas, un trozo de ala de murcielago, una piedra aguzada para afilarse los
colmillos, y otras cosas repugnantes, Intento pensar en lo que otra gente podia
llevar en los bolsillos.

— jUn cuchillo! — dijo al fin.

— jFalso! — dijo Bilbo, que habia perdido el suyo hacia tiempo — . jUltima
oportunidad!

Ahora Gollum se sentia mucho peor que cuando Bilbo le habia planteado el
acertijo del huevo. Siseo, farfullo y se balanceo adelante y atras, golpeteando el
suelo con los pies, y se meneo y retorcio; sin embargo no se decidia, no queria
echar a perder esa ultima oportunidad.

— jVamos! — dijo Bilbo — . jEstoy esperando! — Trato de parecer valiente y jovial,
pero no estaba muy seguro de como terminaria el juego, ya Gollum acertase o no.

— jSe acabo el tiempo! — dijo.

— jUna cuerda o nada! — chillo Gollum, quien no respetaba del todo las reglas,
respondiendo dos cosas a la vez,

— jLas dos mal! — grito Bilbo, mucho mas aliviado; e incorporandose de un salto,
se apoyo de espaldas en la pared mas proxima y desenvaino la pequeha espada.
Naturalmente, sabia que el torneo de las adivinanzas era sagrado y de una
antiguedad inmensa, y que aun las criaturas malvadas temian hacer trampas
mientras jugaban. Pero sentia tambien que no podia confiar en que aquella
criatura viscosa mantuviera una promesa.

Cualquier excusa le pareceria apropiada para eludirla. Y al fin y al cabo la ultima
pregunta no habia sido un acertijo genuino de acuerdo con las leyes ancestrales.



52



Pero sin embargo Gollum no lo ataco en seguida. Miraba la espada que Bilbo
tenia en la mano. Se quedo sentado, susurrando y estremeciendose. Al fin, Bilbo
no pudo esperar mas.

— Y bien — dijo — , <j,que hay de tu promesa? Me quiero ir; tienes que ensenarme el
camino.

— ^Dijimos eso, preciosso? Mostrarle la salida al pequeno y asqueroso Bolson, si,
si. Pero, <j,que tiene el en los bolsilloss? jNi cuerda, preciosso, ni nada! jOh, no!
jGollum!

— No te importa — dijo Bilbo — , una promesa es una promesa.

— Vaya, jque prisa! jlmpaciente, preciosso! — siseo Gollum — , pero tiene que
esperar, si. No podemos subir por los pasadizos tan de prisa; primero tenemos
que recoger algunas cosas antes, si, cosas que nos ayuden.

— jBien, apresurate! — dijo Bilbo, aliviado al pensar que Gollum se marchaba.
Creia que solo se estaba excusando, y que no pensaba volver. ^De que hablaba
Gollum? «j,Que cosa util podia guardar en el lago oscuro? Pero se equivocaba.
Gollum pensaba volver. Estaba enfadado ahora y hambriento. Y era una miserable
y malvada criatura y ya tenia un plan.

No muy lejos estaba su isla, de la que Bilbo nada sabia; y alii, en un escondrijo,
guardaba algunas sobras miserables y una cosa muy hermosa, muy maravillosa.
Tenia un anillo, un anillo de oro, un anillo precioso.

— i Mi regalo de cumpleahos! — murmuraba, como habia hecho a menudo en los
oscuros dias interminables — . Eso es lo que ahora queremoss, si, jlo queremoss!

Lo queria porque era un anillo de poder, y si os lo poniais en el dedo, erais
invisibles. Solo a la plena luz del sol podrian veros, y solo por la sombra,
temblorosa y tenue.

— i Mi regalo de cumpleahos! jLlego a mi el dia de mi cumpleahos, preciosso mio!
— Asi monologaba Gollum. Pero nadie sabe como Gollum habia conseguido aquel
regalo, hacia siglos, en los viejos dias, cuando tales anillos abundaban en el
mundo. Quiza ni el propio Amo que los gobernaba a todos podia decirlo. Al
principio Gollum solia llevarlo puesto hasta que le canso, y desde entonces lo
guardo en una bolsa pegada al cuerpo, hasta que le lastimo la piel, y desde
entonces lo tuvo escondido en una roca de la isla, y siempre volvia a mirarlo. Y
aun a veces se lo ponia, cuando no aguantaba estar lejos de el ni un momento
mas, o cuando estaba muy, muy hambriento, y harto de pescado. Entonces se
arrastraba por pasadizos oscuros, en busca de trasgos extraviados. Se
aventuraba incluso en sitios donde habia antorchas encendidas que lo hacian
parpadear y le irritaban los ojos. Estaba seguro, oh, si, muy seguro. Nadie lo veia,
nadie notaba que estaba alii hasta que les apretaba la garganta con las manos. Lo
habia llevado puesto, hacia solo unas pocas horas y habia capturado un pequeno
trasgo. jComo habia chillado! Aun le quedaban uno o dos huesos por roer, pero
deseaba algo mas tierno.



53



— Muy seguro, si — se decia — . No nos vera, ^verdad, preciosso mio? No, y la
asquerosa espadita sera inutil, jsi, bastante inutil!

Eso es lo que escondia en su pequena mollera malvada mientras se apartaba
bruscamente de Bilbo y chapoteaba hacia el bote, perdiendose en la oscuridad.
Bilbo creyo que nunca lo volveria a oir; aun asi, espero un rato, pues no tenia idea
de como encontrar solo el camino de salida.

De pronto, oyo un chillido. Un escalofrio le bajo por la espalda. Gollum maldecia y
se lamentaba en las tinieblas, no muy lejos. Estaba en su isla, revolviendo aqui y
alia, buscando y rebuscando en vano.

— ^Donde esta? ^Donde esta? — sollozaba — . Sse ha perdido, precioso mio,
iperdido, perdido! jMaldiganos y aplastenos, mi precioso, se ha perdido!

— <j,Que pasa? — pregunto Bilbo — . <j,Que has perdida?

— No tiene que preguntarnos, no es asunto ssuyo, jno, Gollum! — chillo Gollum — ,
perdido, perdido, Gollum, Gollum, Gollum.

— Bueno, yo tambien me he perdido y quiero saber donde estoy. Gane la pugna y
tu hiciste una promesa. Asi que jadelante! jVen y conduceme fuera, y luego, sigue
buscando! — Aunque Gollum parecia inconsolable, Bilbo no lo compadecia
demasiado, tenia la impresion de que una cosa que Gollum queria tanto no podia
ser nada bueno. — jVamos! — grito.

— jNo, aun no, precioso! — respondio Gollum — . Tenemos que buscarlo pues se
ha perdido, jGollum!

— Pero no acertaste mi ultima pregunta e hiciste una promesa, — dijo Bilbo.

— i Nunca lo — imagine! — dijo Gollum. De repente un agudo siseo broto de la
oscuridad — . «j,Que tiene en los bolsilloss? Que nos lo diga. Primero tiene que
decirlo.

Hasta donde Bilbo sabia, no habia ninguna razon particular para no decirselo. Mas
rapida que la suya, la mente de Gollum habia cazado en el aire un presentimiento;
pues durante siglos habia estado preocupada por esa sola cosa, temiendo
siempre que se la quitaran. Pero la demora impacientaba a Bilbo. Al fin y al cabo,
habia ganado el juego, con bastante limpieza, y corriendo un riesgo terrible. — Las
preguntas eran para acertar, no para decirlas — dijo.

— Pero no fue juego limpio — dijo Gollum — , No era un acertijo, precioso, no.

— jOh, bien!, si se trata de preguntas corrientes yo he hecho una antes —
respondio Bilbo — . «j,Que has perdido, quieres decirme?

— «j,Que tiene en los bolsilloss? — El sonido llego siseando mas agudo y fuerte, y
como Gollum estaba mirandolo, Bilbo vio alarmado dos pequehos puntos de luz
que lo observaban. A medida que la sospecha crecia en la mente de Gollum, la luz
le ardia en los ojos con una llama descolorida.

— «j,Que has perdido? — insistio Bilbo.



54

_________________
The Flesh of Fallen Angels! Come to me all! Asteroth,

Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Bapholada, Lucifer, Loki, Satan,

Cthulhu, Lilith, Della! Blood, to you all!

I'm the wolf, yeah!
I am the wolf! It's close, it's coming. You have come.
The witness to the end, of time. It's now! I will rise to
her side! I don't need the words!
I'm beyond the words!
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Post Re: POST, POST LIKE YOU NEVER POSTED BEFORE!
EL HOBBIT

J.R.R. TOLKIEN



l>M-NF&m
l>MKM-F-tM.WWvl*Xm

Esta es una historia de hace mucho tiempo. En esa epoca los lenguajes eran
bastante distintos de los de hoy... Las runas eran letras que en un principio se
escribian mediante cortes o incisiones en madera, piedra, o metal. En los dias de
este relato los Enanos las utilizaban con regularidad, especialmente en registros
privados o secretos. Si las runas del Mapa de Thror son comparadas con las
transcripciones en letras modernas, no sera dificil reconstruir el alfabeto (adaptado
al ingles actual), y sera posible leer el titulo runico de esta pagina. Desde un
margen del mapa una mano apunta a la puerta secreta, y debajo esta escrito:



Las dos ultimas runas son las iniciales de Thror y Thrain. Las runas lunares leidas
por Elrond eran:



N-t>M-ilMTTISiiri*-rit>4>M-rRilT-riXHT-FF-MhRltH.MI%

nrr»>tHitM.rii:p+4'M*hMteNF : rM*

En el Mapa los puntos cardinales estan sehalados con runas, con el Este arriba,
como es comun en los mapas de enanos y han de leerse en el sentido de las
manecillas de reloj: Este, Sur, Oeste, Norte.



UNA TERTULIA INESPERADA

En un agujero en el suelo, vivia un hobbit. No un agujero humedo, sucio,
repugnante, con restos de gusanos y olor a fango, ni tampoco un agujero seco,
desnudo y arenoso, sin nada en que sentarse o que comer: era un agujero-hobbit,
y eso significa comodidad.

Tenia una puerta redonda, perfecta como un ojo de buey, pintada de verde, con
una manilla de bronce dorada y brillante, justo en el medio. La puerta se abria a un
vestibulo cilindrico, como un tunel: un tunel muy comodo, sin numos, con paredes
revestidas de madera y suelos enlosados y alfombrados, provisto de sillas
barnizadas, y montones y montones de perchas para sombreros y abrigos; el
hobbit era aficionado a las visitas. El tunel se extendia serpeando, y penetraba
bastante, pero no directamente, en la ladera de la colina — La Colina, como la
llamaba toda la gente de muchas millas alrededor — , y muchas puertecitas
redondas se abrian en el, primero a un lado y luego al otro. Nada de subir
escaleras para el hobbit: dormitorios, cuartos de baho, bodegas, despensas
(muchas), armarios (habitaciones enteras dedicadas a ropa), cocinas. Comedores,
se encontraban en la misma planta, y en verdad en el mismo pasillo. Las mejores
habitaciones estaban todas a la izquierda de la puerta principal, pues eran las
unicas que tenian ventanas, ventanas redondas, profundamente excavadas, que
miraban al jardin y los prados de mas alia, camino del no.

Este hobbit era un hobbit acomodado, y se apellidaba Bolson. Los Bolson habian
vivido en las cercanias de La Colina desde hacia muchisimo tiempo, y la gente los
consideraba muy respetables, no solo porque casi todos eran ricos, sino tambien
porque nunca tenian ninguna aventura ni hacian algo inesperado: uno podia saber
lo que diria un Bolson acerca de cualquier asunto sin necesidad de preguntarselo.
Esta es la historia de como un Bolson tuvo una aventura, y se encontro a si mismo
haciendo y diciendo cosas por completo inesperadas. Podria haber perdido el
respeto de los vecinos, pero gano... Bueno, ya vereis si al final gano algo.

La madre de nuestro hobbit particular... pero, ^que es un hobbit? Supongo que los
hobbits necesitan hoy que se los describa de algun modo, ya que se volvieron
bastante raros y timidos con la Gente Grande, como nos llaman. Son (o fueron)
gente menuda de la mitad de nuestra talla, y mas pequehos que los enanos
barbados. Los hobbits no tienen barba. Hay poca o ninguna magia en ellos,
excepto esa comun y cotidiana que los ayuda a desaparecer en silencio y
rapidamente, cuando gente grande y estupida como vosotros o yo se acerca sin
mirar por donde va, con un ruido de elefantes que puede oirse a una milla de
distancia. Tienden a ser gruesos de vientre; visten de colores brillantes (sobre todo
verde y amarillo); no usan zapatos, porque en los pies tienen suelas naturales de
piel y un pelo espeso y tibio de color castaho, como el que les crece en las
cabezas (que es rizado); los dedos son largos, mahosos y morenos, los rostros
afables, y se rien con profundas y jugosas risas (especialmente despues de cenar,
lo que hacen dos veces al dia, cuando pueden). Ahora sabeis lo suficiente como
para continuar el relate Como iba diciendo, la madre de este hobbit — o sea, Bilbo
Bolson — era la famosa Belladonna Tuk, una de las tres extraordinarias hijas del
Viejo Tuk, patriarca de los hobbits que vivian al otro lado de Delagua, el riachuelo



que coma al pie de La Colina. Se decia a menudo (en otras familias) que tiempo
atras un antepasado de los Tuk se habia casado sin duda con un hada. Eso era,
desde luego, absurdo, pero por cierto habia todavia algo no del todo hobbit en
ellos, y de cuando en cuando miembros del clan Tuk salian a correr aventuras.

Desaparecian con discretion, y la familia echaba tierra sobre el asunto; pero los
Tuk no eran tan respetables como los Bolson, aunque indudablemente mas ricos.

Al menos Belladonna Tuk no habia tenido ninguna aventura despues de
convertirse en la sehora de Bungo Bolson. Bungo, el padre de Bilbo, le construyo
el agujero — hobbit mas lujoso (en parte con el dinero de ella), que pudiera
encontrarse bajo La Colina o sobre La Colina o al otro lado de Delagua, y alii se
quedaron hasta el fin. No obstante, es probable que Bilbo, hijo unico, aunque se
parecia y se comportaba exactamente como una segunda edition de su padre,
firme y comodon, tuviese alguna rareza de caracter del lado de los Tuk, algo que
solo esperaba una ocasion para salir a la luz. La ocasion no llego a presentarse
nunca, hasta que Bilbo Bolson fue un adulto que rondaba los cincuenta ahos y
vivia en el hermoso agujero-hobbit que acabo de describiros, y cuando en verdad
ya parecia que se habia asentado alii para siempre.

Por alguna curiosa coincidencia, una mahana de hace tiempo en la quietud del
mundo, cuando habia menos ruido y mas verdor, y los hobbits eran todavia
numerosos y prosperos, y Bilbo Bolson estaba de pie en la puerta del agujero,
despues del desayuno, fumando una enorme y larga pipa de madera que casi le
llegaba a los dedos lanudos de los pies (bien cepillados), Gandalf aparecio de
pronto. jGandalf! Si solo hubieseis oido un cuarto de lo que yo he oido de el, y he
oido solo muy poco de todo lo que hay que oir, estariais preparados para
cualquier especie de cuento notable — Cuentos y aventuras brotaban por donde
quiera que pasara, de la forma mas extraordinaria. No habia bajado a aquel
camina al pie de La Colina desde hacia ahos y ahos, desde la muerte de su amigo
el Viejo Tuk, y los hobbits casi habian olvidado como era. Habia estado lejos, mas
alia de La Colina y del otro lado de Delagua por asuntos particulares, desde el
tiempo en que todos ellos eran pequehos nihos hobbits y nihas hobbits.

Todo lo que el confiado Bilbo vio aquella mahana fue un anciano con un baston.
Tenia un sombrero azul, alto y puntiagudo, una larga capa gris, una bufanda de
plata sobre la que colgaba una barba larga y blanca hasta mas abajo de la cintura,
y botas negras.

— i Buenos dias! — dijo Bilbo, y esto era exactamente lo que queria decir. El sol
brillaba y la hierba estaba muy verde. Pero Gandalf lo miro desde debajo de las
cejas largas y espesas, mas sobresalientes que el ala del sombrero, que le
ensombrecia la cara.

— ^Que quieres decir? — pregunto — <j,Me deseas un buen dia, o quieres decir
que es un buen dia, lo quiera yo o no; o que hoy te sientes bien; o que es un dia
en que conviene ser bueno? — Todo eso a la vez — dijo Bilbo — . Y un dia
estupendo para una pipa de tabaco a la puerta de casa, ademas. jSi llevais una
pipa encima, sentaos y tomad un poco de mi tabaco! jNo hay prisa, tenemos todo
el dia por delante! — entonces Bilbo se sento en una silla junto a la puerta, cruzo



las piernas, y lanzo un hermoso anillo de humo gris que navego en el aire sin
romperse, y se alejo flotando sobre La Colina.

— jMuy bonito! — dijo Gandalf — Pero esta manana no tengo tiempo para anillos de
humo. Busco a alguien con quien compartir una aventura que estoy planeando, y
es dificil dar con el.

— Pienso lo mismo... En estos lugares somos gente sencilla y tranquila y no
estamos acostumbrados a las aventuras. jCosas desagradables, molestas e
incomodas que retrasan la cena! No me explico por que atraen a la gente — dijo
nuestro sehor Bolson, y metiendo un pulgar detras del tirante lanzo otro anillo de
humo mas grande aun. Luego saco el correo matutino v se puso a leer, fingiendo
ignorar al viejo, Pero el viejo no se movio. Permanecio apoyado en el baston
observando al hobbit sin decir nada, hasta que Bilbo se sintio bastante incomodo y
aun un poco enfadado.

— jBuenos dias! — dijo al fin — . jNo queremos aventuras aqui, gracias! <j,Por que
no probais mas alia de La Colina o al otro lado de Delagua? — Con esto daba a
entender que la conversation habia terminado.

— jPara cuantas cosas empleas el Buenas dias!, — dijo Gandalf — . Ahora quieres
decir que intentas deshacerte de mi y que no seran buenos hasta que me vaya.

— jDe ningun modo, de ningun modo, mi querido sehor! — . Veamos, no creo
conocer vuestro nombre...

— jSi, si, mi querido sehor, y yo si que conozco tu nombre, sehor Bilbo Bolson! Y
tu tambien sabes el mio, aunque no me unas a el. jYo soy Gandalf, y Gandalf soy
yo! jQuien iba a pensar que un hijo de Belladonna Tuk me daria los buenos dias
como si yo fuese vendiendo botonungido;
este era el miercoles mas desagradable que pudiera recordar. Abrio la puerta de
un bandazo, y todos rodaron dentro, uno sobre otro. Mas enanos, jcuatro mas! Y
detras Gandalf, apoyado en su vara y riendo. Habia hecho una muesca bastante
grande en la hermosa puerta; por cierto, tambien habia borrado la marca secreta
que pusiera alii la mahana anterior.

— jTranquilidad, tranquilidad! — dijo — . jNo es propio de ti, Bilbo, tener a los
amigos esperando en el felpudo y luego abrir la puerta de sopeton! jDejame
presentarte a Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, y sobre todo a Thorin!

— jA vuestro servicio! — dijeron Bifur, Bofur y Bombur los tres en hilera. En seguida
colgaron dos capuchones amarillos y uno verde palido; y tambien uno celeste con
una gran borla de plata. Este ultimo pertenecia a Thorin, un enorme e importante
enano, de hecho nada mas y nada menos que el propio Thorin Escudo de Roble,
a quien no le gusto nada caer de bruces sobre el felpudo de Bilbo con Bifur, Bofur
y Bombur sobre el. Ante todo, Bombur era enormemente gordo y pesado. Thorin
era muy arrogante, y no dijo nada sobre servicio; pero el pobre sehor Bolson le
repitio tantas veces que lo sentia, que el enano gruho al fin: — Le ruego no lo
mencione mas — y dejo de fruncir el ceho.

— jVaya, ya estamos todos aqui! — dijo Gandalf, mirando la hilera de trece
capuchones, una muy vistosa coleccion de capuchones, y su propio sombrero
colgados en las perchas — . jQue alegre reunion! jEspero que quede algo de



comer y beber para los rezagados! ^Que es eso? jTe! jNo, gracias! Para mi un
poco de vino tinto.

— Y tambien yo — dijo Thorin.

— Y mermelada de frambuesa y tarta de manzana — dijo Bifur.

— Y pastelillos de carne y queso — dijo Bofur.

— Y pastel de carne de cerdo y tambien ensalada — dijo Bombur.

— Y mas pasteles, y cerveza, y cafe, si no os importa — gritaron los otros enanos al
otro lado de la puerta.

— Prepara unos pocos huevos. jQue gran amigo! — grito Gandalf mientras el hobbit
coma a las despensas. jY saca el polio frio y unos encurtidos!

"jParece conocer el interior de mi despensa tanto como yo!" penso el senor
Bolson, que se sentia del todo desconcertado y empezaba a preguntarse si la mas
lamentable aventura no habia ido a caer justo a su propia casa. Cuando termino
de apilar las botellas y los platos y los cuchillos y los tenedores y los vasos y las
fuentes y las cucharas y demas cosas en grandes bandejas, estaba acalorado,
rojo como la grana y muy fastidiado.

— jMalditos y condenados enanos! — dijo en voz alta — ^Por que no vienen y me

echan una mano? Y he aqui que alii estaban Balin y Dwalin en la puerta de la

cocina, y Fili y Kili tras ellos, y antes de que pudiese decir cuchillo, ya se habian
llevado a toda prisa las bandejas y un par de mesas pequehas al salon, y alii
colocaron todo otra vez.

Gandalf se puso a la cabecera, con los trece enanos alrededor, y Bilbo se sento
en un taburete junto al fuego, mordisqueando una galleta (habia perdido el apetito)
e intentando aparentar que todo era normal y de ningun modo una aventura. Los
enanos comieron y comieron, charlaron y charlaron, y el tiempo paso. Por ultimo
echaron atras las sillas, y Bilbo se puso en movimiento, recogiendo platos y vasos.

— Supongo que os quedareis todos a cenar — dijo en uno de sus mas educados y
reposados tonos.

— jClaro que si! — dijo Thorin — y despues tambien. No nos meteremos en el
asunto hasta mas tarde, y antes podemos hacer un poco de musica. jAhora a
levantar las mesas!

En seguida los doce enanos — no Thorin, el era demasiado importante, y se quedo
charlando con Gandalf — se incorporaron de un salto, e hicieron enormes pilas con
todas las cosas. Alia se fueron, sin esperar por las bandejas, llevando en equilibrio
en una mano las columnas de platos, cada una de ellas con una botella encima,
mientras el hobbit coma detras casi dando chillidos de miedo: — jPor favor,
cuidado! — y — jPor favor, no se molesten! Yo me las arreglo — . Pero los enanos
no le hicieron caso y se pusieron a cantar:

jDesportillad los vasos y destrozad los platos!

jEmbotad los cuchillos, doblad los tenedores!



jEsto es lo que Bilbo Bolson detesta tanto!
jEstrellad las botellas y quemad los tapones!

jDesgarrad el mantel, pisotead la manteca,
y derramad la leche en la despensa!
jEchad los huesos en la alfombra del cuarto!
jSalpicad de vino todas las puertas!

jVaciad los cacharros en un caldero hirviente;
hacedlos trizas, a barrotazos;
y cuando termineis, si aun algo queda entero,
echadlo a rodar pasillo abajo!

jEsto es lo que Bilbo Bolson detesta tanto!
jDe modo que cuidado! jCuidado con los platos!



Y desde luego no hicieron ninguna de estas cosas terribles, y todo se limpio y se
guardo a la velocidad del rayo, mientras el hobbit daba vueltas y mas vueltas en
medio de la cocina intentando ver que hacfan. Al fin regresaron, y encontraron a
Thorin con los pies en el guardafuego fumandose una pipa. Estaba haciendo unos
enormes anillos de humo, y dondequiera que le dijera a uno que fuese, alii iba —
chimenea arriba, o detras del reloj sobre la repisa, o bajo la mesa, o girando y
girando en el techo — , pero dondequiera que fuesen no eran bastante rapidos para
escapar a Gandalf. jPop! De la pipa de barro de Gandalf subia en seguida un
anillo mas pequeno que atravesaba el ultimo anillo de Thorin. Luego el anillo de
Gandalf tomaba un color verde, y bajaba a flotar sobre la cabeza del mago. Tenia
ya toda una nube alrededor, y a la luz indistinta parecia una figura extraha y
fantasmagorica. Bilbo permanecia inmovil y observaba — le encantaban los anillos
de humo — y se sonrojo al recordar que orgulloso habia estado de los anillos que
en la mahana anterior lanzara al viento sobre La Colina.

— jAhora un poco de musical — dijo Thorin — . jSacad los instrumentos!

Kili y Fili se apresuraron a buscar las bolsas y trajeron unos pequehos violines;
Dori, Nori y Oh sacaron unas flautas de algun bolsillo de los capotes; Bombur
tamborileo desde el vestibulo; Bifur y Bofur salieron tambien, y volvieron con unos
clarinetes que habian dejado entre los bastones. Dwalin y Balin dijeron:

— jDisculpadme, deje el mio en el porche! — Y Thorin dijo: — jTrae el mio tambien!
— Regresaron con unas violas tan grandes como ellos mismos, y con el arpa de
Thorin envuelta en una tela verde. Era una hermosa arpa dorada, y cuando Thorin



la rasgueo, los otros enanos empezaron juntos a tocar una musica, tan subita y
dulcemente que Bilbo olvido todo lo demas, y fue transportado a unas tierras
distantes y oscuras, bajo lunas extranas, lejos de Delagua y muy lejos del
agujero — hobbit bajo La Colina.

La oscuridad penetro en la habitacion por el ventanuco que se abria en la ladera
de La Colina; el fuego parpadeaba — era abril — y aun seguian tocando, mientras
la sombra de la barba de Gandalf danzaba contra la pared.

La oscuridad invadio toda la habitacion, y el fuego se extinguio y las sombras se
borraron; y todavia seguian tocando. Y de pronto, uno primero y luego otro,
mientras tocaban, entonaron el canto grave que antaho cantaran los enanos, en lo
mas hondo de las viejas moradas, y estas lineas son como un fragmento de esa
cancion, aunque no hay comparacion posible sin la musica.

Mas alia de las Mas y brumosas montahas,
a mazmorras profundas y cavernas antiguas,
en busca del metal amarillo encantado,
hemos de ir, antes que el dia nazca.

Los enanos echaban hechizos poderosos
mientras las mazas tahfan como campanas,
en simas donde duermen criaturas sombrias,
en salas huecas bajo las montahas.

Para el antiguo rey y el sehor de los Elfos
los enanos labraban martilleando
un tesoro dorado, y la luz atrapaban
y en gemas la escondian en la espada.

En collares de plata ponian y engarzaban
estrellas florecientes, el fuego del dragon
colgaban en coronas, en metal retorcido
entretejian la luz de la luna y del sol.

Mas alia de las Mas y brumosas montahas,
a mazmorras profundas y cavernas antiguas



10



a reclamar el oro hace tiempo olvidado,
hemos de ir, antes que el dia nazca.

Alii para ellos mismos labraban las vasijas
y las arpas de oro; pasaban mucho tiempo
donde otros no cavaban; y alii muchas canciones
cantaron que los hombres o los Elfos no oyeron.

Los vientos ululaban en medio de la noche,
y los pinos rugian en la cima.
El fuego era rojo, y llameaba extendiendose,
los arboles como antorchas de luz resplandecfan.

Las campanas tocaban en el valle,
y hombres de cara palida observaban el cielo,
la ira del dragon, mas violenta que el fuego,
derribaba las torres y las casas.

La montaha humeaba a la luz de la luna;
los enanos oyeron los pasos del destino,
huyeron y cayeron y fueron a morir
a los pies del palacio, a la luz de la luna.

Mas alia de las hoscas y brumosas montahas,
a mazmorras profundas y cavernas antiguas
a quitarle nuestro oro y las arpas,
jhemos de ir, antes que el dia nazca!



Mientras cantaban, el hobbit sintio dentro de el el amor de las cosas hermosas
hechas a mano con ingenio y magia; un amor fiero y celoso, el deseo de los
corazones de los enanos. Entonces algo de los Tuk renacio en el: deseo salir y ver
las montahas enormes, y oir los pinos y las cascadas, y explorar las cavernas, y
llevar una espada en vez de un baston. Miro por la ventana. Las estrellas
asomaban fuera en el cielo oscuro, sobre los arboles. Penso en las joyas de los



11



enanos que brillaban en las cavernas tenebrosas. De repente, en el bosque de
mas alia de Delagua se alzo un fuego, — quiza alguien encendia una hoguera — y
penso en dragones devastadores que invadian la pacifica Colina envolviendo todo
en llamas. Se estremecio; y en seguida volvio a ser el sencillo sehor Bolson, de
Bolson Cerrado, Sotomonte otra vez.

Se incorporo temblando. Tenia muy pocas ganas de traer la lampara, y apenas un
poco mas de pretender que iba a buscarla y marcharse y esconderse luego en la
bodega detras de los barriles de cerveza y no salir mas hasta que los enanos se
fueran. De pronto advirtio que la musica y el canto habian cesado y que todos lo
miraban con ojos brillantes en la oscuridad.

— ^Adonde vas? — le pregunto Thorin, en un tono que parecia querer mostrar que
adivinaba los pensamientos contradictorios del hobbit.

— <j,Que os parece un poco de luz? — dijo Bilbo disculpandose.

— Nos gusta la oscuridad — dijeron todos los enanos — . jOscuridad para asuntos
oscuros! Faltan aun muchas horas hasta el alba.

— jPor supuesto! — dijo Bilbo, y volvio a sentarse a toda prisa. No le acerto al
taburete y se sento en cambio en el guardafuegos, derribando con estrepito el
atizador y la pala.

— jSilencio! — dijo Gandalf — . jQue hable Thorin! — Y asi fue como Thorin empezo.

— jGandalf, enanos y sehor Bolson! Nos hemos reunido en casa de nuestro amigo
y compahero conspirador, este hobbit de lo mas excelente y audaz. jQue nunca se
le caiga el pelo de los pies! jToda nuestra alabanza al vino y la cerveza de la
region! — Se detuvo a tomar un respiro y a esperar una cortes observation del
hobbit, pero al pobre Bilbo se le habian agotado las cortesias, y movia la boca
tratando de protestar porque lo habian llamado audaz, y peor que eso, compahero
conspirador aunque no emitio ningun sonido; se sentia de veras estupefacto. De
modo que Thorin continuo:

— Nos hemos reunido aqui para discutir nuestros planes, medios, politica y
recursos. Emprenderemos ese largo viaje poco antes que rompa el dia, un viaje
que para algunos de nosotros, o quiza para todos (excepto para nuestro amigo y
consejero, el ingenioso mago Gandalf) quiza sea un viaje sin retorno. Este es un
momento solemne. Nuestro objetivo, supongo, todos lo conocemos bien. Para el
estimable sehor Bolson, y quiza para uno o dos de los enanos mas jovenes (creo
que acertaria si nombrara a Kili y a Fili, por. Ejemplo), la situation exacta y actual
podria necesitar de una breve explication...

Este era el estilo de Thorin. Era un enano importante. Si se lo hubieran permitido,
quiza habria seguido asi hasta quedarse sin aliento, sin dejar de decir a cada uno
algo ya sabido. Pero lo interrumpieron de mal modo. El pobre Bilbo no pudo
soportarlo mas. Cuando oyo quiza sea un viaje sin retorno empezo a sentir que un
chillido le subia desde dentro, y muy pronto estallo como el silbido de una
locomotora a la salida de un tunel. Todos los enanos se pusieron en pie de un
salto derribando la mesa. Gandalf golpeo el extremo de la vara magica que emitio
una luz azul, y en el resplandor se pudo ver al pobre hobbit de rodillas sobre la



12



alfombra junto al hogar, temblando como una gelatina que se derrite. En seguida
cayo de bruces al suelo, y se puso a gritar: — jAlcanzado por un rayo, alcanzado
por un rayo! — una y otra vez, y eso fue todo lo que pudieron sacarle durante largo
tiempo. Asi que lo levantaron y lo tumbaron en un sofa de la sala, con un trago a
mano, y volvieron a sus oscuros asuntos.

— Excitable el companerito — dijo Gandalf, mientras se sentaban de nuevo — .
Tiene extranos y graciosos ataques, pero es uno de los mejores: tan fiero como un
dragon en apuros.

Si habeis visto alguna vez un dragon en apuros, comprendereis que esto solo
podia ser una exageracion poetica aplicada a cualquier, hobbit, aun a Toro
Bramador, el tio bisabuelo del Viejo Tuk, tan enorme (como hobbit) que hasta
podia montar a caballo. En la batalla de los Campos Verdes habia cargado contra
las filas de trasgos del Monte Gram, y blandiendo una porra de madera le arranco
de cuajo la cabeza al rey Golfimbul. La cabeza salio disparada unas cien yardas
por el aire y fue a dar a la madriguera de un conejo, y de esta forma, y a la vez, se
gano la batalla y se invento el juego de golf.

Mientras tanto, sin embargo, el mas gentil descendiente de Toro Bramador volvia
a la vida en la sala de estar. Al cabo de un rato y luego de un trago se arrastro
nervioso hacia la puerta. Esto fue lo que oyo; hablaba Gloin: — jHum! — o un
bufido semejante — . ^Creeis que servira? Esta muy bien que Gandalf diga que
este hobbit es fiero, pero un chillido como ese en un momento de excitacion
bastaria para despertar al dragon y al resto de la parentela, y matamos a todos.
jCreo que sonaba mas a miedo que a excitacion! En verdad, si no fuese por la
sehal en la puerta, juraria que habiamos venido a una casa equivocada. Tan
pronto como eche una ojeada a ese pequehajo que se sacudia y resoplaba sobre
el felpudo, tuve mis dudas. jMas parece un tendero que un saqueador!

En ese momento el sehor Bolson abrio la puerta y entro. La vena Tuk habia
ganado. De pronto sintio que si se quedaba sin cama ni desayuno podria parecer
realmente fiero. En cuanto al pequehajo que se sacudia sobre el felpudo casi le
hizo perder la cabeza. Mas tarde, y a menudo, la parte Bolson se lamentaria de lo
que hizo entonces, y se diria: — Bilbo, fuiste un tonto; te decidiste a entrar y
metiste la pata.

— Perdonadme — dijo — , si por casualidad he oido lo que estabais diciendo. No
pretendo entender lo que hablais, ni esa referenda a saqueadores, pero no creo
equivocarme si digo que sospechais que no sirvo — esto es lo que el llamaba no
perder la dignidad — . Lo demostrare. No hay sehal alguna en mi puerta, se pinto la
semana anterior, y estoy seguro de que habeis venido a la casa equivocada.
Desde el momento en que vi vuestras extrahas caras en el umbral tuve mis dudas.
Pero considerad que es la casa correcta. Decidme lo que quereis que haga y lo
intentare, aunque tuviera que ir desde aqui hasta el Este del Este y luchar con los
hombres gusanos del Ultimo Desierto. Tuve, una vez, un tio architatarabuelo, Toro
Bramador Tuk, y...

— Si, si, pero eso fue hace mucho — dijo Gloin — Estaba hablando de vos. Y os
aseguro que hay una marca en esta puerta: la normal en el negocio, o la que



13



hasta hace poco era normal. Saqueador nocturno busca un buen trabajo, con
mucha Excitacion y Remuneration razonable, asi es como todo el mundo la
entiende. Podeis decir Buscador Experto de Tesoros en vez de saqueador si lo
preferfs. Algunos lo hacen. Para nosotros es lo mismo. Gandalf nos dijo que habia
un hombre de esas caracteristicas por estos lugares, que buscaba un trabajo
inmediato, y que habian concertado una cita este miercoles, aqui y a la hora del
te.

— Claro que hay una marca — dijo Gandalf — . La puse yo mismo. Por muy buenas
razones. Me pedisteis que encontrara al hombre catorceavo para vuestra
expedition, y elegi al sehor Bilbo. Basta que alguien diga que elegi al hombre o la
casa equivocada y podeis quedaros en trece y tener toda la mala suerte que
querais, o volver a picar carbon.

Clavo la mirada con tal ira en Gloin que el enano se acurruco en la silla; y cuando
Bilbo intento abrir la boca para hacer una pregunta, se volvio hacia el con el ceho
fruncido, adelantando las cejas espesas, hasta que el hobbit cerro la boca de
golpe. — Esta bien — dijo Gandalf — . No discutamos mas. He elegido al sehor
Bolson y eso tendria que bastar a todos. Si digo que es un saqueador nocturno, lo
es de veras, o lo sera llegado el momento. Hay mucho mas en el de lo que
imaginais y mucho mas de lo que el mismo se imagina. Tal vez (posiblemente)
aun vivais todos para agradecermelo. Ahora Bilbo, muchacho, jvete a buscar la
lampara y pongamos un poco de luz a todo esto!

Sobre la mesa, a la luz de una gran lampara de pantalla roja, Gandalf extendio un
trozo de pergamino bastante parecido a un mapa *.

— Esto lo hizo Thror, tu abuelo, Thorin — dijo respondiendo a las excitadas
preguntas de los enanos — Es un piano de la Montana.

— No creo que nos sea de gran ayuda — dijo Thorin desilusionado, tras echar un
vistazo — . Recuerdo la Montana muy bien, asi como las tierras que hay por alii. Y
se donde esta el Bosque Negro, y el Brezal Marchito, donde se crian los grandes
dragones.

— Hay un dragon sehalado en rojo sobre la Montana

— dijo Balin — , pero sera bastante facil encontrarlo sin eso, si alguna vez llegamos
alii.

— Hay tambien un punto que no habeis advertido

— dijo el mago — , y es la entrada secreta ^Veis esa runa en el lado oeste, y la
mano que apunta hacia ella desde las otras runas? Eso indica un pasadizo oculto
a los Salones

Inferiores. — Mirad el mapa al principio de este libro, y alii vereis las runas.

— Puede que en otra epoca fuese secreto — dijo Thorin — , pero ^como sabremos
si todavia lo es? El Viejo Smaug ha vivido alii mucho tiempo y ha de conocer bien
esas cuevas.

— Tal ver... pero no pudo haberlo utilizado desde hace ahos y ahos.



14



— <^Por que?

— Porque es demasiado pequeno. Cinco pies de altura y tres pasan con holgura,
dicen las runas, pero Smaug no podria arrastrarse por un agujero de ese tamano,
ni siquiera cuando era un dragon joven, y menos despues de haber devorado
tantos enanos y hombres de Valle.

— Pues a mi me parece un agujero bastante grande — chillo Bilbo que nada sabia
de dragones, y en cuanto a agujeros solo conocia los de los hobbits. Se sentia
otra vez excitado e interesado, y olvido mantener la boca cerrada. Le encantaban
los mapas, y en el vestibulo colgaba uno enorme del Pais Redondo con todos sus
caminos favoritos marcados en tinta roja — , ^Como una puerta tan grande pudo
haber sido un secreto para todo el mundo, aun sin contar al dragon? — pregunto.
Recordad que era solo un pequeno hobbit.

— De muchos modos — dijo Gandalf — . Pero como ha quedado oculta, no lo
sabremos sin antes ir a mirar. Por lo que dice el mapa me imagino que hay una
puerta cerrada que no se distingue del resto de la ladera. El metodo comun entre
los enanos, <j,no es cieno?

— Muy cierto — dijo Thorin.

— Ademas — prosiguio Gandalf — , olvide mencionar que con el mapa venia una
Nave, una Nave pequeha y rara. jHela aqui! — dijo, y dio a Thorin una Nave de
plata, larga, de dientes intrincados — . jGuardala bien!

— Asi lo hare — dijo Thorin, y la engancho en una cadenilla que le colgaba del
cuello bajo la chaqueta — . Ahora las cosas parecen mas prometedoras. Estas
noticias les dan mejor aspecto. Hasta hoy no teniamos una idea demasiado clara
de lo que podiamos hacer. Pensabamos marchar hacia el Este en silencio y con
toda la cautela posible, hasta llegar a Lago Largo. Las dificultades empezarian
despues...

— Mucho antes, si algo se de los caminos del Este — interrumpio Gandalf.

— Podrfamos subir desde alii bordeando el Rio Rapido — dijo Thorin sin prestar
atencion — , y luego hasta las ruinas de Valle, la vieja ciudad a la sombra de la
Montana. Pero a ninguno nos gustaba mucho la idea de la Puerta Principal. El no
sale justo ahi atravesando el gran risco al sur de la Montana, y de ahi sale tambien
el dragon, muy a menudo desde hace tiempo, a menos que haya cambiado de
costumbres.

— Eso no seria bueno — dijo el mago — , no sin un guerrero poderoso, o aun un
heroe. Intente conseguir uno; pero los guerreros estan todos ocupados luchando
entre ellos en tierras lejanas, y en esta vecindad los heroes son escasos, o al
menos no se los encuentra. Las espadas estan aqui casi todas embotadas, las
hachas se utilizan para cortar arboles y los escudos como cunas o cubrefuentes; y
para comodidad de todos, los dragones estan muy lejos (y de ahi que sean
legendarios). Por este motivo me dedique a merodear de noche, sobre todo desde
que recorde la existencia de una puerta lateral. Y aqui tenemos a nuestro pequeno
Bilbo Bolson, el saqueador, electo y selecto. Asi que continuemos y hagamos
planes.



15



— Muy bien — dijo Thorin — , supongamos entonces que el experto mismo nos da
alguna idea o sugerencia. — Se volvio con una cortesia burlona hacia Bilbo.

— En primer lugar me gustaria saber un poco mas del asunto — dijo Bilbo
sintiendose confuso y un poco agitado por dentro, pero bastante Tuk todavia y
decidido a seguir adelante — Me refiero al oro y al dragon, y todo eso, y como
llegar alii y a quien pertenece, etcetera, etcetera.

— jBendita sea! — dijo Thorin — , ^no tienes un mapa? <j,Y no has oido nuestro
canto? <j,Y acaso no hemos estado hablando de esto durante horas?

— Aun asi, me gustaria saberlo todo clara y llanamente — dijo Bilbo con
obstinacion, adoptando un aire de negocios (por lo comun reservado para gente
que trataba de pedirle dinero), y tratando por todos los me dios de parecer sabio,
prudente, profesional, y estar a la altura de la recomendacion de Gandalf —
Tambien me gustaria conocer los riesgos, los gastos, el tiempo requerido y la
remuneration, etcetera. — Lo que queria decir: "<j,Que sacare de esto? <j,Y
regresare con vida?".

— Oh, muy bien — dijo Thorin — Hace mucho, en tiempos de mi abuelo Thror,
nuestra familia fue expulsada del lejano Norte y vino con todos sus bienes y
herramientas a esta Montana del mapa. La habia descubierto mi lejano
antepasado, Thrain el Viejo, pero entonces abrieron minas, excavaron tuneles y
construyeron galenas y talleres mas grandes... y creo ademas que encontraron
gran cantidad de oro y tambien piedras preciosas. De cualquier modo se hicieron
inmensamente ricos, y mi abuelo fue de nuevo Rey bajo la Montana y tratado con
gran respeto por los mortales, que vivian al Sur y poco a poco se extendieron no
arriba hasta el valle al pie de la Montana. Alia, en aquellos dias, levantaron la
alegre ciudad de Valle. Los reyes mandaban buscar a nuestros herreros y
recompensar con largueza aun a los menos habiles. Los padres nos rogaban que
tomasemos a sus hijos como aprendices y nos pagaban bien, sobre todo con
provisiones, pues nosotros nunca sembrabamos, ni buscabamos comida. Aquellos
dias si que eran buenos, y aun el mas pobre tenia dinero para gastar y prestar, y
ocio para fabricar objetos hermosos solo por diversion, para no mencionar los mas
maravillosos juguetes magicos, que hoy ya no se encuentran en el mundo. Asi los
salones de mi abuelo se llenaron de armaduras, joyas, grabados y copas, y el
mercado de juguetes de Valle fue el asombro de todo el Norte.

"Sin duda eso fue lo que atrajo al dragon. Los dragones, sabeis, roban oro y joyas
a hombres, elfos y enanos dondequiera que puedan encontrarlos, y guardan el
botin mientras viven (lo que en la practica es para siempre, a menos que los
maten), y ni siquiera disfrutan de un anillo de hojalata. En realidad apenas
distinguen una pieza buena de una mala, aunque en general conocen bien el valor
que tienen en el mercado; y no son capaces de hacer nada por si mismos, ni
siquiera arreglarse una escamita suelta en la armadura que llevan. Por aquellos
dias habia muchos dragones en el Norte, y es posible que el oro empezara a
escasear alia arriba, con enanos que huian al Sur o eran asesinados, y la
devastation general y la destruction que los dragones provocaban y que iba en
aumento. Habia un gusano que era muy ambicioso, fuerte y malvado, llamado



16



Smaug. Un dia echo a volar y llego al Sur. Lo primero que oimos fue un ruido
como de un huracan que venia del norte, y los pinos en la Montana crujian y
rechinaban con el viento. Algunos de los enanos que en ese momento estabamos
fuera (yo era por fortuna uno de ellos, un muchacho apuesto y aventurero en
aquellos dias, siempre vagando por los alrededores, y eso me salvo entonces),
bien, vimos desde bastante lejos al dragon que se posaba en nuestra montaha en
un remolino de fuego. Luego bajo por las laderas, y los bosques empezaron a
arder. Ya para entonces todas las campanas repicaban en Valle y los guerreros se
armaban. Los enanos salieron corriendo por la puerta grande; pero alii estaba el
dragon esperandolos. Nadie escapo por ese lado. El no se transformo en vapor y
una niebla cayo sobre ellos y acabo con la mayoria de los guerreros: la triste
historia de siempre, solo que en aquellos dias era demasiado comun. Luego
retrocedio, arrastrandose a traves de la Puerta Principal, y destrozo todos los
salones, aceras, tuneles, callejuelas, bodegas, mansiones y pasadizos. Despues
de eso no quedo enano vivo dentro, y el dragon se apodero de todas las riquezas.

Quiza, pues es costumbre entre los dragones, haya apilado todo en un gran
monton muy adentro y duerma sobre el tesoro utilizandolo como cama. Mas tarde
empezo a salir de vez en cuando arrastrandose por la puerta grande y llegaba a
Valle de noche, y se llevaba gente, especialmente doncellas, para comerlas en la
cueva, hasta que Valle quedo arruinada y toda la gente murio o huyo. Lo que pasa
alii ahora no lo se con certeza, pero no creo que nadie viva hoy entre la Montaha y
la orilla opuesta del Lago Largo.

Los pocos de nosotros que estabamos fuera, y asi nos salvamos, llorabamos a
escondidas y maldeciamos a Smaug, y alii nos encontramos inesperadamente con
mi padre y mi abuelo, que tenian las barbas chamuscadas. Parecian muy
preocupados, pero hablaban muy poco. Cuando les pregunte como habian huido
me dijeron que callase, que algun dia a su debido tiempo ya me enterarfa. Luego
escapamos, y tuvimos que ganarnos la vida lo mejor que pudimos en todas
aquellas tierras, y muy a menudo llegamos a trabajar en herrerias o aun en minas
de carbon. Pero nunca olvidamos el tesoro robado. E incluso ahora, en que he de
admitir que hemos acumulado alguna riqueza y no estamos tan mal — en este
momento Thorin acaricio la cadena de oro que le colgaba del cuello — todavia
pretendemos recuperarlo y hacer que nuestras maldiciones caigan sobre Smaug...
si podemos.

Con frecuencia me pregunte sobre la fuga de mi padre y mi abuelo. Pienso ahora
que tenia que haber una puerta lateral secreta que solo ellos conocian. Pero por lo
visto hicieron un mapa, y me gustaria saber como Gandalf se apodero de el, y por
que no llego a mi, el legitimo heredero.

— Yo no me apodere de el, me lo dieron — dijo el mago — . Quiza recuerdes que tu
abuelo Thror fue asesinado en las minas de Moria por Azog el Trasgo,

— Maldito sea su nombre, si — dijo Thorin.

— Y Thrain, tu padre, se marcho un veintiuno de abril, se cumplieron cien ahos el
jueves pasado; y desde entonces nunca se lo ha vuelto a ver...

— Cierto, cierto — dijo Thorin.



17



— Bien, tu padre me dio esto para que te lo diera; y si elegi el momento y el modo
de entregarlo, no puedes culparme, teniendo en cuenta las dificultades que tuve
para dar contigo. Tu padre no recordaba ni su propio nombre cuando me paso el
papel, y nunca me dijo el tuyo; de modo que en ultima instancia tendrias que
alabarme y agradecermelo. Toma, aqui esta — dijo entregando el mapa a Thorin.

— No lo entiendo — dijo Thorin, y Bilbo sintio que le gustaria decir lo mismo. La
explication no parecia explicar nada.

— Tu abuelo — dijo el mago pausada y seriamente — le dio el mapa a su hijo para
mayor seguridad antes de marcharse a las minas de Moria. Cuando mataron a tu
abuelo, tu padre salio a probar fortuna con el mapa; y tuvo muchas desagradables
aventuras, pero nunca se acerco a la Montana. Como llego alii, no lo se, pero lo
encontre prisionero en las mazmorras del Nigromante.

— ^Que demonios estabas haciendo alii? — pregunto Thorin con un escalofrio, y
todos los enanos se estremecieron.

— No te importa. Estaba averiguando cosas, como siempre; y resulto ser un
asunto sordido y peligroso. Hasta yo, Gandalf, apenas consegui escapar. Intente
salvar a tu padre, pero o era demasiado tarde. Habia perdido el juicio e iba de un
lado para otro, y habia olvidado casi todo excepto el mapa y la Nave.

— Hace tiempo que dimos su merecido a los trasgos de Moria — dijo Thorin — .
Ahora tendremos que ocuparnos del Nigromante.

— jNo seas absurdo! El Nigromante es un enemigo a quien no alcanzan los
poderes de todos los enanos juntos, si desde las cuatro esquinas del mundo se
reuniesen otra vez. Lo unico que deseaba tu padre era que tu leyeras el mapa y
usaras la Have. jEl dragon y la Montana son empresas mas que grandes para ti!

— jOid, oid! — dijo Bilbo, y sin querer hablo en voz alta.

— jOid, oid! — dijeron todos mirandolo, y Bilbo se puso tan nervioso que respondio:
— jOid lo que he de decir!

— ^Que es? — preguntaron.

— Bien, os dire que tendriais que ir hacia el Este y echar alii un vistazo. Al fin y al
cabo alii esta la Puerta lateral, y los dragones han de dormir alguna vez, supongo.
Si os sentais a la entrada durante un tiempo, creo que algo se os ocurrira. Y bien,
<i,no os parece que hemos charlado bastante para una noche, eh? «j,Que opinais
de irse a la cama, para empezar mahana temprano y todo eso? Os dare un buen
desayuno antes de que os vayais.

— Antes de que nos vayamos, supongo que querras decir — dijo Thorin — . <j,No
eres tu el saqueador? ^Y tu oficio no es esperar a la entrada, y aun cruzar la
puerta? Pero estoy de acuerdo en lo de la cama y el desayuno — Me gusta tomar
seis huevos con jamon cuando empiezo un viaje: fritos, no escalfados, y cuida de
no romperlos,

Luego de que los otros hubieran pedido sus desayunos sin ningun por favor (lo
que molesto sobremanera a Bilbo), todos se levantaron. El hobbit tuvo que



18



buscarles sitio, y preparo los cuartos vacfos, e hizo camas en sillas y sofas antes
de instalarlos e irse a su propia camita muy cansado y nada feliz. Lo que si decidio
fue no molestarse en madrugar y preparar el maldito desayuno para lodo el
mundo. La vena Tuk empezaba a desaparecer, y ahora ya no estaba tan seguro
de que fuese a hacer algun viaje por la manana.

Mientras yacia en cama pudo oir a Thorin en la habitacion de al lado, la mejor de
todas, todavia tarareando entre dientes:

Mas alta de las Mas y brumosas montanas,
a mazmorras profundas y cavernas antiguas
a reclamar el oro hace tiempo olvidado,
hemos de ir, antes que el dia nazca.



Bilbo se durmio con ese canto en los ofdos, y tuvo unos suenos intranquilos.
Desperto mucho despues de que naciera el dia.



CARNERO ASADO

Bilbo se levanto de un salto, y poniendose la bata entro en el comedor. Alii no vio
a nadie, pero si las huellas de un enorme y apresurado desayuno. Habia un
horrendo revoltijo en la habitacion, y pilas de cacharros sucios en la cocina.
Parecia que no hubiera quedado ninguna olla ni tartera sin usar. La tarea de
fregarlo todo fue tan tristemente real que Bilbo se vio obligado a creer que la
reunion de la noche anterior no habia sido parte de una pesadilla, como casi habia
esperado. La idea de que habian partido sin el y sin molestarse en despertarlo,
aunque nadie le hubiera dado las gracias, penso, lo habia aliviado de veras. Sin
embargo, no pudo dejar de sentir una cierta decepcion. Este sentimiento lo
sorprendio.

— No seas tonto, Bilbo Bolson — se dijo — , jpensando a tu edad en dragones y en
tonterias estrafalarias! — De modo que se puso el delantal, encendio unos fuegos,
calento agua y frego. Luego se tomo un pequeho y apetitoso desayuno en la
cocina, antes de arreglar el comedor. El sol ya brillaba entonces, y por la puerta
delantera entraba una calida brisa de primavera. Bilbo se puso a silbar y a olvidar
lo de la noche. Ya estaba sentandose para zamparse un segundo apetitoso
desayuno en el comedor, junto a la ventana abierta, cuando de pronto entro
Gandalf.

— Mi querido amigo — dijo — , ^Cuando vas a partir? <j,Que hay de aquello de
empezar temprano? Y aqui estas tomando el desayuno, o como quiera que llames
a eso, a las diez y media. Te dejaron un mensaje, pues no podian esperar.

— <j,Que mensaje? — dijo el pobre Bilbo sonrojado.



19



— jPor los Grandes Elefantes! — respondio Gandalf — Estas desconocido esta
manana; jaun no le has quitado el polvo a la repisa de la chimenea!

— i,Y eso que tiene que ver? jYa tengo bastante con fregar los platos y ollas de
catorce desayunos!

— Si hubieses limpiado la repisa, habrias encontrado esto debajo del reloj — dijo
Gandalf alargandose una nota (por supuesto, escrita en unas cuartillas del propio
Bilbo).

Esto fue lo que el hobbit leyo:

"Thorin y Compahia al Saqueador Bilbo, jsalud! Nuestras mas sinceras gracias por
vuestra hospitalidad y nuestra agradecida aceptacion por habernos ofrecido
asistencia profesional. Condiciones: pago al contado y al finalizar el trabajo, hasta
un maximo de catorceavas partes de los beneficios totales (si los hay); todos los
gastos de viaje garantizados en cualquier circunstancia; los gastos de posibles
funerales los pagaremos nosotros o nuestros representantes, si hay ocasion y el
asunto no se arregla de otra manera.

Creyendo innecesario perturbar vuestro muy estimable reposo, nos hemos
adelantado a hacer los preparativos adecuados; esperaremos a vuestra respetable
persona en la posada del Dragon Verde, junto a Delagua, exactamente a las 1 1
a.m. Confiando en que sea puntual.

tenemos el honor de permanecer
sinceramente vuestros
Thorin y Cia."

— Esto te da diez minutos. Tendras que correr — dijo Gandalf.

— Pero... — dijo Bilbo.

— No hay tiempo para eso — dijo el mago.

— Pero... — dijo otra vez Bilbo.

— Y tampoco para eso otro jVamos, adelante!

Hasta el final de sus dias Bilbo no alcanzo a recordar como se encontro fuera, sin
sombrero, baston, o dinero, o cualquiera de las cosas que acostumbraba llevar
cuando salia, dejando el segundo desayuno a medio terminar, casi sin lavarse la
cara, y poniendo las Naves en manos de Gandalf, corriendo callejon abajo tanto
como se lo permitian los pies peludos, dejando atras el Gran Molino, cruzando el
no, y continuando asi durante una milla o mas.

Resoplando llego a Delagua cuando empezaban a sonar las once, jy descubrio
que se habia venido sin pahuelo!

— jBravo! — dijo Balin, que estaba de pie a la puerta de la posada, esperandolo,



20



Y entonces aparecieron todos los demas doblando la curva del camino que venia
de la villa. Montaban en poneys, y de cada uno de los caballos colgaba toda clase
de equipajes, bultos, paquetes y chismes. Habia un poney pequeno,
aparentemente para Bilbo.

— Arriba vosotros dos, y adelante — dijo Thorin.

— Lo siento terriblemente — dijo Bilbo — , pero me he venido sin mi sombrero, me
he olvidado el pahuelo de bolsillo, y no tengo dinero. No vi vuestra nota hasta
despues de las 10.45, para ser precisos.

— No seas preciso — dijo Dwalin — , y no te preocupes. Tendras que arreglartelas
sin pahuelos y sin buena parte de otras cosas antes de que lleguemos al final del
viaje. En lo que respecta al sombrero, yo tengo un capuchon y una capa de sobra
en mi equipaje.

Y asi fue como se pusieron en marcha, alejandose de la posada en una hermosa
mahana poco antes del mes de mayo, montados en poneys cargados de bultos; y
Bilbo llevaba un capuchon de color verde oscuro (un poco ajado por el tiempo) y
una capa del mismo color que Dwalin le habia prestado. Le quedaban muy
grandes, y tenia un aspecto bastante comico. No me atrevo a aventurar lo que su
padre Bungo hubiese dicho de el.

Solo le consolaba pensar que no lo confundirian con un enano, pues no tenia
barba.

Aun no habian cabalgado mucho tiempo cuando aparecio Gandalf, esplendido,
montando un caballo bianco. Traia un monton de pahuelos y la pipa y el tabaco de
Bilbo. Asi que desde entonces cabalgaron felices, contando historias o cantando
canciones durante toda la Jornada, excepto, naturalmente, cuando paraban a
comer. Esto no ocurrio con la frecuencia que Bilbo hubiese deseado, pero ya
empezaba a sentir que las aventuras no eran en verdad tan malas.

Cruzaron primero las tierras de los hobbits, un extenso pais habitado por gente
simpatica, con buenos caminos, una posada o dos, y aqui y alia un enano o un
granjero que trabajaba en paz.

Llegaron luego a tierras donde la gente hablaba de un modo extraho y cantaba
canciones que Bilbo no habia oido nunca. Se internaron en las Tierras Solitarias,
donde no habia gente ni posadas y los caminos eran cada vez peores. No mucho
mas adelante se alzaron unas colinas melancolicas, oscurecidas por arboles. En
algunas habia viejos castillos, torvos de aspecto, como si hubiesen sido
construidos por gente maldita. Todo parecia lugubre, pues el tiempo se habia
estropeado. Hasta entonces el dia habia sido tan bueno como pudiera esperarse
en mayo, aun en las historias felices, pero ahora era frio y humedo. En las Tierras
Solitarias se habian visto obligados a acampar en un lugar desapacible, pero seco
al menos.

— Pensar que pronto llegara junio — mascullaba Bilbo, mientras avanzaba
chapoteando detras de los otros por un sendero enlodado. La hora del te ya habia
quedado atras; la lluvia caia a cantaros, y asi habia sido todo el dia; el capuchon



21



le goteaba en los ojos; tenia la capa empapada; el poney cansado tropezaba con
las piedras; los otros estaban demasiado enfurrunados para charlar.

— Estoy seguro que la lluvia se ha colado hasta las ropas secas y las bolsas de
comida — gruho Bilbo — . jMalditos sean los saqueadores y todo lo que se
relacione con ellos! Como quisiera estar en mi confortable agujero, al amor de la
lumbre, y con la marmita que ha empezado a silbar. — jNo fue la ultima vez que
tuvo este deseo!

Sin embargo, los enanos seguian al paso, sin volverse ni prestar atencion al
hobbit. Parecio que el sol se habia puesto ya en algun lugar detras de las nubes
grises, pues cuando descendian hacia un valle profundo con un no en el fondo,
empezo a oscurecer. Se levanto viento, y los sauces se mecian y susurraban a lo
largo de las orillas. Por fortuna el camino atravesaba un antiguo puente de piedra,
pues el no crecido por las lluvias bajaba precipitado de las colinas y montanas del
norte.

Era casi de noche cuando lo cruzaron. El viento desgajo las nubes grises y una
luna errante aparecio entre los jirones flotantes. Entonces se detuvieron, y Thorin
murmuro algo acerca de la cena y — ^Donde encontraremos un lugar seco para
dormir?

En ese momento cayeron en la cuenta de que faltaba Gandalf. Hasta entonces
habia hecho todo el camino con ellos, sin decir si participaba de la aventura o
simplemente los acompahaba un rato. Habia hablado, comido y reido como el que
mas... Pero ahora simplemente jno estaba alii!

— jVaya, justo en el momento en que un mago nos seria mas util! — suspiraron
Dori y Nori (que compartian los puntos de vista del hobbit sobre la regularidad,
cantidad y frecuencia de las comidas).

Por fin decidieron que acamparian alii mismo. Se acercaron a una arboleda, y
aunque el terreno estaba mas seco, el viento hacia caer las gotas de las hojas y el
plip — plip molestaba bastante. El mal parecia haberse metido en el fuego mismo.
Los enanos saben hacer fuego en cualquier parte, casi con cualquier cosa, con o
sin viento, pero no pudieron encenderlo esa noche, ni siquiera 6in y Gloin, que en
esto eran especialmente mahosos.

Entonces uno de los poneys se asusto de nada y escapo corriendo. Se metio en el
no antes de que pudieran detenerlo; y antes de que pudiesen llevarlo de vuelta,
Fili y Kili casi murieron ahogados; y el agua habia arrastrado el equipaje del
poney. Naturalmente, era casi todo comida, y quedaba muy poco para la cena, y
menos para el desayuno.

Todos se sentaron, taciturnos, empapados y rezongando, mientras 6in y Gloin
seguian intentando encender el fuego y discutiendo el asunto. Bilbo reflexionaba
tristemente que las aventuras no eran solo cabalgatas en poney al sol de mayo,
cuando Balin, el oteador del grupo, exclamo de pronto: — jAlla hay una luz! — Un
poco apartada asomaba una colina con arboles, bastante espesos en algunos
sitios. Fuera de la masa oscura de la arboleda, todos pudieron ver entonces el



22



brillo de una luz, una luz rojiza, confortadora, como una fogata o antorchas
parpadeantes.

Luego de observarla un rato, se enredaron en una discusion. Unos decian que "si"
y otros decian que "no". Algunos opinaron que lo unico que se podia hacer era ir y
mirar, y que cualquier cosa seria mejor que poca cena, menos desayuno, y ropas
mojadas toda la noche.

Otros dijeron: — Ninguno de estos parajes es bien conocido, y las montanas estan
demasiado cerca. Rara vez algun viajero se aventura ahora por estos lados. Los
mapas antiguos ya no sirven, las cosas han empeorado mucho. Los caminos no
estan custodiados, y aqui ademas han oido hablar del rey en contadas ocasiones,
y cuanto menos preguntas hagas menos dificultades encontraras. — Alguno dijo:
— Al fin y al cabo somos catorce. — Otros: — ^Donde esta Gandalf? — pregunta
que fue repetida por todos.

En ese momento la lluvia empezo a caer mas fuerte que nunca, y 6in y Gloin
iniciaron una pelea.

Esto puso las cosas en su sitio: — Al fin y al cabo, tenemos un saqueador entre
nosotros — dijeron; y asi echaron a andar, guiando a los poneys (con toda la
precaution debida y apropiada) hacia la luz. Llegaron a la colina y pronto
estuvieron en el bosque. Subieron la pendiente, pero no se veia ningun sendero
adecuado que pudiera llevar a una casa o una granja. Continuaron como pudieron,
entre chasquidos, crujidos y susurros (y una buena cantidad de maldiciones y
refunfuhos) mientras avanzaban por la oscuridad cerrada <j,el bosque.

De subito la luz roja brillo muy clara entre los arboles no mucho mas alia, — Ahora
le toca al saqueador — dijeron refiriendose a Bilbo — . Tienes que ir y averiguarlo
todo de esa luz, para que es, y si las cosas parecen normales y en orden — dijo
Thorin al hobbit — . Ahora corre, y vuelve rapido si todo esta bien. Si no, jvuelve
como puedas! Si no puedes, grita dos veces como lechuza de granero y una como
lechuza de campo, y haremos lo que podamos.

Y alia tuvo que partir Bilbo, antes de poder explicates que era tan incapaz de
gritar como una lechuza como de volar como un murcielago.

Pero, de todos modos, los hobbits saben moverse en silencio por el bosque, en
completo silencio. Era una habilidad de la que se sentian orgullosos, y Bilbo mas
de una vez habia torcido la cara mientras cabalgaban, criticando ese "estrepito
propio de enanos"; pero me imagino que ni vosotros ni yo hubieramos advertido
nada en una noche de ventisca, aunque la cabalgata hubiese pasado casi
rozandonos. En cuanto a la sigilosa marcha de Bilbo hacia la luz roja, creo que no
hubiera perturbado ni el bigote de una comadreja, de modo que llego directamente
al fuego — pues era un fuego — sin alarmar a nadie. Y esto fue lo que vio.

Habia tres criaturas muy grandes sentadas alrededor de una hoguera de troncos
de haya, y estaban asando un carnero espetado en largos asadores de madera y
chupandose la salsa de los dedos. Habia un olor delicioso en el aire. Tambien
habia un barril de buena bebida a mano, y bebian de unas jarras. Pero eran trolls.
Trolls sin ninguna duda. Aun Bilbo, a pesar de su vida retirada, podia darse



23



cuenta: las grandes caras toscas, la estatura, el perfil de las piernas, por no hablar
del lenguaje, que no era precisamente el que se escucha en un salon de invitados.

— Carnerro ayer, carnerro hoy y maldicion si no carnerro mahana — dijo uno de los
trolls.

— Ni una mala pizca de carne humana probamos desde hace mucho, mucho
tiempo — dijo otro troll — . Por que demonios Guille nos habra traido aqui; y
ademas la bebida esta escaseando — ahadio, tocando el codo de Guille, que en
ese momento bebia un sorbo.

Guille se atraganto: — jCierra la boca! — dijo tan pronto como pudo — . No puedes
esperar que la gente se quede por aqui solo para que tu y Berto se la zampen.
Habeis comido un pueblo y medio entre los dos desde que bajamos de las
montahas. «j,Que mas quereis? Y esos tiempos han pasado. Y tendrias que haber
dicho 'Grracias, Guille', por este buen bocado de carnerro gordo del valle. —
Arranco un pedazo de la pierna del cordero que estaba asando y se limpio la boca
con la manga.

En efecto, me temo que los trolls se comportan siempre asi, aun aquellos que solo
tienen una cabeza. Luego de haber oido todo esto, Bilbo tendria que haber hecho
algo sin demora. O bien haber regresado en silencio. Y avisar a los demas que
habia tres trolls de buena talla y malhumorados, bastante grandes como para
comerse un enano asado o aun un pony, como novedad; o bien tendria que haber
hecho una buena y rapida demostracion de merodeo nocturno. Un saqueador
legendario y realmente de primera clase, en esta situacion habria metido mano a
los bolsillos de los trolls (algo que casi siempre vale la pena, si consigues hacerlo),
habria sacado el carnero de los espetones, habria arrebatado la cerveza y se
hubiera ido sin que nadie se enterase. Otros mas practicos, pero con menos
orgullo profesional, quiza habrian clavado una daga a cada uno de ellos antes de
que se dieran cuenta. Luego el y los enanos hubieran podido tener una noche
feliz.

Bilbo lo sabia. Habia leido de muchas buenas cosas que nunca habia visto o
nunca habia hecho. Estaba muy asustado, y disgustado tambien; hubiera querido
encontrarse a cien millas de distancia, y sin embargo... sin embargo no podia
volver directamente a donde estaban Thorin y Compahia con las manos vacias.
Asi que se quedo, titubeando en las sombras. De los muchos procedimientos de
saqueo de que habia oido, hurgonear en los bolsillos de los trolls le parecio el
menos dificil, asi que se arrastro hasta un arbol, justo detras de Guille.

Berto y Tom iban ahora hacia el barril. Guille estaba echando otro trago. Bilbo se
armo de coraje e introdujo la manita en el enorme bolsillo de Guille. Habia un
saquito dentro, para Bilbo tan grande como un zurron. "jJa!" penso,
entusiasmandose con el nuevo trabajo, mientras extraia la mano poco a poco, "jy
esto es solo un principio!"

jFue un principio! Los sacos de los trolls son engahosos, y este no era una
excepcion. — jEh!, ^quien eres tu? — chillo el saco en el momento en que dejaba
el bolsillo, y Guille dio una rapida vuelta y tomo a Bilbo por el cuello antes de que
el hobbit pudiera refugiarse detras del arbol.



24



— jMaldicion, Berto, mira lo que he cazado!

— ^Que es? — dijeron los otros acercandose.

— jQue un rayo me parta si lo se! ^Tu, que eres?

— Bilbo Bolson, un saque... un hobbit — dijo el pobre Bilbo temblando de pies a
cabeza, y preguntandose como podria gritar como una lechuza antes que lo
degollasen.

— ^Un saquehobbit? — dijeron los otros un poco alarmados. Los trolls son cortos
de entendimiento, y bastante suspicaces con cualquier cosa que les parezca una
novedad.

— De todos modos, <j,que tiene que hacer un saquehobbit en mis bolsillos? — dijo
Guille.

— Y ipodremos cocinarlo? — dijo Tom.

— Se puede intentar — propuso Berto blandiendo un asador.

— No alcanzaria mas que para un bocado — dijo Guille, que habia cenado bien — ,
una vez que le saquemos la piel y los huesos.

— Quiza haya otros como el alrededor y podamos hacer un pastel — dijo Berto — .
Eh, tu, <j,hay otros ladronzuelos por estos bosques, pequeho conejo asqueroso? —
dijo mirando las extremidades peludas del hobbit; y tomandolo por los dedos de
los pies lo levanto y sacudio.

— Si, muchos — dijo Bilbo antes de darse cuenta de que traicionaba a sus
compaheros — . No, nadie, ni uno — dijo inmediatamente despues.

— ^Que quieres decir? — pregunto Berto, levantandolo en vilo, esta vez por el
pelo.

— Lo que digo — respondio Bilbo jadeando — . Y por favor, jno me cocinen,
amables sehores! Yo mismo cocino bien, y soy mejor cocinero que cocinado, si
entienden lo que quiero decir. Les preparare un hermoso desayuno, un desayuno
perfecto si no me comen en la cena.

— Pobrecito bribon — dijo Guille. Habia comido ya hasta hartarse, y tambien habia
bebido mucha cerveza — . Pobrecito bribon. jDejadlo ir!

— No hasta que diga que quiso decir con muchos y ninguno — replico Berto — , no
quiero que me rebanen el cuello mientras duermo.

— jPonedle los pies al fuego hasta que hable!

— No lo hare — dijo Guille — , al fin y al cabo yo lo he atrapado.

— Eres un gordo estupido, Guille — dijo Berto — , ya te lo dije antes, por la tarde.

— Y tu, un patan.

— Y yo no lo permitire, Guille Estrujonez — dijo Berto, y descargo el puho contra el
ojo de Guille,



25



La pelea que siguio fue esplendida. Bilbo no perdio del todo el juicio, y cuando
Berto lo dejo caer, gateo apartandose antes que los trolls estuviesen peleando
como perros y llamandose a grandes voces con distintos apelativos, verdaderos y
perfectamente adecuados, Pronto estuvieron enredados en un abrazo feroz, casi
rodando hasta el fuego, dandose puntapies y aporreandose, mientras Tom los
golpeaba con una rama para que recobraran el juicio, y por supuesto
enfureciendolos todavia mas.

Bilbo hubiera podido escapar en ese mismo instante. Pero las grandes garras de
Berto le habian estrujado los desdichados pies, habia perdido el aliento, y la
cabeza le daba vueltas; asi que alii se quedo resollando, justo fuera del circulo de
luz.

De pronto, en plena pelea, aparecio Balin. Los enanos habian oido ruidos a lo
lejos, y luego de esperar un rato a que Bilbo volviera o que gritara como una
lechuza, empezaron a arrastrarse hacia la luz tratando de no hacer ruido. Tan
pronto como Tom vio aparecer a Balin a la luz, dio un horrible aullido. Ocurre que
los trolls no soportan la vista de un enano (crudo). Berto y Guille dejaron en
seguida de pelear, y — Un saco, rapido, Tom — dijeron.

Antes de que Balin, quien se preguntaba donde estaba Bilbo en aquella
conmocion, se diera cuenta de lo que ocurria, le habian echado un saco sobre la
cabeza, y lo habian derribado.

— Aun vendran mas, o me equivoco bastante. Muchos y ninguno, eso es — dijo — .
No mas saquehobbits, pero muchos enanos. jEso es lo que queria decir!

— Pienso que tienes razon — dijo Berto — , y convendria que saliesemos de la luz.

Y asi hicieron. Teniendo en la mano unos sacos que usaban para llevar carneros y
otras presas, esperaron en las sombras. Cuando aparecia algun enano, y miraba
sorprendido el fuego, las jarras desbordadas y el carnero roido, ipop!, un saco
maloliente le caia sobre la cabeza, y el enano rodaba por el suelo. Pronto Dwalin
yacia al lado de Balin, y Fili y Kili juntos, y Dori y Nori y Ori en un monton, y 6in,
Gloin, Bifur, Bofur y Bombur incomodamente apilados cerca del fuego.

— Eso les ensehara — dijo Tom, ya que Bifur y Bombur habian causado muchos
problemas y habian peleado como locos, tal como hacen los enanos cuando se
ven acorralados.

Thorin llego ultimo, y no lo tomaron desprevenido. Llego esperando encontrar algo
malo, y no necesito ver las piernas de sus amigos sobresaliendo de los sacos para
darse cuenta de que las cosas no iban del todo bien. Se quedo fuera, algo aparte,
en las sombras, y dijo: — iQue es todo este jaleo? ^Quien esta aporreando a mi
gente?

— Son trolls — respondio Bilbo desde atras del arbol. Lo habian olvidado por
completo — . Estan escondidos entre los arbustos, con sacos.

— Oh, <j,son trolls? — dijo Thorin, y salto hacia el fuego cuando los trolls se
precipitaban sobre el. Alzo una rama gruesa que ardia en un extremo y Berto la
tuvo en un ojo antes de que pudiera esquivarla. Eso lo puso fuera de combate



26



durante un rato. Bilbo hizo todo lo que pudo. Se aferro de algun modo a una pierna
de Tom — era gruesa como el tronco de un arbol joven — , pero lo enviaron dando
vueltas hasta la copa de unos arbustos, mientras Tom pateaba las chispas hacia
la cara de Thorin. La rama golpeo los dientes de Tom, que perdio un incisive Esto
lo hizo aullar, os lo aseguro. Pero justo en ese momento. Guille aparecio detras y
le echo a Thorin un saco a la cabeza y se lo bajo hasta los pies. Y asi acabo la
lucha. Un bonito escabeche eran todos ellos ahora, primorosamente atados en
sacos, con tres trolls enfadados (dos con quemaduras y golpes que recordar)
sentados cerca, discutiendo si los asarian a fuego lento, si los picarian fino y luego
los cocerian, o bien si se sentarian sobre ellos, haciendolos papilla; y Bilbo en lo
alto de un arbusto, con la piel y las vestiduras rasgadas, no atreviendose a intentar
un movimiento, por miedo de que lo oyeran.

Fue entonces cuando volvio Gandalf, pero nadie lo vio. Los trolls acababan de
decidir que meterian a los enanos en el asador y se los comerian mas tarde; habia
sido idea de Berto, y tras una larga discusion todos estuvieron de acuerdo.

— No es buena idea asarlos ahora, nos llevaria toda la noche — dijo una voz. Berto
creyo que era la voz de Guille.

— No empecemos de nuevo la discusion, Guille — dijo el otro — , o si que nos
llevaria toda la noche.

— ^Quien esta discutiendo? — dijo Guille, creyendo que habia sido Berto el que
habia hablado.

— jTu! — dijo Berto.

— Eres un mentiroso — dijo Guille, y asi empezo otra vez la discusion. Por fin
decidieron picarlos y cocerlos, asi que trajeron una gran cacerola negra y sacaron
los cuchillos.

— jNo esta bien cocerlos! No tenemos agua y hay todo un buen trecho hasta el
pozo — dijo una voz. Berto y Guille creyeron que era la de Tom.

— jCalla o nunca acabaremos! Y tu mismo traeras el agua si dices una palabra
mas.

— jCallate tu! — dijo Tom, quien creyo que era la voz de Guille — . ^Quieue
cruzarlo despacio y con cuidado, en fila, llevando cada uno un poney por las
riendas. Los elfos habian traido faroles brillantes a la orilla y cantaron una
animada cancion mientras el grupo iba pasando.

— jNo mojes tu barba con la espuma, padre! — le gritaron a Thorin, que de tan
encorvado iba casi a gatas — , Ya es bastante larga sin necesidad de que la mojes.

— jCuidado con Bilbo, no se vaya a comer todos los bizcochos! — dijeron — .
jTodavia esta demasiado gordo para colarse por el agujero de la cerradura!

— jSilencio, silencio, Buena Gente! jY buenas noches! — dijo Gandalf, que habia
llegado ultimo — . Los valles tienen oidos, y algunos elfos tienen lenguas
demasiado sueltas. jBuenas noches!

Y asi llegaron por fin a la Ultima Morada y encontraron las puertas abiertas de par
en par.

Ahora bien, parece extraho, pero las cosas que es bueno tener y los dias que se
pasan de un modo agradable se cuentan muy pronto y no se les presta demasiada
atencion; en cambio, las cosas que son incomodas, estremecedoras, y aun
horribles, pueden hacer un buen relato, y ademas Neva tiempo contarlas. Se
quedaron muchos dias en aquella casa agradable, catorce al menos, y les costo
irse. Bilbo se hubiese quedado alii con gusto para siempre, incluso suponiendo
que un deseo hubiera podido transportarlo sin problemas directa mente de vuelta
al agujero — hobbit. No obstante, algo hay que contar sobre esta estancia,

El dueho de casa era amigo de los elfos, una de esas gentes cuyos padres
aparecen en cuentos extrahos, anteriores al principio de la historia misma, las
guerras de los trasgos malvados y los elfos, y los primeros hombres del Norte. En
los dias de nuestro relato, habia aun algunas gentes que descendian de los elfos y
los heroes del Norte; y Elrond, el dueho de casa, era el jefe de todos ellos.

Era tan noble y de facciones tan hermosas como un sehor de los elfos, fuerte
como un guerrero, sabio como un mago, venerable como un rey de los enanos, y
benevolo como el estio. Aparece en muchos relatos, pero la parte que desempeha
en la historia de la aventura de Bilbo es pequeha, aunque importante, como vereis,
si alguna vez llegamos a acabarla. La casa era perfecta tanto para comer o dormir
como para trabajar, o contar historias, o cantar, o simplemente sentarse y pensar
mejor, o una agradable mezcla de todo esto. La perversidad no tenia cabida en
aquel valle.



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Desearia tener tiempo para contaros solo unas pocas de las historias o una o dos
de las canciones que se oyeron entonces en aquella casa. Todos los viajeros,
incluyendo los poneys, se sintieron refrescados y fortalecidos luego de pasar alii
unos pocos dias. Les compusieron los vestidos, tanto como las magulladuras, el
humor, y las esperanzas. Les llenaron las alforjas con comida y provisiones de
poco peso, pero fortificantes, buenas para cruzar los desfiladeros. Les
aconsejaron bien y corrigieron los planes de la expedition. Asi llego el solsticio de
verano y se dispusieron a partir otra vez con los primeros rayos del sol estival.

Elrond lo sabia todo sobre runas de cualquier tipo. Aquel dia observo las espadas
que habian tornado en la guarida de los trolls y comento: — Esto no es obra de los
trolls. Son espadas antiguas, muy antiguas, de los Altos Elfos del Oeste, mis
parientes. Estan hechas en Gondolin para las guerras de los trasgos. Tienen que
haber sido parte del tesoro escondido de un dragon, o de un botin de los trasgos,
pues los dragones y los trasgos destruyeron esa ciudad hace muchos siglos. En
esta, Thorin, las runas dicen Orcrist, la Hiende Trasgos en la ancestral lengua de
Gondolin; fue una hoja famosa. Esta, Gandalf, fue Glamdrin, la Manilla Enemigos,
que una vez llevo el rey de Gondolin. jGuardadlas bien!

— <j,De donde las habran sacado los trolls, me pregunto? — murmuro Thorin
mirando su espada con renovado interes.

— No sabria decirlo — dijo Elrond — , pero puede suponerse que vuestros trolls
habran saqueado otros botines, o habran descubierto los restos de viejos robos en
alguna cueva de las montahas. He oido que hay quiza todavia tesoros ignotos en
las cavernas desiertas de las minas de Moria, desde la guerra de los enanos y los
trasgos.

Thorin medito estas palabras. — Llevare esta espada con honor — dijo — . jOjala
pronto hienda trasgos otra vez!

— jUn deseo que quiza se cumpla muy pronto en los montes! — dijo Elrond — .
jPero mostradme ahora vuestro mapa!

Lo tomo y lo miro largo rato, y meneo la cabeza; pues si no aprobaba del todo a
los enanos y el amor que le tenian al oro, odiaba a los dragones y la cruel
perversidad de estas bestias, y se afligio al recordar la ruina de la ciudad de Valle
y aquellas campanas alegres, y las riberas incendiadas del centelleante Rio
Rapido. La luna resplandecia en un amplio cuarto creciente de plata. Elrond alzo
el mapa y la luz blanca lo atraveso. — iQue es esto? — dijo — . Hay letras lunares
aqui junto a las runas y que dicen "cinco pies de altura y tres pasan con holgura".

— «j,Que son las letras lunares? — pregunto el hobbit muy excitado. Le encantaban
los mapas, como ya os he dicho antes; y tambien le gustaban las runas, y las
letras, y las escrituras ingeniosas, aunque el escribia con letras delgadas y como
patas de araha.

— Las letras lunares son letras runicas, pero que no se pueden ver — dijo Elrond — ,
no al menos directamente. Solo se las ve cuando la luna brilla por detras, y en los
ejemplos mas ingeniosos la fase de la luna y la estacion tienen que ser las mismas
que en el dia en que fueron escritas. Los enanos las inventaron y las escribian con



35



plumas de plata, como tus amigos te pueden contar. Estas tienen que haber sido
escritas en una noche del solsticio de verano con luna creciente, hace ya largo
tiempo.

— <j,Que es lo que dicen? — preguntaron Gandalf y Thorin a la vez, un poco
fastidiados quiza de que Elrond las hubiese descubierto primero, aunque es cierto
que hasta entonces no habian tenido la oportunidad, y no volverian a tenerla quien
sabe por cuanto tiempo.

— Estad cerca de la piedra gris cuando Name el zorzal — leyo Elrond — y el sol
poniente brillara sobre el ojo de la cerradura con las ultimas luces del Dia de
Durin.

— i Durin, Durin! — exclamo Thorin. — . Era el padre de los padres de la mas antigua
raza de Enanos, los Barbiluengos, y mi primer antepasado: yo soy el heredero de
Durin.

— Pero ^cuando es el Dia de Durin? — pregunto Elrond.

— El primer dia del Aho Nuevo de los enanos — dijo Thorin — . Como todos sabeis
sin duda, el primer dia de la ultima luna otohal, en los umbrales del invierno.
Todavia llamamos Dia de Durin a aquel en que el sol y la ultima luna de otoho
estan juntos en el cielo. Pero me temo que esto no ayudara, pues nadie sabe hoy
cuando este tiempo se presentara otra vez.

— Eso esta por verse — dijo Gandalf — i Hay algo mas escrito?

— Nada que se revele con esta luna — dijo Elrond, y le devolvio el mapa a Thorin; y
luego bajaron al agua para ver a los elfos que bailaban y cantaban en la noche del
solsticio.

La mahana siguiente, la mahana del solsticio, fue tan hermosa y fresca como
hubiera podido soharse: un cielo azul sin nubes, y el sol que brillaba en el agua.
Partieron entonces entre cantos de despedida y buen viaje, con los corazones
dispuestos a nuevas aventuras, y sabiendo por donde tenian que ir para cruzar las
Montahas Nubladas hacia la tierra de mas alia.



SOBRE LA COLINA Y BAJO LA COLINA

Habia muchas sendas que subian internandose en aquellas montahas, y sobre
ellas muchos desfiladeros. Pero la mayoria de estas sendas eran engahosas y
decepcionantes, o no llevaban a ningun lado, o acababan mal; y la mayoria de
estos desfiladeros estaba infestada de criaturas malvadas y de peligros
horrorosos. Los enanos y el hobbit, ayudados por el sabio consejo de Elrond y los
conocimientos y la memoria de Gandalf, tomaron el camino que llegaba al
desfiladero apropiado.

Muchos dias despues de haber remontado el valle y de dejar millas atras la Ultima
Morada, todavia seguian subiendo y subiendo. Era una senda escabrosa y
peligrosa, un camino tortuoso, desierto y largo. Al fin pudieron volverse a mirar las



36



tierras que habian dejado, alia abajo en la distancia. Lejos, muy lejos en el
poniente, donde las cosas eran azules y tenues, Bilbo sabia que estaba su propio
pais, con casas seguras y comodas, y el pequeno agujero — hobbit. Se estremecio.
Empezaba a sentirse un frio cortante alii arriba, y el viento silbaba entre las rocas.
Tambien, a veces, unos cantos rodados bajaban a saltos por las laderas de la
montana — los habia soltado el sol de mediodia sobre la nieve — y pasaban entre
ellos (lo que era afortunado) o sobre sus cabezas (lo que era alarmante). Las
noches se sucedian incomodas y muy Mas, y no se atrevian a cantar ni a hablar
demasiado alto, pues los ecos eran extranos y parecia que al silencio le molestaba
que lo quebrasen, excepto con el ruido del agua, el quejido del viento y el crujido
de la piedra.

"El verano esta llegando alia abajo" penso Bilbo. "Y ya empiezan la siega del heno
y las meriendas. A este paso estaran recolectando y recogiendo moras aun antes
de que empecemos a bajar del otro lado." Y los de mas tenian tambien
pensamientos lugubres de este tipo, aunque cuando se habian despedido de
Elrond alentados por la mahana de verano, habian hablado alegremente del cruce
de las montanas y de cabalgar al galope por las tierras que se extendian mas alia.
Habian pensado llegar a la puerta secreta de la Montana Solitaria tal vez en esa
misma primera luna de otoho. — Y quiza sea el Dia de Durin — habian dicho. Solo
Gandalf habia meneado en silencio la cabeza. Ningun enano habia atravesado
ese paso desde hacia muchos ahos, pero Gandalf si, y conocia el mal y el peligro
que habian crecido y aumentado en las tierras salvajes desde que los dragones
habian expulsado de alii a los hombres, y desde que los trasgos habian ocupado
la region en secreto despues de la batalla de las Minas de Moria. Aun los buenos
planes de magos sabios como Gandalf, y de buenos amigos como Elrond, se
olvidan a veces, cuando uno esta lejos en peligrosas aventuras al borde del
Yermo; y Gandalf era un mago bastante sabio como para tenerlo en cuenta.

Sabia que algo inesperado podia ocurrir, y apenas se atrevia a desear que no
tuvieran alguna aventura horrible en aquellas grandes y altas montanas de picos y
valles solitarios, donde no gobernaba ningun rey. Nada ocurrio. Todo marcho bien,
hasta que un dia se encontraron con una tormenta de truenos; mas que una
tormenta era una batalla de truenos. Sabeis que terrible puede llegar a ser una
verdadera tormenta de truenos alia abajo en el valle del no; sobre todo cuando
dos grandes tormentas se encuentran y se baten. Mas terribles todavia son los
truenos y los relampagos en las montanas por la noche, cuando las tormentas
vienen del este y del oeste y luchan entre ellas. El relampago se hace trizas sobre
los picos, y las rocas tiemblan, y unos enormes estruendos parten el aire, y entran
rodando a los tumbos en todas las cuevas y agujeros y un ruido abrumador y una
claridad subita invaden la oscuridad.

Bilbo nunca habia visto o imaginado nada semejante. Estaban muy arriba en un
lugar estrecho, y a un lado un precipicio espantoso caia sobre un valle sombrio.
Alii pasaron la noche, al abrigo de una roca; Bilbo tendido bajo una manta y
temblando de pies a cabeza. Cuando miro fuera, vio a la luz de los relampagos los
gigantes de piedra abajo en el valle; habian salido y ahora jugaban tirandose
piedras unos a otros; las re — cogian y las arrojaban en la oscuridad, y alia abajo



37



se rompian o desmenuzaban entre los arboles. Luego llegaron el viento y la lluvia,
y el viento azotaba la lluvia y el granizo en todas direcciones, por lo que el refugio
de la roca no los protegia mucho. Al rato estaban empapados hasta los huesos y
los poneys se encogfan, bajaban la cabeza, y metian la cola entre las patas, y
algunos re linchaban de miedo. Las risotadas y los gritos de los gigantes podian
oirse por encima de todas las laderas.

— jEsto no ira bien! — dijo Thorin — , Si no salimos despedidos, o nos ahogamos, o
nos alcanza un rayo, nos atrapara alguno de esos gigantes y de una patada nos
mandara al cielo como una pelota de futbol.

— Bien, si sabes de un sitio mejor, jllevanos alii! — dijo Gandalf, quien se sentia
muy malhumorado, y no estaba nada contento con los gigantes.

El final de la discusion fue enviar a Fili y Kili en busca de un refugio mejor. Tenian
ojos muy penetrantes, y siendo los enanos mas jovenes (unos cincuenta anos
menos que los otros), se ocupaban por lo comun de este tipo de tareas (cuando
todos comprendfan que seria inutil enviar a Bilbo). No hay nada como mirar, si
quereis encontrar algo (al menos eso decia Thorin a los enanos jovenes).

Cierto que casi siempre, se encuentra algo, si se mira, pero no siempre es lo que
uno busca. Asi ocurrio en esta ocasion.

Fili y Kili pronto estuvieron de vuelta, arrastrandose, doblados por el viento,
aferrandose a las rocas. — Hemos encontrado una cueva seca — dijeron — ,
doblando el proximo recodo no muy lejos de aqui; y caben poneys y todo.

— ^La habeis explorado afondo? — dijo el mago, que sabia que las cuevas de las
montanas raras veces estan sin ocupar.

— jSi, si! — dijeron Fili y Kili, aunque todos sabian que no podian haber estado alii
mucho tiempo; habian regresado casi en seguida — . No es demasiado grande y
tampoco muy profunda.

Naturalmente, esto es lo peligroso de las cuevas; a veces uno no sabe lo
profundas que son, o a donde puede llevar un pasadizo, o lo que te espera dentro.
Pero en aquel momento las noticias de Fili y Kili parecieron bastante buenas. Asi
que todos se levantaron y se prepararon para trasladarse. El viento aullaba y el
trueno retumbaba aun, y era dificil moverse con los poneys. De todos modos, la
cueva no estaba muy lejos. Al poco tiempo llegaron a una gran roca que
sobresalia en la senda. Detras, en la ladera de la montaha, se abria un arco bajo.

Habia espacio suficiente para que pasaran los poneys apretujados, una vez que
les quitaran las sillas. Debajo del arco era agradable oir el viento y la lluvia fuera y
no cayendo sobre ellos, y sentirse a salvo de los gigantes y sus rocas. Pero el
mago no queria correr riesgos. Encendio su vara — como aquel dia en el comedor
de Bilbo que ahora parecia tan lejano, si lo recordais — y con la luz exploraron la
cueva de extremo a extreme

Parecia de buen tamaho, pero no era demasiado grande ni misteriosa. Tenia el
suelo seco y algunos rincones comodos. En uno de ellos habia lugar para los
poneys, y alii permanecieron las bestias muy contentas del cambio, humeando y



38



mascando en los morrales. 6in y Gloin querian encender una hoguera en la
entrada para secarse la ropa, pero Gandalf no quiso ni ofrlo. Asi que tendieron las
cosas humedas en el suelo y sacaron otras secas; luego ahuecaron las mantas,
sacaron las pipas e hicieron anillos de humo que Gandalf volvia de diferentes
colores y hacia bailar en el techo para entretenerlos. Charlaron y charlaron, y
olvidaron la tormenta, y discutieron lo que cada uno haria con su parte del tesoro
(cuando lo tuviesen, lo que de momento no parecia tan imposible); y asi fueron
quedandose dormidos uno tras otro. Y esa fue la ultima vez que usaron los
poneys, los paquetes, equipajes, herramientas y todo lo que habian traido con
ellos.

No obstante, fue una suerte esa noche que hubiesen traido al pequeno Bilbo.
Porque, por alguna razon, Bilbo no pudo dormirse hasta muy tarde; y luego tuvo
unos suenos horribles. Sono que una grieta en la pared del fondo de la cueva se
agrandaba y se agrandaba, abriendose mas y mas; y el estaba muy asustado pero
no podia gritar, ni hacer otra cosa que seguir acostado, mirando. Despues soho
que el suelo de la cueva cedia, y que se deslizaba, y que el empezaba a caer, a
caer, quien sabe a donde.

En ese momento desperto con un horrible sobresalto y se encontro con que parte
del sueho era verdad. Una grieta se habia abierto al fondo de la cueva y era ya un
pasadizo ancho. Apenas si tuvo tiempo de ver la ultima de las colas de los poneys,
que desaparecia en la sombra. Por supuesto, lanzo un chillido estridente, tanto
como puede llegar a serlo un chillido de hobbit, bastante asombroso si tenemos en
cuenta el tamaho de estas criaturas.

Afuera saltaron los trasgos, trasgos grandes, trasgos enormes de cara fea,
montones de trasgos, antes que nadie pudiera decir "pehas y brehas". Habia por
lo menos seis para cada enano, y dos mas para Bilbo; y los apresaron a todos y
los llevaron por la hendedura, antes que nadie pudiera decir "madera y hoguera".
Pero no a Gandalf. Eso fue lo bueno del grito de Bilbo. Lo habia despertado por
completo en una decima de segundo y cuando los trasgos iban a ponerle las
manos encima, hubo un destello terrorifico como un relampago en la cueva, un
olor como de polvora, y varios cayeron muertos.

La grieta se cerro de golpe jy Bilbo y los enanos estaban en el lado equivocado!
^Donde se encontraba Gandalf? De eso ni ellos ni los trasgos tenian la menor
idea, y los trasgos no esperaron a averiguarlo. Tomaron a Bilbo y a los enanos, y
los hicieron andar a toda prisa. El sitio era profundo, profundo y oscuro, tanto que
solo los trasgos que habian tenido la ocurrencia de vivir en el corazon de las
montahas podian distinguir algo. Los pasadizos se cruzaban y confundian en
todas direcciones, pero los trasgos conocian el camino tan bien como vosotros el
de la oficina de correos mas proxima; y el camino descendia y descendia y la
atmosfera era cada vez mas enrarecida y horrorosa. Los trasgos eran muy brutos,
pellizcaban sin compasion, y reian entre dientes o a carcajadas, con voces
horribles y petreas; y Bilbo se sentia mas desgraciado aun que cuando el troll lo
habia levantado tirandole de los dedos de los pies. Una y otra vez se encontraba
ahorando el agradable y reluciente agujero hobbit. No seria esta la ultima ocasion.



39



De pronto aparecio ante ellos el resplandor de una luz roja. Los trasgos
empezaron a cantar, a croar, golpeteando los pies pianos sobre la piedra, y
sacudiendo tambien a los prisioneros.



jAzota! jVoltea! jl_a negra abertura!
jAtrapa, arrebata! jPellizca, apanusca!
jBajando, bajando, al pueblo de trasgos,
vas tu, muchacho!

jEmbute, golpea! jEstruja, revienta!
Martillo y tenaza! jBatintin y maza!
jMachaca, machaca, a los subterraneos!
ijo, jo, muchacho!

jLacera, apachurra! jChasquea los latigos!
jAulla y solloza! jSacude, aporrea!
jTrabaja, trabaja! jA huir no te atrevas,
mientras los trasgos beben y carcajean!
jRondando, rodando, por el subterraneo!
jAbajo, muchacho!

El canto era realmente terrorifico, las paredes resonaban con el jazota, volea! y
con el jestruja, revienta! y con la inquietante carcajada de los jjo, jo, muchacho! El
significado de la cancion era demasiado evidente; pues ahora los trasgos sacaron
los latigos y los azotaron con gritos de jlacera, apachurra!, haciendolos correr
delante tan rapido como les era posible; y mas de uno de los enanos estaba ya
desgahitandose con aullidos incomparables, cuando entraron todos a los
trompicones en una enorme caverna.

Estaba iluminada por una gran hoguera roja en el centro y por antorchas a lo largo
de las paredes, y habia alii muchos trasgos. Todos se reian, pateaban y batian
palmas, cuando los enanos (con el pobrecito Bilbo detras y mas al alcance de los
latigos) llegaron corriendo, mientras los trasgos que los arreaban daban gritos y
chasqueaban los latigos detras. Los poneys estaban ya agrupados en un rincon; y
alii tirados estaban todos los sacos y paquetes, rotos y abiertos, revueltos por
trasgos, y olidos por trasgos, y manoseados por trasgos, y disputados por trasgos.

Me temo que fue lo ultimo que vieron de aquellos excelentes poneys, incluyendo
un magnifico ejemplar bianco, pequeho y vigoroso, que Elrond habia prestado a



40



Gandalf, ya que el caballo no era apropiado para los senderos de la montana.
Porque los trasgos comen caballos y poneys y burros (y otras cosas mucho mas
espantosas), y siempre tienen hambre. Sin embargo, los prisioneros solo
pensaban ahora en si mismos. Los trasgos les encadenaron las manos a la
espalda y los unieron a todos en linea, y los arrastraron hasta el rincon mas lejano
de la caverna con el pequeno Bilbo remolcado al extremo de la hilera.

Alia, entre las sombras, sobre una gran piedra lisa, estaba sentado un trasgo
terrible de cabeza enorme, y unos trasgos armados permanecian de pie alrededor
blandiendo las hachas y las espadas curvas que ellos usan. Ahora bien, los
trasgos son crueles, malvados y de mal corazon. No hacen nada bonito, pero si
muchas cosas ingeniosas. Pueden excavar tuneles y minas tan bien como
cualquier enano no demasiado diestro, cuando se toman la molestia, aunque
comunmente son desaseados y sucios. Martillos, hachas, espadas, puhales, picos
y pinzas, y tambien instrumentos de tortura, los hacen muy bien, o consiguen que
otra gente los haga, prisioneros o esclavos obligados a trabajar hasta que mueren
por falta de aire y luz. Es probable que ellos hayan inventado algunas de las
maquinas que desde entonces preocupan al mundo, en especial ingeniosos
aparatos que matan enormes cantidades de gente de una vez, pues las ruedas y
los motores y las explosiones siempre les encantaron, como tambien no trabajar
con sus propias manos mas de lo indispensable; pero en aquellos dias, y en
aquellos parajes agrestes, no habian ido (como se dice) todavia tan lejos. No
odiaban especialmente a los enanos, no mas de lo que odiaban a todos y todo, y
particularmente lo metodico y prospero; en ciertos lugares unos enanos malvados
han llegado a pactar con ellos. Pero tenian particular aversion por la gente de
Thorin a causa de la guerra que habeis oido mencionar, pero que no viene a
cuento en esta historia; y de todos modos a los trasgos no les preocupa a quien
capturan, en tanto puedan dar el golpe en secreto y de un modo ingenioso, y los
prisioneros no sean capaces de defenderse.

— ^Quienes son esas miserables personas? — dijo el Gran Trasgo.

— jEnanos, y esto! — dijo uno de los captores, tirando de la cadena de Bilbo de tal
modo que el hobbit cayo delante de rodillas — . Los encontramos refugiados en
nuestro Porche Principal,

— «j,Que pretendiais? — dijo el Gran Trasgo volviendose hacia Thorin — . jNada
bueno, podria asegurarlo! jEspiar los asuntos privados de mis gentes, supongo!
jLadrones, no me sorprenderia saber que lo sois! jAsesinos y amigos de los elfos,
sin duda alguna! jVen! <j,Que tienes que decir?

— jThorin el enano a vuestro servicio! — replied Thorin: una mera naderia cortes —
De las cosas que sospechas e imaginas no tenemos la menor idea. Nos
resguardamos de una tormenta en lo que parecia una cueva comoda y no usada;
nada mas lejos de nuestro pensamiento que molestar de algun modo a los
trasgos. — jEsto era bastante cierto!

— jHum! — gruho el Gran Trasgo — . jEso es lo que dices! ^Podria preguntarte que
haciais alia arriba en las montahas, y de donde venis y adonde vais? En realidad
me gustaria saber todo sobre vosotros. No digo que pueda serviros de algo,



41



Thorin Escudo de Roble, ya se demasiado de tu gente; pero conozcamos de una
vez la verdad. jDe lo contrario preparare para vosotros algo particularmente
incomodo!

— (bamos de viaje a visitar a nuestros parientes, nuestros sobrinos y sobrinas, y
primeros, segundos y terceros primos, y otros descendientes de nuestros abuelos,
que viven del lado oriental de estas realmente hospitalarias montanas — respondio
Thorin, no sabiendo muy bien que decir asi de repente, pues era obvio que la
verdad exacta no vendria a cuento.

— jEs un mentiroso, oh tu en verdad el Terrible!

— dijo uno de los captores — . Varios de los nuestros fueron fulminados por un rayo
en la cueva cuando invitamos a estas criaturas a que bajaran, y estan tan muertos
como piedras. jTampoco nos ha explicado esto!

— Sostuvo en alto la espada que Thorin habia llevado, la espada que procedia del
cubil de los trolls.

El Gran Trasgo dio un aullido de rabia realmente horrible cuando vio la espada, y
todos los soldados crujieron los dientes, batieron los escudos, y patearon.
Reconocieron la espada al momento. En otro tiempo habia dado muerte a cientos
de trasgos, cuando tos elfos rubios de Gondolin los cazaron en las colinas o
combatieron al pie de las murallas. La habian denominado Orcrist, Hiende
Trasgos, pero los trasgos la llamaban simplemente Mordedora. La odiaban, y
odiaban todavia mas a cualquiera que la llevase.

— jAsesinos y amigos de los elfos! — grito el Gran Trasgo — . jAcuchilladlos!
jGolpeadlos! jMordedlos! jQue les rechinen los dientes! jLlevadlos a agujeros
oscuros repletos de viboras y que nunca vuelvan a ver la luz!



— Tenia tanta rabia que salto del asiento y se lanzo con la boca abierta hacia
Thorin.

Justo en ese momento todas las luces de la caverna se apagaron, y la gran
hoguera se convirtio, jpuf!, en una torre de resplandeciente humo azul que subia
hasta el techo, esparciendo penetrantes chispas blancas entre todos los trasgos.

Los gritos y lamentos, gruhidos, farfulleos y chapurreos, aullidos, alaridos y
maldiciones, chillidos y graznidos que siguieron entonces, eran indescriptibles.
Varios cientos de gatos salvajes y lobos asados vivos, todos juntos y despacio, no
hubieran hecho tanto alboroto. Las chispas ardian abriendo agujeros en los
trasgos, y el humo que ahora caia del techo oscurecia tanto el aire, que ni siquiera
ellos mismos podian ver. Pronto empezaron a caer unos sobre otros y a rodar en
montones por el suelo, mordiendo, pateando y peleando, como si todos se
hubieran vuelto locos.

De repente una espada destello con luz propia. Bilbo vio que atravesaba de lado a
lado al Gran Trasgo, mudo de asombro y furioso a la vez. Cayo muerto, y los
soldados trasgos, huyendo y gritando delante de la espada, desaparecieron en la
oscuridad.



42



La espada volvio a la vaina. — jSeguidme a prisa! — dijo una voz fiera y queda. Y
antes que Bilbo comprendiese lo que habia ocurrido, estaba ya trotando de nuevo,
tan rapido como podia, al final de la columna, bajando por mas pasadizos oscuros
mientras los alaridos del salon de los trasgos quedaban atras, cada vez mas
debiles. Una luz palida los guiaba.

— jMas rapido, mas rapido! — decia la voz — . Pronto volveran a encender las
antorchas.

— jEspera un momento! — dijo Dori, que estaba detras, al lado de Bilbo, y era un
excelente companero. Como mejor pudo, con las manos atadas, consiguio que el
hobbit se le subiera a los hombros, y luego echaron todos a correr, con un tintineo
de cadenas y mas de un tropezon, ya que no tenian manos para sostenerse. No
se detuvieron por un largo rato, cuando ya estaban sin duda en el corazon mismo
de la montana.



Entonces Gandalf encendio la vara. Por supuesto, era Gandalf; pero en ese
momento todos estaban demasiado ocupados para preguntar como habia llegado
alii. Volvio a sacar la espada, y una vez mas la hoja destello en la oscuridad; ardia
con una furia centelleante si habia trasgos alrededor, y ahora brillaba como una
llama azul por el deleite de haber matado al gran sehor de la cueva. No le costo
nada cortar las cadenas de los trasgos y liberar lo mas rapido posible a todos los
prisioneros. El nombre de esta espada, recordareis, era Glamdrin, Manilla
Enemigos. Los trasgos la llamaban simplemente Demoledora, y la odiaban, si eso
es posible, todavia mas que a Mordedora. Tambien Orcrist habia sido salvada,
pues Gandalf se la habia arrebatado a uno de los guardias aterrorizados. Gandalf
pensaba en todo; y aunque no podia hacer cualquier cosa, ayudaba siempre a los
amigos en aprietos,

— ^Estamos todos aqui? — dijo, entregando la espada a Thorin con una
reverencia — . Veamos: uno, Thorin; dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, ocho,
nueve, diez, once. ^Donde estan Fili y Kili? jAqui! Doce, trece... y he ahi al sehor
Bolson: jcatorce! jBien, bien! Podria ser peor, y sin embargo podria ser mucho
mejor. Sin poneys, y sin comida, y sin saber muy bien donde estamos, jy unas
hordas de trasgos furiosos justo detras! jSigamos adelante!

Siguieron adelante. Gandalf estaba en lo cierto: se oyeron ruidos de trasgos y
unos gritos horribles alia detras a lo lejos, en los pasadizos que habian
atravesado, Se apresuraron entonces todavia mas, y como el pobre Bilbo no podia
seguirles el paso — pues los enanos son capaces de correr mas deprisa, os lo
aseguro, cuando tienen que hacerlo — se turnaron llevandolo a hombros.

Sin embargo los trasgos corren mas que los enanos, y estos trasgos conocian
mejor el camino (ellos mismos habian abierto los tuneles), y estaban locos de
furia; asi que hiciesen lo que hiciesen, los enanos oian los gritos y aullidos que se
acercaban cada vez mas. Muy pronta alcanzaron a oir el ruido de los pies de los
trasgos, muchos, muchos pies que parecian estar a la vuelta del ultimo recodo. El
destello de las antorchas rojas podia verse detras de ellos en el tunel; y ya
empezaban a sentirse muertos de cansancio.



43



— jPor que, oh por que habre dejado mi agujero — hobbit! — decia el pobre sehor
Bolson, mientras se sacudia hacia arriba y abajo sobre el pobre sehor Bolson,
mientras se sacudia hacia arriba y abajo sobre la espalda de Bombur.

— jPor que, oh por que habre traido a este pobrecito hobbit, a buscar el tesoro! —
decia el desdichado Bombur que era gordo, y se bamboleaba mientras el sudor le
caia en gotas de la nariz a causa del calor y el terror,

En aquel momento Gandalf se retraso, y Thorin con el. Doblaron un recodo
cerrado. — jEstan a la vuelta! — grito el mago — . jDesenvaina tu espada, Thorin!

No habia mas que hacer, y a los trasgos no les gusto. Venian corriendo a toda
prisa y dando gritos, y al llegar al recodo tropezaron atonitos con la Hiende
Trasgos y la Martilla Enemigos que brillaban Mas y luminosas. Los que iban
delante arrojaron las antorchas y dieron un alarido antes de morir. Los de atras
aullaban siguiendolos. — jMordedora y Demoledora! — chillaron; y pronto todos
estuvieron envueltos en una completa confusion, y la mayoria se apresuro a
regresar por donde habia venido.

Paso bastante tiempo antes que cualquiera de ellos se atreviese a doblar aquel
recodo. Mientras, los enanos se habian puesto otra vez en marcha, siguiendo un
largo camino que los llevaba a los tuneles oscuros del pais de los trasgos. Cuando
los trasgos se dieron cuenta, apagaron las antorchas y se deslizaron pisando con
cuidado, y eligieron a los corredores mas veloces, aquellos que tenian oidos como
comadrejas en la oscuridad, y eran casi tan silenciosos como murcielagos.

Asi ocurrio que ni Bilbo, ni los enanos, ni siquiera Gandalf, los oyeron llegar, ni
tampoco los vieron. Pero los trasgos los vieron a ellos, pues la vara de Gandalf
emitia una luz debil que ayudaba a los enanos a encontrar el camino.

De repente Dori, que ahora otra vez coma a la cola llevando a Bilbo, fue aferrado
por detras en la oscuridad. Grito y cayo; y el hobbit rodo de los hombros de Dori a
la negrura, se golpeo la cabeza contra una piedra, y no recordo nada mas.

ACERTIJOS EN LAS TINIEBLAS

Cuando Bilbo abrio los ojos, se pregunto si en verdad los habria abierto; pues todo
estaba tan oscuro como si los tuviese cerrados. No habia nadie cerca, de el.
jlmaginaos que terror! No podia ver nada, ni oir nada, ni sentir nada, excepto la
piedra del suelo.

Se incorporo muy lentamente y anduvo a tientas hasta tropezar con la pared del
tunel; pero ni hacia arriba ni hacia abajo pudo encontrar nada, nada en absoluto, ni
rastro de trasgos o enanos. La cabeza le daba vueltas y ni siquiera podia decir en
que direccion habrian ido los otros cuando cayo de bruces. Trato de orientarse de
algun modo, y se arrastro largo trecho hasta que de pronto toco con la mano algo
que parecia un anillo pequeho, trio y metalico, en el suelo del tunel. Este iba a ser
un momento decisivo en la carrera de Bilbo, pero el no lo sabia. Casi sin darse
cuenta se metio la sortija en el bolsillo. Por cierto, no parecia tener ninguna utilidad
por ahora. No avanzo mucho mas; se sento en el suelo helado, abandonandose a



44



un completo abatimiento. Se imaginaba friendo huevos y panceta en la cocina de
su propia casa — pues alcanzaba a sentir, dentro de el, que era la hora de alguna
comida — , pero esto solo lo hacia mas miserable.

No sabia a donde ir, ni que habia ocurrido, ni por que lo habian dejado atras, o por
que, si lo habian dejado atras, los trasgos no lo habian capturado; no sabia ni
siquiera por que tenia la cabeza tan dolorida. La verdad es que habia estado
mucho tiempo tendido y quieto, invisible y olvidado en un rincon muy oscuro.

Al cabo de un rato se palpo las ropas buscando la pipa. No estaba rota, y eso era
algo. Busco luego la petaca, y habia algun tabaco, lo que ya era algo mas, y luego
busco las cerillas y no encontro ninguna, y esto lo desanimo por completo. Solo el
cielo sabe que cosa hubiera podido caer sobre el atraida por el roce de las cerillas
y el olor del tabaco. Pero por ahora se sentia muy abatido. No obstante,
rebuscando en los bolsillos y palpandose de arriba a abajo en busca de cerillas,
topo con la empuhadura de la pequeha espada, la daga que habia obtenido de los
trolls y que casi habia olvidado; por fortuna, tampoco los trasgos la habian
descubierto, pues la llevaba dentro de los calzones.

Entonces la desenvaino. La espada brillo palida y debil ante los ojos de Bilbo. "Asi
que es una hoja de los elfos, tambien" penso, "y los trasgos no estan muy cerca,
aunque tampoco bastante lejos."

Pero de alguna manera se sintio reconfortado. Era bastante bueno llevar una hoja
forjada en Gondolin para las guerras de los trasgos de las que habia cantado
tantas canciones; y tambien habia notado que esas armas causaban gran
impresion entre los trasgos que tropezaban con ellas de improviso.

"^Volver?" penso. "No sirve de nada. <j,ir por algun camino lateral? jlmposible! <j,lr
hacia adelante? jNo hay alternativa! jAdelante pues!" Y se incorporo y troto
llevando la espada alzada frente a el, una mano en la pared y el corazon
palpitando.

Era evidente que Bilbo se encontraba en lo que puede llamarse un sitio estrecho.
Pero recordad que no era tan estrecho para el como lo habria sido para vosotros o
para mi. Los hobbits no se parecen mucho a la gente ordinaria, y aunque sus
agujeros son unas viviendas muy agradables y acogedoras, adecuadamente
ventiladas, muy distintas de los tuneles de los trasgos, estan mas acostumbrados
que nosotros a andar por galenas, y no pierden facilmente el sentido de la
orientation bajo tierra, no cuando ya se han recobrado de un golpe en el craneo.
Tambien pueden moverse muy en silencio y esconderse con rapidez; se
recuperan de un modo maravilloso de caidas y magulladuras, y tienen un fondo de
prudencia y unos dichos juiciosos que la mayoria de los hombres no ha oido
nunca o ha olvidado hace tiempo,

De cualquier modo no me hubiera sentido a gusto en el sitio donde estaba el sehor
Bilbo. La galena parecia no tener fin. Todo lo que el sabia era que seguia bajando,
siempre en la misma direction, a pesar de un recodo y una o dos vueltas. Habia
pasadizos que partian de los lados aqui y alia, como podia saber por el brillo de la
espada, o podia sentir con la mano en la pared. No les presto atencion, pero
apresuraba el paso por temor a los trasgos o a cosas oscuras imaginadas a



45



medias que asomaban en las bocas de los pasadizos. Adelante y adelante siguio,
bajando y bajando; y toda via no se oia nada, excepto el zumbido ocasional de un
murcielago que se le acercaba, asustandolo en un principio, pero que luego se
repitio tanto que el dejo de preocuparse. No se cuanto tiempo continuo asi,
odiando seguir adelante, no atreviendose a parar, adelante y adelante, hasta que
estuvo mas cansado que cansado. Parecia que el camino continuaria asi al dia
siguiente y mas alia, perdiendose en los dias que vendrian despues.

De pronto, sin ningun aviso, se encontro trotando en un agua fria como hielo. jUf!
Esto lo reanimo, rapida y bruscamente. No sabia si el agua era solo un estanque
en medio del camino, la orilla de un arroyo que cruzaba el tunel bajo tierra, o el
borde del lago subterraneo, oscuro y profundo. La espada apenas brillaba. Se
detuvo, y escuchando con atencion alcanzo a oir unas gotas que caian desde un
techo invisible en el agua de abajo; pero no parecia haber ningun otro tipo de
ruido.

"De modo que es un lago o un pozo, y no un no subterraneo" penso. Aun asi no
se atrevio a meterse en el agua a oscuras. No sabia nadar, y ademas pensaba en
las criaturas barrosas y repugnantes, de ojos saltones y ciegos, que culebreaban
sin duda en el agua. Hay extranos seres que viven en pozos y lagos en el corazon
de los montes; pero cuyos antepasados llegaron nadando, solo el cielo sabe hace
cuanto tiempo, y nunca volvieron a salir, y los ojos les crecian, crecian y crecian
mientras trataban de ver en la oscuridad; y alii hay tambien criaturas mas viscosas
que peces. Aun en los tuneles y cuevas que los trasgos habian excavado para si
mismos, hay otras cosas vivas que ellos desconocen, cosas que han venido
arrastrandose desde fuera para descansar en la oscuridad. Ademas, los origenes
de algunos de estos tuneles se remontan a epocas anteriores a los trasgos,
quienes solo los ampliaron y unieron con pasadizos, y los primeros propietarios
estan todavia alii, en raros rincones, deslizandose y olfateando todo alrededor.

Aqui abajo junto al agua lobrega vivia el viejo Gollum, una pequeha y viscosa
criatura. No se de donde habia venido, ni quien o que era. Era Gollum: tan oscuro
como la oscuridad, excepto dos grandes ojos redondos y palidos en la cara flaca.
Tenia un pequeho bote y remaba muy en silencio por el lago, pues lago era,
ancho, profundo y mortalmente frio. Remaba con los grandes pies colgando sobre
la borda, pero nunca agitaba el agua. No el. Los ojos palidos e inexpresivos
buscaban peces ciegos alrededor, y los atrapaba con los dedos largos, rapidos
como el pensamiento. Le gustaba tambien la carne. Los trasgos le parecian
buenos, cuando podia echarles mano; pero trataba de que nunca lo encontraran
desprevenido. Los estrangulaba por la espalda si alguna vez bajaba uno de ellos
hasta la orilla del agua, mientras el rondaba en busca de una presa. Rara vez lo
hacian, pues tenian el presentimiento de que algo desagradable acechaba en las
profundidades, debajo de la raiz misma de la montaha. Cuando excavaban los
tuneles, tiempo atras, habian llegado hasta el lago y descubrieron que no podian ir
mas lejos. De modo que para ellos el camino terminaba en esa direccion, y de
nada les valia merodear por alii, a menos que el Gran Trasgo los enviase. A veces
tenian la ocurrencia de buscar peces en el lago, y a veces ni el trasgo ni el
pescado volvian.



46



Gollum vivia en verdad en una isla de roca barrosa en medio del lago. Observaba
a Bilbo desde lejos con los ojos palidos como telescopios. Bilbo no podia verlo,
mientras Gollum lo miraba, perplejo; parecia evidente que no era un trasgo.

Gollum se metio en el bote y se alejo de la isla. Bilbo, sentado a orillas del agua,
se sentia desconcertado, como si hubiese perdido el camino y el juicio. De pronto
asomo Gollum, que cuchicheo y siseo:

— jBendicenos y salpicanos, preciosso mio! Me huelo un banquete selecto; por lo
menos nos daria para un sabroso bocado jGollum! — Y cuando dijo Gollum hizo
con la garganta un ruido horrible como si engullera. Y asi fue como le dieron ese
nombre, aunque el siempre se llamaba a si mismo "preciosso mio".

El hobbit dio un brinco cuando oyo el siseo, y de repente vio los ojos palidos
clavados en el.

— ^Quien eres? — pregunto, adelantando la espada.

— «j,Que ess el, preciosso mio? — susurro Gollum (que siempre se hablaba a si
mismo, porque no tenia a ningun otro con quien hablar). Eso era lo que queria
descubrir, pues en verdad no tenia mucha hambre, solo curiosidad; de otro modo
hubiese estrangulado primero y susurrado despues.

— Soy el sehor Bilbo Bolson. He perdido a los enanos y al mago y no se donde
estoy, y tampoco quiero saberlo, si pudiera salir.

— «j,Que tiene el en las manoss? — dijo Gollum mirando la espada, que no le
gustaba mucho.

— jllna espada, una hoja nacida en Gondolin!

— Sss — dijo Gollum, y en un tono mas cortes: — Quiza se siente aqui y charle
conmigo un rato, preciosso mio. ^Le gustan los acertijos? Quiza si, <j,no? — Estaba
ansioso por parecer amable, al menos por un rato, y hasta que supiese algo mas
sobre la espada y el hobbit: si realmente estaba solo, si era bueno para comer, y si
Gollum mismo tenia mucha hambre.

Acertijos era todo en lo que podia pensar. Proponerlos y alguna vez encontrar la
solution habia sido el unico entretenimiento que habia compartido con otras
alegres criaturas, sentadas en sus agujeros, hacia muchos, muchos ahos, antes
de quedarse sin amigos y de que lo echasen, solo, y se arrastrara descendiendo y
descendiendo, a la oscuridad bajo las montahas.

— Muy bien — dijo Bilbo, muy dispuesto a mostrarse de acuerdo hasta descubrir
algo mas acerca de la criatura: si habia venido sola, si estaba furiosa o
hambrienta, y si era amiga de los trasgos.

— Tu preguntas primero — dijo, pues no habia tenido tiempo de pensar en un
acertijo. Asi que Gollum siseo:



Las raices no se ven,

y es mas alta que un arbol,

47



Arriba y arriba sube,
y sin embargo no crece.

— jFacil! — dijo Bilbo — . Una montana, supongo.

— ^Lo adivino facilmente? jTendria que competir con nosotros, preciosso mio! Si
preciosso pregunta y el no responde, nos lo comemos, preciosso mio. Si el
pregunta y no contestamos, haremos lo que el quiera, ^eh? jl_e ensenamos el
camino de la salida, si!

— De acuerdo — dijo Bilbo, no atreviendose a discrepar y con el cerebro casi
estallandole mientras pensaba en un acertijo que pudiese cerebro casi
estallandole mientras pensaba en un acertijo que pudiese salvarlo de la olla.

Treinta caballos blancos
en una sierra colorada.
Primero mordisquean,
y luego machacan,
y luego descansan.



Eso era todo lo que se le ocurria preguntar; la idea de comer le daba vueltas en la
cabeza. Era ademas un acertijo bastante viejo, y Gollum conocia la respuesta tan
bien como vosotros.

— Chiste viejo, chiste viejo — susurro — . jLos dientes, los dientes, preciosso mio!
jPero solo tenemos seis! — En seguida propuso una segunda adivinanza.



Canta sin voz,
vuela sin alas,
sin dientes muerde,
sin boca habla.



— jUn momento! — grito Bilbo, incomodo, pensando aun en cosas que se comfan.
Por fortuna una vez habia oido algo semejante, y recobrando el ingenio, penso en
la respuesta — . El viento, el viento, naturalmente — dijo, y quedo tan complacido
que invento en el acto otro acertijo. "Esto confundira a esta asquerosa criaturita
subterranea", penso,



Un ojo en la cara azul



48



vio un ojo en la cara verde.
"Ese ojo es como este. ojo",
dijo el ojo primero,
"pero en lugares bajos,
y no en lugares altos".



— Ss, ss, ss — dijo Gollum. Habia estado bajo tierra mucho tiempo, y estaba
olvidando esa clase de cosas. Pero cuando Bilbo ya esperaba que el desdichado
no podria responder, Gollum saco a relucir recuerdos de tiempos y tiempos y
tiempos atras, cuando vivia con su abuela en un agujero a orillas de un no — . Ss,
ss, ss, preciosso mio — dijo — . Quiere decir el sol sobre las margaritas, eso quiere
decir.

Pero estos acertijos sobre las cosas cotidianas al aire libre lo fatigaban. Le
recordaban tambien los dias en que aun no era una criatura tan solitaria y furtiva y
repugnante, y lo sacaban de quicio. Mas aun, le daban hambre, asi que esta vez
penso en algo un poco mas desagradable y dificil.



No puedes verla ni sentirla,
y ocupa todos los huecos:
no puedes olerla ni oirla,
esta detras de los astros,
y esta al pie de las colinas,
Mega primero, y se queda;
mala risas y acaba vidas.



Para desgracia de Gollum, Bilbo habia oido algo parecido antes, y de cualquier
modo la respuesta fue rotunda. — jl_a oscuridadj — dijo, sin ni siquiera rascarse la
cabeza o ponerse la gorra de pensar.



Caja sin Have,
tapa o bisagras,
pero dentro un tesoro
dorado guarda.



Bilbo pregunto para ganar tiempo, hasta que pudiese pensar algo mas dificil.
Creyo que era un acertijo asombrosamente viejo y facil, aunque no con estas



49



mismas palabras, pero resulto ser un horrible problema para Gollum. Siseaba
entre dientes, sin encontrar la respuesta, murmurando y farfullando.

Al cabo de un rato Bilbo empezo a impacientarse.

— Bueno, <j,que es? — pregunto. La respuesta no es una marmita hirviendo, como
pareces creer, por el ruido que haces.

— Una oportunidad, que nos de una oportunidad, preciosso mio... ss... ss...

— jBien! — dijo Bilbo tras esperar largo rato — iQue hay de tu respuesta?

Pero de subito Gollum se vio robando en tos nidos, hacia mucho tiempo, y
sentado en el barranco del no ensehando a su abuela, ensehando a su abuela a
sorber... — jHuevoss! — siseo — jHuevoss, eso es! — y en seguida pregunto:

Todos viven sin aliento;
y frios como los muertos,
nunca con sed, siempre bebiendo,
todos en malla, siempre en silencio.

El propio Gollum se dijo que la adivinanza era asombrosamente facil, pues el
pensaba dia y noche en la respuesta. Pero por el momento no se le ocurrio nada
mejor, tan aturdido estaba aun por la cuestion del huevo. De cualquier modo fue
todo un problema para Bilbo, quien nunca habia tenido nada que ver con el agua
si podia evitarlo. Imagino que ya sabeis la respuesta, no lo dudo, o que podeis
adivinarla en un abrir y cerrar de ojos, ya que estais comodamente sentados en
casa, y el peligro de ser comidos no turba vuestros pensamientos. Bilbo se sento y
carraspeo una o dos veces, pero la respuesta no llego.

Al cabo Gollum se puso a sisear entre dientes, complacido. — «j,Es agradable,
preciosso mio? <j,Es jugoso? ^Cruje de rechupete? — Espio a Bilbo en la
oscuridad.

— Un momento — dijo Bilbo temblando de miedo — Yo te he dado una buena
oportunidad hace poco.

— jTiene que darse prisa, darse prisa! — dijo Gollum, comenzando a pasar del bote
a la orilla para acercarse a Bilbo. Pero cuando puso en el agua las patas grandes
y membranosas, un pez salto espantado y cayo sobre los pies de Bilbo.

— i Uf ! — dijo — jque frio y pegajoso! — y asi acerto — . jUn pez, un pez! — grito — .
jEs un pez!

Gollum quedo horriblemente desilusionado; pero Bilbo pregunto otro acertijo tan
rapido como pudo, y Gollum tuvo que volver al bote y pensar.

Sin-piernas se apoya en una pierna;



50



Dos-piernas se sienta cerca de tres piernas,
y cuatro-piernas consiguio algo.



No era realmente el momento apropiado para este acertijo pero Bilbo estaba en un
apuro. A Gollum le habria costado bastante acertar si Bilbo lo hubiera preguntado
en otra ocasion. Tal como ocurrio, hablando de peces, "sin piernas" no parecia
muy dificil, y el resto fue obvio. "Un pez sobre una mesa pequena, un hombre a la
mesa, y el gato que consigue las espinas." Esa era la respuesta por supuesto, y
Gollum la encontro pronto. Entonces penso que ya era momento de preguntar algo
horrible y dificil. Esto fue lo que dijo:



Devora todas las cosas:
aves, bestias, plantas y. flores;
roe el hierro, muerde el acero,
y pulveriza la peha compacta;
mata reyes, arruina ciudades
y derriba las altas montahas.

El pobre Bilbo sentado en la oscuridad penso en todos los horribles nombres de
gigantes y ogros que alguna vez habia oido en los cuentos, pero ninguno hacia
todas esas cosas. Tenia el presentimiento de que la respuesta era muy diferente y
que la sabia de algun modo, pero no era capaz de ponerse a pensar. Empezo a
sentir miedo, y esto es malo para pensar. Gollum salio entonces del bote. Salto al
agua y avanzo hacia la orilla. Bilbo alcanzaba a ver los ojos que se acercaban. La
lengua parecia habersele pegado al paladar; queria gritar:

jDame tiempo! Pero todo lo que salio en un subito chillido fue:

— jTiempo! jTiempo!

Bilbo se salvo por pura suerte. Pues naturalmente esta era la respuesta.

Gollum quedo otra vez desilusionado; ahora estaba enojandose y cansandose del
juego. Le habia dado mucha hambre en verdad, y no volvio al bote. Se sento en la
oscuridad junto a Bilbo. Esto incomodo todavia mas al hobbit y le nublo el ingenio.

— Ahora el tiene que hacernos una pregunta, preciosso mio, si, ssi, ssi. Una
pregunta mass para acertar, si, ssi — dijo Gollum.

Pero Bilbo no podia pensar en ningun acertijo con aquella cosa asquerosamente
fria y humeda al lado, sobandolo y empujandolo. Se rascaba, se pellizcaba; y
seguia sin poder pensar.



51



— jPreguntenos! jPreguntenos! — decia Gollum. Bilbo se pellizcaba y se
palmoteaba; aferro la espada con una mano y tanteo el bolsillo con la otra. Alii
encontro el anillo que habia recogido en el tunel, y que habia olvidado.

— <j,Que tengo en el bolsillo? — dijo, en voz alta. Hablaba consigo mismo, pero
Gollum creyo que era un acertijo y se sintio terriblemente desconcertado.

— jNo vale! jNo vale! — siseo — . ^No es cierto que no vale, preciosso mio,
preguntarnos que tiene en los asquerosos bolsillitos?

Bilbo, viendo lo que habia pasado y no teniendo nada mejor que decir, repitio la
pregunta en voz mas alta; — iQue hay en mis bolsillos?

— Sss — siseo Gollum — Tiene que darnos tres Oportunidades, preciosso mio,
tress oportunidadess.

— jDe acuerdo! jAdivina! — dijo Bilbo.

— jLas manoss! — dijo Gollum.

— Falso — dijo Bilbo, quien por fortuna habia retirado la mano otra vez — . jPrueba
de nuevo!

— Sss — dijo Gollum mas desconcertado que nunca. Penso en todas las cosas que
el llevaba en los bolsillos; espinas de pescado, dientes de trasgos, conchas
mojadas, un trozo de ala de murcielago, una piedra aguzada para afilarse los
colmillos, y otras cosas repugnantes, Intento pensar en lo que otra gente podia
llevar en los bolsillos.

— jUn cuchillo! — dijo al fin.

— jFalso! — dijo Bilbo, que habia perdido el suyo hacia tiempo — . jUltima
oportunidad!

Ahora Gollum se sentia mucho peor que cuando Bilbo le habia planteado el
acertijo del huevo. Siseo, farfullo y se balanceo adelante y atras, golpeteando el
suelo con los pies, y se meneo y retorcio; sin embargo no se decidia, no queria
echar a perder esa ultima oportunidad.

— jVamos! — dijo Bilbo — . jEstoy esperando! — Trato de parecer valiente y jovial,
pero no estaba muy seguro de como terminaria el juego, ya Gollum acertase o no.

— jSe acabo el tiempo! — dijo.

— jUna cuerda o nada! — chillo Gollum, quien no respetaba del todo las reglas,
respondiendo dos cosas a la vez,

— jLas dos mal! — grito Bilbo, mucho mas aliviado; e incorporandose de un salto,
se apoyo de espaldas en la pared mas proxima y desenvaino la pequeha espada.
Naturalmente, sabia que el torneo de las adivinanzas era sagrado y de una
antiguedad inmensa, y que aun las criaturas malvadas temian hacer trampas
mientras jugaban. Pero sentia tambien que no podia confiar en que aquella
criatura viscosa mantuviera una promesa.

Cualquier excusa le pareceria apropiada para eludirla. Y al fin y al cabo la ultima
pregunta no habia sido un acertijo genuino de acuerdo con las leyes ancestrales.



52



Pero sin embargo Gollum no lo ataco en seguida. Miraba la espada que Bilbo
tenia en la mano. Se quedo sentado, susurrando y estremeciendose. Al fin, Bilbo
no pudo esperar mas.

— Y bien — dijo — , <j,que hay de tu promesa? Me quiero ir; tienes que ensenarme el
camino.

— ^Dijimos eso, preciosso? Mostrarle la salida al pequeno y asqueroso Bolson, si,
si. Pero, <j,que tiene el en los bolsilloss? jNi cuerda, preciosso, ni nada! jOh, no!
jGollum!

— No te importa — dijo Bilbo — , una promesa es una promesa.

— Vaya, jque prisa! jlmpaciente, preciosso! — siseo Gollum — , pero tiene que
esperar, si. No podemos subir por los pasadizos tan de prisa; primero tenemos
que recoger algunas cosas antes, si, cosas que nos ayuden.

— jBien, apresurate! — dijo Bilbo, aliviado al pensar que Gollum se marchaba.
Creia que solo se estaba excusando, y que no pensaba volver. ^De que hablaba
Gollum? «j,Que cosa util podia guardar en el lago oscuro? Pero se equivocaba.
Gollum pensaba volver. Estaba enfadado ahora y hambriento. Y era una miserable
y malvada criatura y ya tenia un plan.

No muy lejos estaba su isla, de la que Bilbo nada sabia; y alii, en un escondrijo,
guardaba algunas sobras miserables y una cosa muy hermosa, muy maravillosa.
Tenia un anillo, un anillo de oro, un anillo precioso.

— i Mi regalo de cumpleahos! — murmuraba, como habia hecho a menudo en los
oscuros dias interminables — . Eso es lo que ahora queremoss, si, jlo queremoss!

Lo queria porque era un anillo de poder, y si os lo poniais en el dedo, erais
invisibles. Solo a la plena luz del sol podrian veros, y solo por la sombra,
temblorosa y tenue.

— i Mi regalo de cumpleahos! jLlego a mi el dia de mi cumpleahos, preciosso mio!
— Asi monologaba Gollum. Pero nadie sabe como Gollum habia conseguido aquel
regalo, hacia siglos, en los viejos dias, cuando tales anillos abundaban en el
mundo. Quiza ni el propio Amo que los gobernaba a todos podia decirlo. Al
principio Gollum solia llevarlo puesto hasta que le canso, y desde entonces lo
guardo en una bolsa pegada al cuerpo, hasta que le lastimo la piel, y desde
entonces lo tuvo escondido en una roca de la isla, y siempre volvia a mirarlo. Y
aun a veces se lo ponia, cuando no aguantaba estar lejos de el ni un momento
mas, o cuando estaba muy, muy hambriento, y harto de pescado. Entonces se
arrastraba por pasadizos oscuros, en busca de trasgos extraviados. Se
aventuraba incluso en sitios donde habia antorchas encendidas que lo hacian
parpadear y le irritaban los ojos. Estaba seguro, oh, si, muy seguro. Nadie lo veia,
nadie notaba que estaba alii hasta que les apretaba la garganta con las manos. Lo
habia llevado puesto, hacia solo unas pocas horas y habia capturado un pequeno
trasgo. jComo habia chillado! Aun le quedaban uno o dos huesos por roer, pero
deseaba algo mas tierno.



53



— Muy seguro, si — se decia — . No nos vera, ^verdad, preciosso mio? No, y la
asquerosa espadita sera inutil, jsi, bastante inutil!

Eso es lo que escondia en su pequena mollera malvada mientras se apartaba
bruscamente de Bilbo y chapoteaba hacia el bote, perdiendose en la oscuridad.
Bilbo creyo que nunca lo volveria a oir; aun asi, espero un rato, pues no tenia idea
de como encontrar solo el camino de salida.

De pronto, oyo un chillido. Un escalofrio le bajo por la espalda. Gollum maldecia y
se lamentaba en las tinieblas, no muy lejos. Estaba en su isla, revolviendo aqui y
alia, buscando y rebuscando en vano.

— ^Donde esta? ^Donde esta? — sollozaba — . Sse ha perdido, precioso mio,
iperdido, perdido! jMaldiganos y aplastenos, mi precioso, se ha perdido!

— <j,Que pasa? — pregunto Bilbo — . <j,Que has perdida?

— No tiene que preguntarnos, no es asunto ssuyo, jno, Gollum! — chillo Gollum — ,
perdido, perdido, Gollum, Gollum, Gollum.

— Bueno, yo tambien me he perdido y quiero saber donde estoy. Gane la pugna y
tu hiciste una promesa. Asi que jadelante! jVen y conduceme fuera, y luego, sigue
buscando! — Aunque Gollum parecia inconsolable, Bilbo no lo compadecia
demasiado, tenia la impresion de que una cosa que Gollum queria tanto no podia
ser nada bueno. — jVamos! — grito.

— jNo, aun no, precioso! — respondio Gollum — . Tenemos que buscarlo pues se
ha perdido, jGollum!

— Pero no acertaste mi ultima pregunta e hiciste una promesa, — dijo Bilbo.

— i Nunca lo — imagine! — dijo Gollum. De repente un agudo siseo broto de la
oscuridad — . «j,Que tiene en los bolsilloss? Que nos lo diga. Primero tiene que
decirlo.

Hasta donde Bilbo sabia, no habia ninguna razon particular para no decirselo. Mas
rapida que la suya, la mente de Gollum habia cazado en el aire un presentimiento;
pues durante siglos habia estado preocupada por esa sola cosa, temiendo
siempre que se la quitaran. Pero la demora impacientaba a Bilbo. Al fin y al cabo,
habia ganado el juego, con bastante limpieza, y corriendo un riesgo terrible. — Las
preguntas eran para acertar, no para decirlas — dijo.

— Pero no fue juego limpio — dijo Gollum — , No era un acertijo, precioso, no.

— jOh, bien!, si se trata de preguntas corrientes yo he hecho una antes —
respondio Bilbo — . «j,Que has perdido, quieres decirme?

— «j,Que tiene en los bolsilloss? — El sonido llego siseando mas agudo y fuerte, y
como Gollum estaba mirandolo, Bilbo vio alarmado dos pequehos puntos de luz
que lo observaban. A medida que la sospecha crecia en la mente de Gollum, la luz
le ardia en los ojos con una llama descolorida.

— «j,Que has perdido? — insistio Bilbo.



54

_________________
The Flesh of Fallen Angels! Come to me all! Asteroth,

Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Bapholada, Lucifer, Loki, Satan,

Cthulhu, Lilith, Della! Blood, to you all!

I'm the wolf, yeah!
I am the wolf! It's close, it's coming. You have come.
The witness to the end, of time. It's now! I will rise to
her side! I don't need the words!
I'm beyond the words!
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Post Re: POST, POST LIKE YOU NEVER POSTED BEFORE!
Pero la luz en los ojos de Gollum era ahora un fuego verde y se acercaba con
rapidez. Gollum estaba de nuevo en el bote, remando como desesperado de
vuelta a la orilla; y tal era la rabia por la perdida y la sospecha que tenia en el
corazon, que ya no le atemorizaba ninguna espada.

Bilbo no podia adivinar que habia maquinado la malvada criatura, pero vio que
todo estaba descubierto, y que Gollum pretendia terminar con el, sea como fuere.
Justo a tiempo se volvio y corrio a ciegas, subiendo el pasadizo que habia bajado
antes, manteniendose pegado a la pared y tocandola con la mano izquierda.

— «j,Que tiene en los bolsilloss? — Bilbo oyo el siseo fuerte detras de el, y el
chapoteo cuando Gollum salto del bote. "Que tengo yo, me pregunto" se dijo,
mientras avanzaba jadeando y tropezando. Se metio la mano izquierda en el
bolsillo. El anillo estaba muy frio cuando se le deslizo de pronto en el dedo indice,
con el que tanteaba buscando.

El siseo estaba detras, muy cerca. Bilbo se volvio y vio los ojos de Gollum como
pequenas lamparas verdes que subian la pendiente. Aterrorizado, intento correr
mas rapido y cayo cuan largo era, con la pequena espada debajo del cuerpo.

En un momento Gollum estuvo sobre el. Pero antes que Bilbo pudiese hacer algo,
recuperar el aliento, levantarse o esgrimir la espada, Gollum paso de largo sin
prestarle atencion, maldiciendo y murmurando mientras coma.

iQue podia significar esto? Gollum veia en la oscuridad. Bilbo alcanzaba a
distinguir la luz palida de los ojos, aun desde atras. Se levanto, dolorido, envaino
la espada, que ahora brillaba debilmente otra vez, y con mucha cautela siguio
andando. Parecia que no se podia hacer otra cosa. No convenia volver
arrastrandose a las aguas de Gollum. Quiza si lo seguia, Gollum lo conduciria sin
querer hasta alguna via de escape.

— jMaldito sea! jMaldito sea! jMaldito sea! — siseaba Gollum — . jMaldito Bolson!
jSe ha ido! «j,Que tiene en los bolsillos? jOh, lo suponemos, lo adivinamos!
Precioso mio. Lo ha encontrado, si, tiene que tenerlo. Mi regalo de cumpleahos.

Bilbo aguzo el oido. Por fin estaba empezando a adivinar. Apresuro el paso,
acercandose a Gollum por detras hasta donde se atrevio. Gollum coma aun de
prisa, sin mirar atras, pero volviendo la cabeza a los lados, como Bilbo podia ver
por el palido reflejo de luz en las paredes.

— i Mi regalo de cumpleahos! jMaldito! ^Como lo perdimos, precioso mio? Si, eso
es. jMaldito! Cuando vinimos por aqui la ultima vez, cuando estrujamos a aquel
asqueroso jovencito chillon. Eso es. jMaldito sea! Se nos cayo, jdespues de tantos
siglos y siglos! No esta, jGollum!

De pronto Gollum se sento y se puso a sollozar, con un ruido silbante y
gorgoteante, horrible al oido. Bilbo se detuvo, pegandose a la pared de la galena.
Pasado un rato, Gollum dejo de lloriquear y comenzo a hablar. Parecia tener una
discusion consigo mismo.



55



— No vale la pena volver a buscarlo, no. No recordamos todos los lugares que
hemos visitado. Y no serviria de nada. El Bolson lo tiene en sus bolsilloss; el
asqueroso fisgon lo ha encontrado, lo decimos nosotros.

"Lo suponemos, precioso, solo lo suponemos. No podemos estar seguros hasta
encontrar a la asquerossa criatura y estrujarla. Pero no conoce las virtudes que
tiene, ^verdad? Solo lo guarda en los bolsillos. No lo sabe y no puede ir muy lejos.
Se ha perdido el puerco fissgon. No conoce la salida. Eso fue lo que dijo.

"Asi dijo, si, pero es un tramposo. jNo dice lo que piensa! No dira lo que tiene en
los bolsillos. Lo sabe.

Conoce el camino de entrada; tiene que conocer el de salida, si. Esta mas alia de
la puerta trasera. Hacia la puerta trasera, eso es.

"Los trasgos lo capturaran entonces. No puede salir por ahi, precioso.

"Sss, sss, jGollumljTrasgoss! Si, pero si tiene el regalo, nuestro regalo de
cumpleahos, entonces los trasgos lo tomaran, jGollum! Descubriran, descubriran
sus propiedades. jNunca mas estaremos seguros, Gollum! Uno de los trassgos se
lo pondra y no lo vera nadie. Estara alii, pero nadie podra verlo. Ni siquiera
nuestros mas agudos ojoss, y se acercara escurriendose y engahando y nos
capturara, jGollum! jGollum!

"jDejemos la charla, precioso, y vayamos de prisa! Si el Bolson se ha ido por ahi,
tenemos que apresurarnos y verlo. jVamos! No puede estar muy lejos. jDe prisa!

Gollum se levanto de un brinco y se alejo bamboleandose, a grandes zancadas.
Bilbo corrio tras el, todavia cauteloso, aunque ahora lo que mas temia era tropezar
de nuevo y caer haciendo ruido. Tenia en la cabeza un torbellino de asombro y
esperanza. Parecia que el anillo que llevaba era un anillo magico: jte hacia
invisible! Habia oido de tales cosas, por supuesto, en antiguos relatos; pero le
costaba creer que en realidad el, por accidente, habia encontrado uno. Sin
embargo, asi era: Gollum habia pasado de largo solo a una yarda.

Siguieron adelante, Gollum avanzando a los trompicones, siseando y maldiciendo;
Bilbo detras, tan silenciosamente

como puede marchar un hobbit. Pronto llegaron

a unos lugares donde, como habia notado Bilbo al bajar, se abrian pasadizos a los
lados, uno aca, Otro alia. Gollum comenzo en seguida a contarlos.

— Uno a la izquierda, si. Uno a la derecha, si. Dos a la derecha, si, si; dos a la
izquierda, eso es. — Y asi una vez y otra.

A medida que la cuenta, crecia, aflojo el paso sollozando y temblando. Pues cada
vez se alejaba mas del agua, y tenia miedo. Los trasgos acechaban quiza, y el
habia perdido el anillo. Por fin se detuvo ante una abertura baja, a la izquierda.

— Siete a la derecha, si. Seis a la izquierda, jbien! — susurro — . Este es. Este es el
camino de la puerta trasera. jAqui esta el pasadizo!



56



Miro hacia adentro y se retiro, vacilando. — Pero no nos atreveremos a entrar,
precioso, no nos atreveremos. Hay trasgos alia abajo. Montones de trasgoss. Los
olemos. jSss!

"^Que podemos hacer? jMalditos y aplastados sean! Tenemos que esperar aqui,
precioso, esperar un momento y observar.

Y asi se detuvieron. Al fin y al cabo, Gollum habia traido a Bilbo hasta la salida,
ipero Bilbo no podia cruzarla! Alii estaba Gollum, acurrucado justamente en la
abertura, y los ojos le brillaban frios mientras movia la cabeza a un lado y a otro
entre las rodillas.

Bilbo se arrastro, apartandose de la pared, mas callado que un raton; pero Gollum
se enderezo en seguida y venteo en torno y los ojos se le pusieron verdes. Siseo,
en un tono bajo aunque amenazador. No podia ver al hobbit, pero ahora estaba
atento, y tenia otros sentidos que la oscuridad habia aguzado: olfato y ofdo.
Parecia que se habia agachado, con las palmas de las manos extendidas sobre el
suelo, la cabeza estirada hacia adelante y la nariz casi tocando la piedra. Aunque
era solo una sombra negra en el brillo de sus propios ojos, Bilbo alcanzaba a verlo
o sentirlo: tenso corno la cuerda de un arco, dispuesto a saltar.

Bilbo casi dejo de respirar y tambien se quedo quieto. Estaba desesperado. Tenia
que escapar, salir de aquella horrible oscuridad mientras le quedara alguna fuerza.
Tenia que luchar. Tenia que apuhalar a la asquerosa criatura, sacarle los ojos,
matarla. Queria matarlo a el. No, no seria una lucha limpia. El era invisible ahora.
Gollum no tenia espada. No habia amenazado matarlo, o no lo habia intentado
aun. Y era un ser miserable, solitario, perdido. Una subita comprension, una
piedad mezclada con horror asomo en el corazon de Bilbo: un destello de
interminables dias iguales, sin luz ni esperanza de algo mejor, dura piedra, frio
pescado, pasos furtivos, y susurros. Todos estos pensamientos se le cruzaron
como un relampago. Se estremecio. Y entonces, de pronto, en otro relampago,
como animado por una energia y una resolucion nuevas, salto hacia adelante.

No un gran salto para un hombre, pero un salto a ciegas. Salto directamente sobre
la cabeza de Gollum, a una distancia de siete pies y tres de altura; por cierto, y no
lo sabia, apenas evito que se le destrozara el craneo contra el arco del tunel.

Gollum se lanzo hacia, atras e intento atrapar al hobbit cuando volaba sobre el,
pero demasiado tarde: las manos golpearon el aire tenue, y Bilbo, cayendo
limpiamente sobre los pies vigorosos, se precipito a bajar por el nuevo pasadizo,
No se volvio a mirar que hacia Gollum. Al principio oyo siseos y maldiciones detras
de el, muy cerca; luego cesaron. Casi en seguida sono un aullido que helaba la
sangre, un grito de odio y desesperacion. Gollum estaba derrotado. No se atrevia
a ir mas lejos, habia perdido: habia perdido su presa, y habia perdido tambien la
unica cosa que habia cuidado alguna vez, su precioso. El aullido dejo a Bilbo con
el corazon en la boca. Ya debil como un eco, pero amenazadora, la voz venia
desde atras.

— j Ladron, ladron, ladron! jBolson! jLo odiamos, lo odiamos, lo odiamos para
siempre!



57



No se oyo nada mas. Pero el silencio tambien le parecia amenazador a Bilbo. "Si
los trasgos estan tan cerca que el puede olerlos" penso, "tienen que haber oido las
maldiciones y chillidos. Cuidado ahora, o esto te llevara a cosas peores."

El pasadizo era bajo y de paredes toscas. No parecia muy dificil para el hobbit,
excepto Cuando, a pesar de andar con mucho cuidado, tropezaba de nuevo, y asi
muchas veces, golpeandose los dedos de los pies contra las piedras del suelo,
molestas y afiladas. "Un poco bajo para los trasgos, al menos para los grandes",
pensaba Bilbo, no sabiendo que aun los mas grandes, los orcos de las montanas,
avanzan encorvados a gran velocidad, con las manos casi en el suelo.

Pronto el pasadizo, que habia estado bajando, comenzo a subir otra vez, y de
pronto ascendio abruptamente. Bilbo tuvo que aflojar la marcha, pero por fin la
cuesta acabo; luego de un recodo, el pasadizo descendio de nuevo, y alia, al pie
de una corta pendiente, vio que del costado de otro recodo venia un reflejo de luz.
No una luz roja, como de linterna o de fuego, sino una luz palida de aire libre. Bilbo
echo a correr.

Corriendo tanto como le aguantaban las piernas, doblo el ultimo recodo y se
encontro en medio de un espacio abierto, donde la luz, luego de todo aquel tiempo
a oscuras, parecia deslumbrante. En verdad, era solo la luz del sol que se filtraba
por el hueco de una puerta grande, una puerta de piedra, que habian dejado
entornada.

Bilbo parpadeo, y de pronto vio a les trasgos; trasgos armados de pies a cabeza,
con las espadas desenvainadas, sentados a la vera de la puerta y observandolo
con los ojos abiertos, observando el pasadizo por donde habia aparecido. Estaban
preparados, atentos, dispuestos a cualquier cosa.

Lo vieron antes que el pudiese verlos. Si, lo vieron, Fuese un accidente o el ultimo
truco del anillo antes de tomar nuevo amo, no lo tenia en el dedo. Con aullidos de
entusiasmo, los trasgos se abalanzaron sobre el.

Una punzada de miedo y perdida, como un eco de la miseria de Gollum, hirio a
Bilbo, y olvidando desenvainar la espada, metio las manos en los bolsillos. Y alii
en el bolsillo izquierdo estaba el anillo, y el mismo se le deslizo en el dedo indice.
Los trasgos se detuvieron bruscamente. No podian ver nada del hobbit. Habia
desaparecido.

Habia desaparecido. Chillaron dos veces, tan alto como antes, pero no con tanto
entusiasmo.

— ^Donde esta? — gritaron.

— jSe volvio pasadizo arriba! — dijeron algunos.

— jFue por aqui! — aullaron unos — , jFue por alia! — aullaron otros.

— jCuidad la puerta! — ordeno el capitan. Sonaron silbatos, las armaduras se
entrechocaron, las espadas golpetearon, los trasgos maldijeron y juraron,
corriendo aca y aculla, cayendo unos sobre otros y enojandose mucho. Hubo un
terrible clamoreo, una conmocion y un alboroto.



58



Bilbo estaba de veras aterrorizado, pero tenia aun bastante juicio para entender
que habia ocurrido, y para esconderse detras de un barril que guardaba la bebida
de los trasgos centinelas, y salir asi del apuro y evitar que lo golpearan y patearan
hasta darle muerte, a que lo capturasen por el tacto.

— jHe de alcanzar la puerta, he de alcanzar la puerta! — seguia diciendose, pero
paso largo rato antes de que se atreviera a intentarlo. Lo que siguio entonces fue
horrible, como si jugaran a una especie de gallina ciega. El lugar estaba
abarrotado de trasgos que corrian de un lado a otro, y el pobrecito hobbit se
escurrio aqui y alia, fue derribado por un trasgo que no pudo entender con que
habia tropezado, escapo a gatas, se deslizo entre las piernas del capitan, se puso
de pie, y corrio hacia la puerta.

La puerta estaba abierta, pero un trasgo la habia entornado todavia mas. Bilbo
empujo, y no consiguio moverla. Trato de escurrirse por la abertura y quedo
atrapado. jEra horrible! Los, botones se le habian encajado entre el canto y la
jamba de la puerta. Alii fuera alcanzaba a ver el aire libre: habia unos pocos
escalones que descendian a un valle estrecho con montanas altas alrededor: el
sol aparecio detras de una nube y resplandecio mas alia de la puerta; pero el no
podia cruzarla.

De pronto, uno de los trasgos que estaban dentro grito: — jHay una sombra al lado
de la puerta! jAlgo esta ahi fuera! —

A Bilbo el corazon se le subio a la boca. Se retorcio, aterrorizado. Los botones
saltaron en todas direcciones. Atraveso la puerta, con la chaqueta y el chaleco
rasgados, y brinco escalones abajo como una cabra, mientras los trasgos
desconcertados recogian aun los preciosos botones de laton, caidos en el umbral.

Por supuesto, en seguida bajaron tras el, persiguiendolo, gritando y ululando por
entre los arboles. Pero el sol no les gusta: les afloja las piernas, y la cabeza les da
vueltas. No consiguieron encontrar a Bilbo, que llevaba el anillo puesto, y se
escabullia entre las sombras de los arboles, corriendo rapido y en silencio y
manteniendose apartado del sol; pronto volvieron gruhendo y maldiciendo a
guardar la puerta. Bilbo habia escapade

DE LA SARTEN AL FUEGO

Bilbo habia escapado de los trasgos, pero no sabia donde estaba. Habia perdido
el capuchon, la capa, la comida, el poney, sus botones y sus amigos. Siguio
adelante, hasta que el sol empezo a hundirse en el poniente, detras de las
montanas. Las sombras cruzaban el sendero, y Bilbo miro hacia atras, luego miro
hacia adelante, y no pudo ver mas que crestas y vertientes que descendian hacia
las tierras bajas, y llanuras que asomaban de vez en cuando entre los arboles.

— jCielos! — exclamo — . jParece que estoy justo al otro lado de las Montanas
Nubladas, al borde de las Tierras de Mas Alia! ^Donde y adonde habran tenido
que ir los enanos y Gandalf? jSolo espero que por ventura no esten todavia alia
atras en poder de los trasgos!



59



Continuo caminando, fuera del pequeno y elevado valle, por el borde, y bajando
luego las pendientes; mas en todo este tiempo un pensamiento muy incomodo iba
creciendo dentro de el. Se preguntaba si no estaba obligado, ahora que tenia el
anillo magico, a regresar a los horribles, horribles tuneles y buscar a sus amigos,
Acababa de decidir que no podia escapar a ese deber, que tenia que volver atras
— y esto hacia que se sintiera muy desdichado — cuando oyo voces.

Se detuvo y escucho. No parecian trasgos; de modo que se arrastro con mucho
cuidado hacia adelante. Estaba en un sendero pedregoso que serpenteaba hacia
abajo, con una pared rocosa a la izquierda; al otro lado el terreno descendia en
pendiente, y bajo el nivel del sendero habia unas cahadas donde crecian
matorrales y arbustos. En una de estas cahadas, bajo los arbustos, habia gente
hablando

Se arrastro todavia mas cerca, y de subito vio, asomado entre dos grandes
pehascos, una cabeza con capuchon rojo: era Balin que oteaba alrededor. Bilbo
tenia ganas de palmotear y gritar de alegria, pero no lo hizo. Todavia llevaba
puesto el anillo, por miedo de encontrar algo inesperado y desagradable, y vio que
Balin estaba mirando directamente hacia el sin verlo.

"Les dare a todos una sorpresa", penso mientras se metia a gatas entre los
arbustos del borde de la cahada. Gandalf estaba deliberando con los enanos.
Hablaban de todo lo que habia ocurrido en los tuneles, preguntandose y
discutiendo que irian a hacer ahora. Los enanos refunfuhaban, y Gandalf decia
que de ninguna manera podian continuar el viaje dejando al sehor Bolson en
manos de los trasgos, sin tratar de saber si estaba vivo o muerto, y sin tratar de
rescatarlo.

— Al fin y al cabo es mi amigo — dijo Gandalf — , y una buena persona. Me siento
responsable. Ojala no lo hubieseis perdido.

Los enanos querian saber ante todo por que razones lo habian traido con ellos,
por que no habia podido mantenerse cerca y venir tambien, y por que el mago no
habia elegido a alguien mas sensato. — Hasta ahora ha sido una carga de poco
provecho — dijo uno — , Si tenemos que regresar a esos tuneles abominables a,
buscarlo, entonces maldito sea, digo yo.

Gandalf contesto enfadado: — Lo traje, y no traigo cosas que no sean de
provecho. O me ayudais a buscar lo, o me voy y os dejo aqui para que salgais de
este embrollo como mejor podais. Si al menos lo encontraramos, me lo
agradeceriais antes de que haya pasado todo. <j,Por que tuviste que dejarlo caer,
Dori?

— jTu mismo lo hubieses dejado caer — dijo Dori — , si de pronto un trasgo te
hubiese aferrado las piernas por detras en la oscuridad, te hiciese tropezar, y te
patease la espalda!

— En ese caso, ^por que no lo recogiste de nuevo?

— jCielos! jY aun me lo preguntas! jLos trasgos luchando y mordiendo en la
oscuridad, todos cayendo sobre otros cuerpos y golpeandose! Tu casi me
tronchas la cabeza con Glamdrin, y Thorin daba tajos a diestra y siniestra con



60



Orcrist. De pronto echaste una de esas luces que enceguecen y vimos que los
trasgos retrocedian aullando. Gritaste: 'jSeguidme todos!' y todos tenian que
haberte seguido. Creimos que todos lo hacfan. No hubo tiempo para contar, como
tu sabes muy bien, hasta que nos abrimos paso entre los centinelas, salimos por
la puerta mas baja, y descendimos hasta aqui atropellandonos. Y aqui estamos,
sin el saqueador, jque el cielo lo confunda!

— jY aqui esta el saqueador! — dijo Bilbo adelantandose y metiendose entre ellos,
y quitandose el anillo.

jSehor, como saltaron! Luego hubo gritos de sorpresa y alegrfa. Gandalf estaba
tan atonito como cualquiera de ellos, pero quiza mas complacido que los demas.
Llamo a Balm y le pregunto que pensaba de un centinela que permitia que la
gente llegara asi sin previo aviso. Por supuesto, la reputacion de Bilbo crecio
mucho entre los enanos a partir de ese momento. Si, a pesar de las palabras de
Gandalf, dudaban aun de que era un saqueador de primera clase, no lo dudaron
mas. Balm era el mas desconcertado; pero todos decian que habia sido un trabajo
muy bien hecho.

Bilbo estaba en verdad tan complacido con estos elogios, que se rio entre dientes,
pero nada dijo acerca del anillo; y cuando le preguntaron como se las habia
arreglado, comento: — Oh, simplemente me deslice, ya sabeis... con mucho
cuidado y en silencio.

— Bien, ni siquiera un raton se ha deslizado nunca con cuidado y en silencio bajo
mis mismisimas narices sin que yo lo descubriera — dijo Balm — , y me saco el
sombrero ante ti. — Cosa que hizo.

— Balin a vuestro servicio — dijo.

— Vuestro servidor, el sehor Bolson — dijo Bilbo.

Luego quisieron conocer las aventuras de Bilbo desde el momento en que lo
habian perdido, y el se sento y les conto todo, excepto lo que se referia al hallazgo
del anillo ("no por ahora" penso). Se interesaron en particular en la pugna de las
adivinanzas y se estremecieron como correspondia cuando les describio el
aspecto de Gollum.

— Y luego no se me ocurria ninguna otra pregunta con el sentado junto ami —
concluyo Bilbo — , de modo que dije: '^Que hay en mi bolsillo?' Y no pudo
adivinarlo por tres veces. De modo que dije: '^Que hay de tu promesa?
jEnsehame el camino de salida!' Pero el salto sobre mi para matarme, y yo corn,
cai, y me perdi en la oscuridad. Luego lo segui, pues of que se hablaba a si
mismo. Pensaba que yo conocia realmente el camino de salida, y estaba yendo
hacia el. Al fin se sento en la entrada y yo no podia pasar. De modo que salte
sobre el y escape corriendo hacia la puerta.

— «j,Que paso con los centinelas? — preguntaron los enanos — . ^No habia
ninguno?



61



— jOh, si! Muchisimos, pero los esquive. Me quede trabado en la puerta, que solo
estaba abierta una rendija, y perdi muchos botones — dijo mirandose con tristeza
las ropas desgarradas — . Pero consegui escabullirme... y aqui estoy.

Los enanos lo miraron con un respeto completamente nuevo, mientras hablaba
sobre burlar centinelas, saltar sobre Gollum y abrirse paso, como si no fuese muy
dificil o muy inquietante.

— ^Que os dije? — exclamo Gandalf riendo — , El senor Bolson esconde cosas que
no alcanzabais a imaginar. — Le echo una mirada rara a Bilbo por debajo de las
cejas pobladas mientras lo decia, y el hobbit se pregunto si el mago no estaria
pensando en el episodio que el habia omitido.

Tenia sus propias preguntas que hacer ahora, pues si Gandalf ya habia explicado
todo a los enanos, Bilbo no lo habia oido aun. Queria saber como Gandalf habia
vuelto a aparecer, y que habian convenido hasta ese momento.

El mago, a decir verdad, nunca se molestaba por tener que explicar de nuevo sus
habilidades, de modo que ahora le dijo a Bilbo que tanto Elrond como el estaban
bien enterados de la presencia de trasgos malvados en esa parte de las
montahas. Pero la entrada principal miraba antes a un desfiladero distinto, mas
facil de cruzar, y a menudo apresaban a gente ignorante cerca de las puertas. Era
evidente que los viajeros ya no tomaban ese camino, y los trasgos habian abierto
hacia poco una nueva entrada en lo alto de la senda que habian tornado los
enanos, pues hasta entonces habia sido un paso seguro.

— Tendria que salir a buscar un gigante mas o menos decente para que bloquee
otra vez la puerta — dijo el mago — , o pronto no habra modo de cruzar las
montanas.

Tan pronto como Gandalf habia oido el aullido de Bilbo, comprendio lo que habia
pasado. Luego del relampago que habia fulminado a los trasgos que se le
echaban encima, se habia metido corriendo en la grieta, justo cuando iba a
cerrarse. Siguio detras de los trasgos y prisioneros hasta el borde de la gran sala,
y alii se sento, preparando la mejor magia posible entre las sombras.

— Fue un asunto muy delicado — dijo — Francamente dificil.

Pero Gandalf, por supuesto, habia hecho un estudio especial de los
encantamientos con fuego y luces (hasta el mismo hobbit, como recordareis, no
habia olvidado aquellos magicos fuegos de artificio en las fiestas del Viejo Tuk, las
noches de San Juan). El resto ya lo sabemos, excepto que Gandalf conocia
perfectamente la puerta trasera, como los trasgos denominaban a la entrada
inferior, donde Bilbo habia perdido sus botones.

En realidad, cualquiera que conociese aquella parte de las montahas conocia
tambien la entrada inferior, pero habia que ser un mago para no perder la cabeza
en los tuneles y seguir la direccion correcta.

— Construyeron esa entrada hace siglos — dijo — , en parte como una via de
escape, si necesitaban una, en parte como un camino de salida hacia las tierras
de mas alia, donde todavia merodean en la noche y causan gran daho. La vigilan



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siempre, y nadie jamas ha conseguido bloquearla. La vigilaran doblemente a partir
de ahora. — Gandalf se rio.

Los demas rieron con el. Al fin y al cabo, habian perdido bastantes cosas, pero
habian matado al Gran Trasgo y a otros muchos, y habian escapado todos, y en
verdad podia decirse que hasta ahora habian llevado la mejor parte.

Pero el mago hizo que volvieran a la realidad.

— Tenemos que marchar en seguida, ahora que hemos descansado un poco —
dijo — . Saldran a centenares detras de nosotros cuando caiga la noche; y ya las
sombras se estan alargando. Pueden oler nuestras huellas horas despues de que
hayamos pasado por algun sitio. Tenemos que estar a muchas millas de aqui
antes del anochecer. Habra algo de luna, si el cielo se mantiene despejado. lo que
es una suerte. No es que a ellos les importe demasiado la luna, pero un poco de
luz ayudara a que no nos extraviemos.

"jOh, si! — dijo en respuesta a mas preguntas del hobbit — Perdiste la nocion del
tiempo en los tuneles de los trasgos. Hoy es jueves, y fuimos capturados la noche
del lunes o la mahana del martes. Hemos recorrido millas y millas, bajamos
atravesando el corazon mismo de las montahas, y ahora estamos al otro lado;
todo un atajo. Mas no estamos en el punto al que nos hubiese llevado el
desfiladero; estamos demasiado al norte, y tenemos por delante una region algo
desagradable. Y nos encontramos aun a bastante altura. jDe modo que en
marcha!



— Estoy tan terriblemente hambriento — gimio Bilbo, quien de pronto advirtio que
no habia probado bocado desde la noche anterior a la ultima noche. jQuien lo
hubiera pensado de un hobbit! Sentia el estomago flojo y vacio, y las piernas muy
inseguras, ahora que la excitacion habia concluido.

— No puedo remediarlo — dijo Gandalf — , a menos que quieras volver y pedir
amablemente a los trasgos que te devuelvan el poney y los bultos.

— jNo, gracias! — respondio Bilbo.

— Muy bien entonces, no nos queda mas que apretarnos los cinturones y marchar
sin descanso... o nos convertiremos en cena, y eso seria mucho peor que no
tenerla nosotros.

Mientras marchaban, Bilbo buscaba por rodos lados aleo para comer; pero las
moras estaban todavia en flor, y por supuesto no habia nueces, ni tan siquiera
bayas de espino, Mordisqueo un poco de acedera, bebio de un pequeho arroyo de
la montaha que cruzaba el sendero, y comio tres fresas silvestres que encontro en
la orilla, pero no le sirvio de mucho.

Caminaron y caminaron. El accidentado sendero desaparecio. Los arbustos y las
largas hierbas entre los cantos rodados, las briznas de hierba recortadas por los
conejos, el tomillo, la salvia, el oregano y los heliantemos amarillos se
desvanecieron por completo, y los viajeros se encontraron en la cima de una
pendiente ancha y abrupta, de piedras desprendidas, restos de un deslizamiento



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de tierras. Empezaron a bajar, y cada vez que apoyaban un pie en el suelo,
escorias y pequenos guijarros rodaban cuesta abajo; pronto trozos mas grandes
de roca bajaron ruidosamente y provocaron que otras piedras de mas abajo se
deslizaran y rodaran tambien; luego se desprendieron unos penascos que
rebotaron, reventando con fragor en pedazos envueltos en polvo. Al rato, por
encima y por debajo de ellos, la pendiente entera parecio ponerse en movimiento,
y el grupo descendio en monton, en medio de una confusion pavorosa de bloques
y piedras que se deslizaban golpeando y rompiendose.

Fueron los arboles del fondo los que los salvaron. Se deslizaron hacia el bosque
de pinos que trepaba desde el mas oscuro e impenetrable de los bosques del valle
hasta la falda misma de la montana. Algunos se aferraron a los troncos y se
balancearon en las ramas mas bajas, otros (como el pequeno hobbit) se
escondieron detras de un arbol para evitar las embestidas furiosas de las rocas.
Pronto, el peligro paso; el deslizamiento se habia detenido, y alcanzaron a oir los
ultimos estruendos mientras los penascos mas voluminosos rebotaban y daban
vueltas entre los helechos y las raices de pino alia abajo.

— jBueno! Nos ha costado un poco — dijo Gandalf — , y aun a los trasgos que nos
rastreen les costara bastante descender hasta aqui en silencio.

— Quizas — gruho Bombur — , pero no les sera dificil tirarnos piedras a la cabeza.
— Los enanos (y Bilbo) estaban lejos de sentirse contentos, y se restregaban las
piernas y los pies lastimados y magullados.

— jTonterfas! Aqui dejaremos el sendero de la pendiente. jTenemos que
apresurarnos! jMirad la luz!

Hacia largo rato que el sol se habia ocultado tras la montana. Ya las sombras eran
mas negras alrededor, aunque alia lejos, entre los arboles y sobre las copas
negras de los que crecian mas abajo, podian ver todavia las luces de la tarde en
las llanuras distantes. Bajaban cojeando ahora, tan rapido como podian, por la
pendiente menos abrupta de un pinar, por un inclinado sendero que los conducia
directamente hacia el sur. En ocasiones se abrian paso entre un mar de helechos
de altas frondas que se levantaban por encima de la cabeza del hobbit; otras
veces marchaban con la quietud del silencio, sobre un suelo de agujas de pino; y
durante todo ese tiempo la lobreguez se iba haciendo mas pesada y la calma del
bosque mas profunda. No habia viento aquel atardecer que moviera al menos con
un susurro de mar las ramas de los arboles.

— jTenemos que seguir todavia mas? — pregunto Bilbo cuando en la oscuridad
del bosque apenas alcanzaba a distinguir la barba de Thorin que ondeaba junto a
el y la respiration de los enanos sonaba en el silencio como un fuerte ruido — .
Tengo los dedos de los pies torcidos y magullados, me duelen las piernas, y mi
estomago se balancea como una bolsa vacia.

— Un poco mas — dijo Gandalf.

Luego de lo que parecio siglos mas, salieron de pronto a un espacio abierto sin
arboles. La luna estaba alta y brillaba en el claro. De algun modo todos tuvieron la



64



impresion de que no era precisamente un lugar agradable, aunque no se veia
nada sospechoso.

De subito oyeron un aullido, lejos, colina abajo, un aullido largo y estremecedor. Le
contesto otro, lejos, a la derecha, y muchos mas, mas cerca de ellos; luego otro,
no muy lejano, a la izquierda. jEran lobos aullando a la luna, lobos que llamaban a
la manada!

No habia lobos que vivieran cerca del agujero del senor Bolson, pero conocia el
sonido. Se lo habian descrito a menudo en cuentos y relatos. Uno de sus primos
mayores (por la rama Tuk), que habia sido un gran viajero, los imitaba a menudo
para aterrorizarlo. Oirlos ahora en el bosque bajo la luna era demasiado para
Bilbo. Ni siquiera los anillos magicos son muy utiles contra los lobos, en especial
contra las manadas diabolicas que vivian a la sombra de las montanas infestadas
de trasgos, mas alia de los limites de las tierras salvajes, en las fronteras de lo
desconocido. jLos lobos de esta clase tienen un olfato mas fino que los trasgos! jY
no necesitan verte para atraparte!

— jQue haremos, que haremos! — grito — . jSalir de trasgos para caer en lobos! —
dijo, y esto llego a ser un proverbio, aunque ahora decimos "de la sarten al fuego"
en las situaciones incomodas de este tipo.

~jA los arboles, rapido! — grito Gandalf; y corrieron hacia los arboles del borde del
claro, buscando aquellos de ramas bajas o bastante delgados para escapar
trepando por los troncos. Los encontraron con una rapidez insolita, como podeis
imaginar; y subieron muy alto confiando como nunca en la firmeza de las ramas.
Habriais reido (desde una distancia segura) si hubieseis visto a los enanos
sentados arriba, en los arboles, las barbas colgando, como viejos caballeros
chiflados que jugaban a ser nihos. Fili y Kili habian subido a la copa de un alerce
alto que parecia un enorme arbol de Navidad. Dori, Nori, Ori, 6in y Gloin estaban
mas comodos en un pino elevado con ramas regulares que crecian a intervalos,
como los radios de una rueda. Bifur, Bofur, Bombur y Thorin estaban en otro pino
proximo. Dwalin y Balin habian trepado con rapidez a un abeto delgado, escaso de
ramas, y estaban intentando encontrar un lugar para sentarse entre el follaje de la
copa. Gandalf, que era bastante mas alto que el resto, habia encontrado un arbol
inaccesible para los otros, un pino grande que se levantaba en el mismisimo borde
del claro. Estaba bastante oculto entre las ramas pero, cuando asomaba la luna,
se le podia ver el brillo de los ojos.

<j,Y Bilbo? No pudo subir a ningun arbol, y coma de un tronco a otro, como un
conejo que no encuentra su madriguera mientras un perro lo persigue mordiendole
los talones.

— jOtra vez has dejado atras al saqueador! — dijo Nori a Dori mirando abajo.



— No me puedo pasar la vida cargando saqueadores — dijo Dori — , jtuneles abajo
y arboles arriba! ^Que te crees que soy? ^Un mozo de cuerda?

— Se lo comeran si no hacemos algo — dijo Thorin, pues ahora habia aullidos todo
alrededor, acercandose mas y mas — jDori! — llamo, pues Dori era el que estaba



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mas abajo, en el arbol mas facil de escalar — , jVe rapido, y dale una mano al
senor Bolson!

Dori era en realidad un buen muchacho a pesar de que protestara grunendo. El
pobre Bilbo no consiguio alcanzar la mano que le tendian aunque el enano
descendio a la rama mas baja y estiro el brazo todo lo que pudo. De modo que
Dori bajo realmente del arbol y ayudo a que Bilbo se le trepase a la espalda.

En ese preciso momento los lobos irrumpieron aullando en el claro. De pronto
hubo cientos de ojos observandolos desde las sombras. Pero Dori no solto a Bilbo.
Espero a que trepara de los hombros a las ramas, y luego salto. jJusto a tiempo!
Un lobo le echo una dentellada a la capa cuando aun se columpiaba en la rama de
abajo y casi lo alcanzo. Un minuto despues una manada entera gruhia alrededor
del arbol y saltaba hacia el tronco, los ojos encendidos y las lenguas fuera.

Pero ni siquiera los salvajes wargos (pues asi se llamaban los lobos malvados de
mas alia del Yermo) pueden trepar a los arboles. Por el momento los
expedicionarios estaban a salvo. Afortunadamente hacia calor y no habia viento.
Los arboles no son muy comodos para estar sentados en ellos un largo rato,
cualquiera que sea la circunstancia, pero al frio y al viento, con lobos que te
esperan abajo y alrededor, pueden ser sitios harto desagradables.

Este claro en el anillo de arboles era evidentemente un lugar de reunion de los
lobos. Mas y mas continuaban llegando. Unos pocos se quedaron al pie del arbol
en que estaban Dori y Bilbo, y los otros fueron venteando alrededor hasta
descubrir todos los arboles en los que habia alguien. Vigilaron estos tambien,
mientras el resto (parecian cientos y cientos) fue a sentarse en un gran circulo en
el claro; y en el centro del circulo habia un enorme lobo gris. Les hablo en la
espantosa lengua de los wargos. Gandalf la entendia. Bilbo no, pero el sonido era
terrible, y parecia que solo hablara de cosas malvadas y crueles, como asi era. De
vez en cuando todos los wargos del circulo respondian en coro al jefe gris, y el
espantoso clamor sacudia al hobbit, que casi se caia del pino.

Os dire lo que Gandalf oyo, aunque Bilbo no lo comprendiese. Los wargos y los
trasgos colaboraban a menudo en acciones perversas. Por lo comun, los trasgos
no se alejan de las montanas, a menos que se los persiga y esten buscando
nuevos lugares, o marchen a la guerra (y me alegra decir que esto no ha sucedido
desde hace largo tiempo). Pero en aquellos dias, a veces hacian incursiones, en
especial para conseguir comida o esclavos que trabajasen para ellos. En esos
casos, conseguian a menudo que los wargos los ayudasen, y se repartian el botin.
A veces cabalgaban en lobos, asi como los hombres montan en caballos. Ahora
parecia que una gran incursion de trasgos habia sido planeada para aquella
misma noche. Los wargos habian acudido para reunirse con los trasgos, y los
trasgos llegaban tarde. La razon, sin duda, era la muerte del Gran Trasgo y toda la
agitation causada por los enanos, Bilbo y Gandalf, a quienes quiza todavia
buscaban.

A pesar de los peligros de estas tierras lejanas, unos hombres audaces habian
venido alii desde el Sur, derribando arboles, y levantando moradas entre los
bosques mas placenteros de los valles y a lo largo de las riberas de los rios. Eran



66



muchos, y bravos y bien armados, y ni siquiera los wargos se atrevian a atacarlos
cuando los veian juntos, o a la luz del dia. Pero ahora habian planeado caer de
noche con la ayuda de los trasgos sobre algunas de las aldeas mas proximas a las
montanas. Si este plan se hubiese llevado a cabo, no habria quedado nadie alii al
dia siguiente; todos hubiesen sido asesinados, excepto los pocos que los trasgos
preservasen de los lobos y llevasen de vuelta a las cavernas, como prisioneros.

Era espantoso escuchar esa conversation, no solo por los bravos lenadores, las
mujeres y los ninos, sino tambien por el peligro que ahora amenazaba a Gandalf y
a sus compaheros. Los wargos estaban furiosos y se preguntaban desconcertados
que hacia esa gente en el mismisimo lugar de reunion. Pensaba que eran amigos
de los lenadores y habian venido a espiarlos, y advertirian a los valles, con lo cual
trasgos y lobos tendrian que librar una terrible batalla en vez de capturar
prisioneros y devorar gentes arrancadas bruscamente del sueho. De modo que los
wargos no tenian intention de alejarse y permitir que la gente de los arboles
escapase; de ninguna manera, no hasta la mahana. Y mucho antes, dijeron, los
soldados trasgos vendran, bajando de las montanas; y los trasgos pueden trepar a
los arboles, o derribarlos.

Ahora podeis comprender por que Gandalf, escuchando esos gruhidos y aullidos,
empezo a tener un miedo espantoso, mago como era, y a sentir que estaban en
un pesimo lugar y todavia no habian escapado del todo. Sin embargo, no les
dejaria el camino libre, aunque mucho no podia hacer aferrado a un gran arbol con
lobos por doquier alia en el suelo. Arranco unas pihas enormes de las ramas y en
seguida prendio fuego a una de ellas con una brillante llama azul, y la arrojo
zumbando hacia el circulo de lobos. Alcanzo a, uno en el lomo, y la piel velluda
empezo a arder, con lo cual la bestia salto de un lado a otro aullando
horriblemente. Luego cayo otra piha y otra, con llamas azules, rojas o verdes.
Estallaban en el suelo, en medio del circulo, y se esparcian en chispas coloreadas
y humo. una especialmente grande golpeo el hocico del lobo jefe, que salto diez
pies en el aire, y se lanzo dando vueltas y vueltas alrededor del circulo, con tanta
colera y tanto miedo que mordia y lanzaba dentelladas aun a, los otros lobos.

Los enanos y Bilbo gritaron y vitorearon. Era terrible ver la rabia de los lobos, y el
tumulto que hacian llenaba toda la floresta. Los lobos tienen miedo del fuego en
cualquier circunstancia, pero este era un fuego muy extraho y horroroso. Si una
chispa les tocaba la piel, se pegaba y les quemaba los pelos, y a menos que se
revolcasen rapido, pronto estaban envueltos en llamas. Muy pronto los lobos
estaban revolcandose por todo el claro una y otra vez para quitarse las chispas de
los lomos, mientras aquellos que ya ardian, corrian aullando y pegando fuego a
los demas, hasta que eran ahuyentados por sus propios compaheros, y huian
pendiente abajo, chillando y gimoteando y buscando agua.

— «j,Que es todo ese tumulto en el bosque? — dijo el Sehor de las Aguilas. Estaba
posado, negro a la, luz de la luna, en la cima de una solitaria cumbre rocosa del
borde oriental de las montanas — . jOigo voces de lobos! ^Andaran los trasgos de
fechorias en los bosques?



67



Se elevo en el aire, e inmediatamente dos de los guardianes del Senor lo siguieron
saltando desde las rocas de los lados. Volaron en circulos arriba en el cielo, y
observaron el anillo de los wargos, un minusculo punto muy, muy abajo. Pero las
aguilas tienen ojos penetrantes y pueden ver cosas pequenas desde una gran
distancia. El Senor de las Aguilas de las Montanas Nubladas tenia ojos capaces
de mirar al sol sin un parpadeo y de ver un conejo que se movia alia abajo a una
milla a la luz palida de la luna. De modo que aunque no alcanzaba a ver a la gente
en los arboles, podia distinguir los movimientos de los lobos y los minusculos
destellos de fuego, y oia los aullidos y ganidos que se elevaban tenues desde alia
abajo. Tambien pudo ver el destello de la luna en las lanzas y yelmos de los
trasgos, cuando unas largas hileras de esta gente malvada se arrastraron con
cautela, bajando las laderas de la calina desde la entrada a los tuneles, y
serpenteando en el bosque. Las aguilas no son aves bondadosas. Algunas son
cobardes y crueles. Pero la raza ancestral de las montanas del norte era la mas
grande entre todas. Altivas y fuertes, y de noble corazon, no querian a los trasgos,
ni los temian. Cuando les prestaban alguna atencion (lo que era raro, pues no se
alimentaban de tales criaturas), se precipitaban sobre ellos y los obligaban a
retirarse chillando a las cuevas, y detenian cualquier maldad en que estuviesen
empenados. Los trasgos odiaban a las aguilas y les tenian miedo, pero no podian
alcanzar aquellos encumbrados sitiales, ni sacarlas de las montanas.

Esa noche el Senor de las Aguilas tenia mucha curiosidad por saber que se
estaba tramando; de modo que convoco a otras aguilas, y juntas volaron desde las
cimas, y trazando circulos lentamente, siempre girando y girando, bajaron y
bajaron y bajaron hacia el anillo de los lobos y el sitio en que se reunian los
trasgos.

jAlgo muy bueno, por cierto! Cosas espantosas habian estado sucediendo alii
abajo. Los lobos alcanzados por las llamas habian huido al bosque, y habian
prendido fuego en varios sitios. Era pleno verano, y en este lado oriental de las
montanas habia llovido poco en los ultimos tiempos. Helechos amarillentos, ramas
caidas, espesas capas de agujas de pino, y aqui y alia arboles secos, pronto
empezaron a arder. Todo alrededor del claro de los wargos el fuego se elevaba en
llamaradas. Pero los lobos guardianes no abandonaban los arboles. Enloquecidos
y colericos saltaban y aullaban al pie de los troncos, y maldecian a los enanos en
aquel horrible lenguaje, con las lenguas fuera y los ojos brillantes tan rojos y fieros
como las llamas.

Entonces, de subito, los trasgos llegaron corriendo y aullando. Pensaban que se
estaba librando una batalla contra los hombres de los bosques, pero pronto
advirtieron lo que ocurria. Unos pocos llegaron a sentarse y heron. Otros
blandieron las lanzas y golpearon los mangos contra los escudos. Los trasgos no
temen al fuego, y pronto tuvieron un plan que les parecio de lo mas divertido.

Algunos reunieron a todos los lobos en una manada. Otros apilaron helechos y
brezos alrededor de los troncos, y se precipitaron en torno, y pisotearon y
golpearon, golpearon y pisotearon, hasta que apagaron casi todos los fuegos, pero
no los mas proximos a los arboles donde estaban los enanos. Estos fuegos los
alimentaron con hojas, ramas secas y helechos. Pronto un anillo de humo y llamas



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rodeo a los enanos, un anillo que no crecia hacia fuera, pero que se iba cerrando
lentamente, hasta que el fuego lamio la lena apilada bajo los arboles. El humo
llegaba a los ojos de Bilbo, podia sentir el calor de las llamas; y a traves de la
humareda alcanzaba a ver a los trasgos que danzaban, girando y girando, en un
circulo, como gente que celebraba alrededor de una hoguera la llegada del
verano. Fuera del circulo de guerreros danzantes, armados con lanzas y hachas,
los lobos se mantenian apartados, observando y aguardando.

Bilbo pudo oir a los trasgos que entonaban ahora una horrible cancion:

jQuince pajaros en cinco abetos

las plumas aventadas por una brisa ardiente!

Pero, que extrahos pajaros, jninguno tiene alas!
jOh! <j,Que haremos con estas raras gentes?
^Asarlas vivas, o hervirlas en la olla;
o freirlas, cocerlas y comerlas calientes?



Luego se detuvieron y gritaron: — jVolad, pajaritos! jVolad si podeis! jBajad,
pajaritos; os asareis en vuestros nidos! jCantad, cantad, pajaritos! <j,Por que no
cantais?

— jAlejaos, chiquillos! — grito Gandalf por respuesta , No es epoca de buscar

nidos. Y los chiquillos traviesos que juegan con fuego reciben lo que se merecen.
— Lo dijo para enfadarlos, y para mostrarles que no tenia miedo, aunque en
verdad lo tenia, mago y todo como era. Pero los trasgos no le prestaron atencion,
y siguieron cantando.



jQue ardan, que ardan, arboles y helechos?

jMarchitos y abrasados! Que la antorcha siseante

ilumine la noche para nuestro contento.

jEaya!

jQue los cuezan, tos Man y achicharren,

hasta que ardan las barbas, y los ojos se nublen,

y hiedan los cabellos y estallen los pellejos,

se disuelvan las grasas, y los huesos renegros

descansen en cenizas bajo el cielo!

Asi los enanos moriran,



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la noche iluminando para nuestro contento.

jEaya!

jEa pronto ya!

jEaque va!

Y con ese jea que va! las llamas llegaron bajo el arbol de Gandalf. En un momento
se extendieron a los otros. La corteza ardio, las ramas mas bajas crujieron.

Entonces Gandalf trepo a la copa del arbol. El subito resplandor estallo en su vara
como un relampago cuando se aprestaba a saltar y a caer, justo entre las lanzas
enemigas. Aquello hubiese sido el fin de Gandalf, aunque probablemente hubiese
matado a muchos, al precipitarse entre ellos como un rayo. Pero no llego a saltar.

En aquel preciso momento el Senor de las Aguilas se abalanzo desde lo alto, abrio
las garras, se apodero de Gandalf, y desaparecio.

Hubo un clamor de colera y sorpresa entre los trasgos. Fuerte chillo el Senor de
las Aguilas, a quien Gandalf habia ahora hablado. De vuelta se abalanzaron las
grandes aves que estaban con el, y descendieron como enormes sombras negras.
Los lobos gimotearon rechinando los dientes; los trasgos aullaron y patearon el
suelo con rabia, y arrojaron las pesadas lanzas al aire. Sobre ellos se lanzaron las
aguilas; la acometida oscura de las alas que batian los golpeo contra el Suelo o
los arrojo lejos; las garras les laceraron las caras. Otras veces volaron a las copas
de los arboles y se llevaron a los enanos, que ahora subian trepando a unas
alturas a las que nunca se habian atrevido a llegar.

i EEI pobre pequeho Bilbo estuvo muy cerca de que le dejaran de nuevo atras!
Alcanzo justo a aferrarse de las piernas de Dori cuando ya se lo llevaban, el ultimo
de todos; y arriba fueron juntos, sobre el tumulto y el incendio, Bilbo
columpiandose en el aire, sintiendo que se le romperian los brazos en cualquier
momento.

Mientras, alia abajo, los trasgos y los lobos Se habian dispersado en los bosques.
Unas cuantas aguilas estaban todavia trazando circulos y cerniendose sobre el
campo de batalla. De pronto las llamas de los arboles se alzaron por encima de
las ramas mas altas. Subieron con un fuego crepitante, y hubo un estallido de
chispas y humo. jBilbo habia escapado justo a tiempo!

Pronto las luces del incendio fueron tenues alia abajo; un parpadeo rojo en el
suelo negro; y las aguilas volaban muy alto, elevandose todo el tiempo en circulos
amplios y majestuosos. Bilbo nunca olvido aquel vuelo, abrazado a los tobillos de
Dori. Gemia: — jMis brazos, mis brazos! — mientras Dori plahia: — jMis pobres
piernas, mis pobres piernas!

En el mejor de los casos las alturas le daban vertigo a Bilbo. Bastaba que mirase
desde el borde de un risco pequeho para que se sintiera mareado. Nunca le
habian gustado las escaleras, y mucho menos los arboles (antes nunca habia
tenido que escapar de los lobos). De manera que podeis imaginar como le daba



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vueltas ahora la cabeza, cuando miraba hacia abajo entre los colgantes dedos de
los pies y veia las tierras oscuras que se ensanchaban debajo, tocadas aqui y alia
por la luz de la luna en la roca de una ladera o en un arroyo de los llanos.

Los picos de las montanas se estaban acercando; puntas rocosas iluminadas por
la luna asomaban entre las sombras negras. Verano o no, el aire parecia muy frfo.
Cerro los ojos y se pregunto si seria capaz de seguir sosteniendose asi mucho
mas. Luego imagino que sucederia si no aguantaba. Se sintio enfermo.

El vuelo termino justo a tiempo para Bilbo, justo antes de que aflojara las manos.
Se solto de los tobillos de Dori con un grito sofocado y cayo sobre la tosca plata
forma de un aguilero. Alii quedo un rato tendido sin decir una palabra, con
pensamientos que eran una mezcla de sorpresa por haberse salvado del fuego y
de miedo a caer de aquel sitio estrecho a las espesas sombras de ambos lados.
Sentia la cabeza verdaderamente muy rara en aquel momento, despues de las
espantosas aventuras de los tres ultimos dias, casi sin nada para comer, y de
pronto se encontro diciendo en voz alta:

— jAhora se como se siente un trozo de panceta cuando la sacan de pronto de la
sarten con un tenedor y la ponen de vuelta en la alacena!

— jNo, no lo sabes! — oyo que Dori respondia — , pues la panceta sabe que
volvera, tarde o temprano, a la sarten: y es de esperar que nosotros no. jAdemas
las aguilas no son tenedores!

— jOh no! No se parecen nada a pajaros ponedores, tenedores, quiero decir —
contesto Bilbo incorporandose y observando con ansiedad al aguila que estaba
posada cerca. Se pregunto que otras tonterias habria estado diciendo, y si el
aguila lo consideraria ofensivo. jUno no ha de ser grosero con un aguila si solo
tiene el tamaho de un hobbit y esta de noche en el aguilero!

El aguila se afilo el pico en una roca y se aliso las plumas, sin prestar atencion.

Pronto llego volando otra aguila. — El Sehor de las Aguilas te ordena traer a tus
prisioneros a la Gran Repisa — chillo, y se fue. La Otra tomo a Dori en sus garras y
partio volando con el hacia la noche, dejando a Bilbo completamente solo. Las
pocas fuerzas que le quedaban le alcanzaban apenas para preguntarse que
habria querido decir el aguila con "prisioneros", y ya empezaba a pensar que lo
abririan en dos como un conejo para la cena, cuando le llego el turno.

El aguila regreso, lo agarro por el dorso de la chaqueta, y se lanzo fuera. Esta vez
el vuelo fue corto. Muy pronto Bilbo estuvo tumbado, temblando de miedo, en una
amplia repisa en la ladera de la montaha. No habia manera de descender hasta
alii, sino volando; y no habia sendero para bajar excepto saltando a un precipicio.
Alii encontro a todos los otros, sentados de espaldas a la pared montahosa. El
Sehor de las Aguilas estaba tambien alii y hablaba con Gandalf.

Quiza a Bilbo no se lo iban a comer, despues de todo. El mago y el aguila
parecian conocerse de alguna manera, y aun estar en buenas relaciones. En
realidad Gandalf, que habia visitado a menudo las montanas, habia ayudado una
vez a las aguilas y habia curado al Sehor de una herida de flecha. Asi que como
veis, "prisioneros queria decir "prisioneros rescatados de los trasgos" solamente, y



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no cautivos de las aguilas. Cuando Bilbo escucho la conversation de Gandalf
comprendio que por fin iban a escapar real y verdaderamente de aquellas cimas
espantosas. Estaba discutiendo planes con el Gran Aguila para transportar lejos a
los enanos, a el y a Bilbo, y dejarlos justo en el camino que cruzaba los llanos de
abajo.

El Senor de las Aguilas no los llevaria a ningun lugar proximo a las moradas de los
hombres. — Nos dispararian con esos grandes arcos de tejo — dijo — , pensando
que vamos a robarles las ovejas. Y en otras ocasiones estarian en lo cierto. jNo!
Nos satisface burlar a los trasgos, y pagarte asi nuestra deuda de gratitud, pero no
nos arriesgaremos por los enanos en los llanos del sur.

— Muy bien — dijo Gandalf — jLlevadnos a cualquier sitio y tan lejos como querais!
Ya habeis hecho mucho por nosotros. Pero mientras tanto, estamos famelicos.

— Yo casi estoy muerto de hambre — dijo Bilbo con una debil vocecita que nadie
oyo.

— Eso tal vez pueda tener remedio — dijo el Senor de las Aguilas.

Mas tarde podriais haber visto un brillante fuego en la repisa de piedra, y las
figuras de los enanos alrededor, cocinando y envueltos en un exquisito olor a
asado. Las aguilas habian traido unos arbustos secos para el fuego, y conejos,
liebres y una pequena oveja. Los enanos se encargaron de todos los preparativos.
Bilbo se sentia demasiado debil para ayudar, y de cualquier modo no era muy
bueno desollando conejos o picando carne, pues estaba acostumbrado a que el
carnicero se la entregase lista ya para cocinar. Gandalf estaba echado tambien,
luego de haberse ocupado de encender el fuego, ya que 6in y Gloin habian
perdido sus yescas. (Los enanos nunca fueron aficionados a las cerillas, ni
siquiera entonces.)

Asi concluyeron las aventuras de las Montahas Nubladas. Pronto el estomago de
Bilbo estuvo lleno y confortado de nuevo, y sintio que podia dormir sin
preocupaciones, aunque en realidad le habria gustado mas una hogaza con
mantequilla que aquellos trozos de carne costada en varas. Durmio hecho un
ovillo en la piedra dura, mas profundamente de lo que habia dormido nunca en el
lecho de plumas de su propio pequeho agujero. Pero soho toda la noche con su
casa, y recorrio en suehos todas las habitaciones buscando algo que no podia
encontrar, y que no sabia que era.

EXTRANOS APOSENTOS

A la mahana siguiente Bilbo desperto con el sol temprano en los ojos. Se levanto
de un salto para mirar la hora y poner la marmita al fuego... y descubrio que no
estaba en casa, de ningun modo. Asi que se sento, deseando en vano un baho y
un cepillo. No los consiguio, ni te, ni tostadas, ni panceta para el desayuno, solo
cordero frio y conejo. Y en seguida tuvo que prepararse para la inminente partida.

Esta vez se le permitio montar en el lomo de un aguila y sostenerse entre las alas.
El aire golpeaba y Bilbo cerraba los ojos. Los enanos gritaban despidiendose y



72



prometiendo devolver el favor al Senor de las Aguilas si alguna vez era posible,
mientras quince grandes aves partian de la ladera de la montana. El sol estaba
todavia cerca de los lindes orientales. La manana era fria, y habia nieblas en los
valles y hondonadas, y sobre los picos y crestas de las colinas. Bilbo abrio un ojo y
vio que las aves estaban ya muy arriba y el mundo muy lejos, y que las montanas
se empequenecian atras. Cerro otra vez los ojos y se aferro con mas fuerza.

— jNo pellizques! — dijo el aguila — . No tienes por que asustarte como un conejo,
aunque te parezcas bastante a uno. Hace una bonita manana y el viento sopla
apenas. <j,Hay algo mas agradable que volar?

A Bilbo le hubiese gustado decir: "Un bano caliente y despues, mas tarde, un
desayuno sobre la hierba"; pero le parecio mejor no decir nada y aflojo un poquito
las manos.

Al cabo de un buen rato, las aguilas divisaron sin duda el punto al que se dirigfan,
aun desde aquellas alturas, pues empezaron a volar en circulos, descendiendo en
amplias espirales. Bajaron asi un tiempo, y al final el hobbit abrio de nuevo los
ojos. La tierra estaba mucho mas cerca, y debajo habia arboles que parecian
olmos y robles, y amplias praderas, y un no que lo atravesaba todo. Pero
sobresaliendo del terreno, justo en el curso del no que alii serpenteaba, habia una
gran roca, casi una colina de piedra, como una ultima avanzada de las montanas
distantes, o un enorme pehasco arrojado millas adentro en la llanura por algun
gigante entre gigantes.

Las aguilas descendian ahora con rapidez una a una sobre la cima de la roca, y
dejaban alii a los pasajeros.

— jBuen viaje! — gritaron — . jDonde quiera que vayais, hasta que los nidos os
reciban al final de la Jornada! — una formula de cortesia comun entre estas aves.

— Que el viento bajo las alas os sostenga alia donde el sol navega y la luna
camina — respondio Gandalf, que conocia la respuesta correcta.

Y de este modo partieron. Y aunque el Sehor de las Aguilas llego a ser Rey de
Todos los Pajaros, y tuvo una corona de oro, y los quince lugartenientes llevaron
collares de oro (fabricados con el oro de los enanos), Bilbo nunca volvio a verlos,
excepto en la batalla de los Cinco Ejercitos, lejos y arriba. Pero como esto ocurre
al final de la historia, por ahora no diremos mas.

Habia un espacio liso en la cima de la colina de piedra y un sendero de gastados
escalones que descendian hasta el no; y un vado de piedras grandes y chatas
llevaba a la pradera del otro lado. Alii habia una cueva pequeha (acogedora y con
suelo de guijarros), al pie de los escalones, casi al final del vado pedregoso. El
grupo se reunio en la cueva y discutio lo que se iba a hacer.

— Siempre quise veros a todos a salvo (si era posible) del otro lado de las
montanas — dijo el mago — , y ahora, gracias al buen gobierno y a la buena suerte,
lo he conseguido. En realidad hemos avanzado hacia el este mas de lo que yo
deseaba, pues al fin y al cabo esta no es mi aventura. Puedo venir a veros antes
que todo concluya, pero mientras tanto he de atender otro asunto urgente.



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Los enanos gemian y parecian desolados, y Bilbo lloraba. Habian empezado a
Creer que Gandalf los acompanaria durante todo el trayecto y estaria siempre alii
para sacarlos de cualquier dificultad. — No desaparecere en este mismo instante
— dijo el mago — Puedo daros un dia o dos mas. Quiza llegue a echaros una mano
en este apuro, y yo tambien necesito una pequena ayuda. No tenemos comida, ni
equipaje, ni poneys que montar; y no sabeis donde estais ahora. Yo puedo
decfroslo. Estais todavia algunas millas al norte del sendero que tendriamos que
haber tornado, si no hubiesemos cruzado la montana con tanta prisa. Muy poca
gente vive en estos parajes, a menos que hayan venido desde la ultima vez que
estuve aqui abajo, anos atras. Pero conozco a alguien que vive no muy lejos. Ese
Alguien tallo los escalones en la gran roca, la Carroca creo que la llama. No viene
a menudo por aqui, desde luego no durante el dia, y no vale la pena esperarlo. A
decir verdad, seria muy peligroso. Tenemos que salir y encontrarlo; y si todo va
bien en dicho encuentro, creo que partire y os deseare como las aguilas "buen
viaje a donde quiera que vayais".

Le pidieron que no los dejase. Le ofrecieron oro del dragon y plata y joyas, pero el
mago no se inmuto. — jNos veremos, nos veremos! — dijo — , y creo que ya me he
ganado algo de ese oro del dragon, cuando le echeis mano.

Los enanos dejaron entonces de suplicar. Se sacaron la ropa y se baharon en el
no, que en el vado era poco profundo, claro y pedregoso. Luego de secarse al sol,
que ahora caia con fuerza, se sintieron refrescados, aunque todavia doloridos y un
poco hambrientos. Pronto cruzaron el vado (cargando con el hobbit), y luego
marcharon entre la abundante hierba verde y bajo la hilera, de robles anchos de
brazos y los olmos altos.

— i,Y por que se le llama la Carroca? — pregunto Bilbo cuando caminaba junto al
mago.

— La llamo la Carroca, porque carroca es la palabra para ella. Llama carrocas a
cosas asi, y esta es la Carroca, pues es la unica cerca de su casa y la conoce
bien.

— ^Quien la llama? ^Quien la conoce?

— Ese Alguien de quien hable... una gran persona. Teneis que ser todos muy
corteses cuando os presente. Os presentare muy poco a poco, de dos en dos,
creo; y cuidareis de no molestarlo, o solo los cielos saben lo que ocurriria. Cuando
se enfada puede resultar desagradable, aunque es muy amable si esta de buen
humor. Sin embargo, os advierto que se enfada con bastante facilidad.

Todos los enanos se juntaron alrededor cuando oyeron que el mago hablaba asi
con Bilbo. — <j,Es a el a quien nos llevas ahora? — inquirieron — <j,No podrias
encontrar a alguien de mejor caracter? ^No seria mejor que lo explicases un poco
mas? — y asi una pregunta tras otra.

— jSi, si, por supuesto! jNo, no podria! Y lo he explicado muy bien — respondio el
mago, enojado — Si necesitais saber algo mas, se llama Beorn.. Es muy fuerte, y
un cambia pieles ademas.



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— jQue! ^Un peletero? ^Un hombre que llama a los conejos roedores, cuando no
puede hacer pasar las pieles de conejo por pieles de ardilla? — pregunto Bilbo.

— jCielos, no, no, no, no! — dijo Gandalf — . No seas estupido, senor Bolson, si
puedes evitarlo, y en nombre de toda maravilla haz el favor de no mencionar la
palabra peletero mientras te encuentras en un area de cien millas a la redonda de
su casa, jni alfombra, ni capa, ni estola, ni manguito, ni cualquier otra palabra tan
funesta! El es un cambia pieles, cambia de piel: unas veces es un enorme oso
negro, otras un hombre vigoroso y corpulento de pelo oscuro, con grandes brazos
y luenga barba. No puedo deciros mucho mas, aunque eso tendria que bastaros.
Algunos dicen que es un oso descendiente de los grandes y antiguos osos de las
montanas, que vivian alii antes que llegasen los gigantes. Otros dicen que
desciende de los primeros hombres que vivieron antes que Smaug o los otros
dragones dominasen esta parte del mundo, y antes que los trasgos del Norte
viniesen a las colinas. No puedo asegurarlo, pero creo que la ultima version es la
verdadera. A el no le gustan los interrogatorios.

"De todos modos no esta bajo ningun encantamiento que no sea el propio. Vive en
un robledal y tiene una gran casa de madera, y como hombre cria ganado y
caballos casi tan maravillosos como el mismo. Trabajan para el y le hablan. No se
los come; no caza ni come animales salvajes. Cria tambien colmenas, colmenas
de abejas enormes y fieras, y se alimenta principalmente de crema y miel. Como
oso viaja a todo lo largo y ancho. Una vez, de noche, lo vi sentado solo sobre la
Carroca mirando como la luna se hundia detras de las Montanas Nubladas, y lo of
gruhir en la lengua de los osos: 'jLlegara el dia en que pereceran, y entonces
volvere!'. Por eso se me ocurre que vino de las montanas.

Bilbo y los enanos tenian ahora bastante en que pensar y no hicieron mas
preguntas. Todavia les quedaba mucho camino por delante. Ladera arriba, valle
abajo, avanzaban afanosamente. Hacia cada vez mas calor. Algunas veces
descansaban bajo los arboles, y entonces Bilbo se sentia tan hambriento que no
hubiera desdehado las bellotas, si estuviesen bastante maduras como para haber
caido al suelo.

Ya mediaba la tarde cuando entraron en unas extensas zonas de flores, todas de
la misma especie, y que crecian juntas, como plantadas. Abundaba el trebol, unas
ondulantes parcelas de treboles rosados y purpureos, y amplias extensiones de
trebol dulce, bianco y pequeho, con olor a miel. Habia un zumbido, y un murmullo
y un runrun en el aire. Las abejas andaban atareadas de un lado para otro. jY
vaya abejas! Bilbo nunca habia visto nada parecido.

— Si una llegase a picarme — se dijo — me hincharia hasta el doble de mi tamaho.

Eran mas corpulentas que avispones Los zanganos, bastante mas grandes que
vuestros pulgares, llevaban bandas amarillas que brillaban como oro ardiente en el
negro intenso de los cuerpos.

— Nos acercamos — dijo Gandalf — Estamos en los lindes de los campos de
abejas.



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Al cabo de un rato llegaron a un terreno de robles altos y muy viejos, y luego a un
crecido seto de espinos, que no dejaba ver nada, ni era posible atravesar.

— Es mejor que espereis aqui — dijo el mago a los enanos — , y cuando grite o
silbe, seguidme, pues ya vereis el camino que tomo, pero venid solo en parejas,
tenedlo en cuenta, unos cinco minutos entre cada pareja. Bombur es mas grueso y
valdra por dos mejor que venga solo y ultimo. jVamos, senor Bolson! Hay una
cancela por aqui cerca en alguna parte. — Y con eso se fue caminando a lo largo
del seto, llevando consigo al hobbit aterrorizado.

Pronto llegaron a una cancela de madera, alta y ancha, y desde alii, a lo lejos,
podian ver jardines y un grupo de edificios de madera, algunos con techo de paja
y paredes de lenos informes: graneros, establos y una casa grande y de techo
bajo, todo de madera. Dentro, al fondo del gran seto, habia hileras e hileras de
colmenas con cubiertas acampanadas de paja. El ruido de las abejas gigantes que
volaban de un lado a otro y pululaban dentro y fuera, colmaba el aire.

El mago y el hobbit empujaron la cancela pesada y crujiente, y descendieron por
un sendero ancho hacia la casa. Algunos caballos muy lustrosos y bien
almohazados trotaban pradera arriba y los observaban con expresion inteligente;
despues fueron al galope hacia los edificios.

— Han ido a comunicarle la llegada de forasteros — dijo Gandalf.

Pronto entraron en un patio, tres de cuyas paredes estaban formadas por la casa
de madera y las dos largas alas. En medio habia un grueso tronco de roble, con
muchas ramas desmochadas al lado. Cerca, de pie, los esperaba un hombre
enorme de barba espesa y pelinegro, con brazos y piernas desnudos, de
musculos abultados. Vestia una tunica de lana que le caia hasta las rodillas, y se
apoyaba en una gran hacha. Los caballos pegaban los morros al hombro del
gigante.

— i Uf ! jAqui estan! — dijo a los caballos — . No parecen peligrosos. jPodeis iros! —
Rio con una risa atronadora, bajo el hacha, y se adelanto. — ^Quienes sois y que
quereis? — pregunto malhumorado, de pie delante de ellos y encumbrandose por
encima de Gandalf. En cuanto a Bilbo, bien podia haber trotado por entre las
piernas del hombre sin necesitar agachar la cabeza para no rozar el borde de la
tunica marron.

— Soy Gandalf — dijo el mago.

— Nunca he oido hablar de el — gruho el hombre — , Y ^que es este pequehajo? —
dijo, y se inclino y miro al hobbit frunciendo las cejas negras y espesas.

Este es el sehor Bolson, un hobbit de buena familia y reputacion impecable —



dijo Gandalf. Bilbo hizo una reverencia. No tenia sombrero que quitarse y se
sentia molesto pensando que le faltaban algunos botones — Yo soy un mago —
continuo Gandalf — He oido hablar de ti, aunque tu no de mi; pero quiza algo
sepas de mi buen primo Radagast que vive cerca de la frontera meridional del
Bosque Negro.



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— Si; no es un mal hombre, tal como andan hoy los magos, creo. Solia verlo con
bastante frecuencia — dijo Beorn — Bien, ahora se quien eres, o quien dices que
eres. <j,Que deseas?

— Para serte sincero, hemos perdido el equipaje y casi el camino, y necesitamos
ayuda, o al menos consejo. Diria que hemos pasado un rato bastante malo con los
trasgos, alia en las montahas.

— ^Trasgos? — dijo el hombron menos malhumorado — Aja, ^asi que habeis
tenido problemas con ellos? ^Para que os acercasteis a esos trasgos?

— No pretendiamos hacerlo. Nos sorprendieron de noche en un paso por el que
teniamos que cruzar. Estabamos saliendo de los territorios del Oeste, y llegando
aquL, es una larga historia.

— Entonces sera mejor que entreis y me conteis algo de eso, si no os Neva todo el
dia — dijo el hombre, volviendose hacia una puerta oscura que daba al patio y al
interior de la casa.

Siguiendolo, se encontraron en una sala espaciosa con una chimenea en el
medio. Aunque era verano habia troncos quemandose, y el humo se elevaba
hasta las vigas ennegrecidas y salia a traves de una abertura en el techo.
Cruzaron esta sala mortecina, solo iluminada por el fuego y el orificio de arriba, y
entraron por Otra puerta mas pequeha en una especie de veranda sostenida por
unos postes de madera que eran simples troncos de arbol. Estaba orientada al
sur, y todavia se sentia el calor y la luz del sol poniente que se deslizaba dentro y
caia en destellos dorados sobre el jardin florecido, que llegaba al pie de los
escalones.

Alii se sentaron en bancos de madera mientras Gandalf comenzaba la historia.
Bilbo balanceaba las piernas colgantes y contemplaba las flores del jardin,
preguntandose que nombres tendrian; nunca habia visto antes ni la mitad de ellas.

— Venia yo por las montahas con un amigo o dos... — dijo el mago.

— ^O dos? Solo puedo ver uno, y en verdad bastante pequeho — dijo Beorn.

— Bien, para serte sincero, no queria molestarte con todos nosotros hasta
averiguar si estabas ocupado. Hare una llamada, si me permites.

— jVamos, llama!

De modo que Gandalf dio un largo y penetrante silbido, y al momento aparecieron
Thorin y Dori rodeando la casa por el sendero del jardin. Al llegar saludaron con
una reverencia.

— juno o tres querias decir, ya veo! — dijo Beorn — , pero estos no son hobbits,
json enanos!

— jThorin Escudo de Roble a vuestro servicio! jDori a vuestro servicio! — dijeron
los dos enanos volviendo a hacer grandes reverencias.

— No necesito vuestro servicio, gracias — dijo Beorn — , pero espero que vosotros
necesiteis el mio. No soy muy aficionado a los enanos; pero si en verdad eres
Thorin (hijo de Thrain, hijo de Thror, creo), y que tu compahero es respetable, y



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que sois enemigos de los trasgos y que no habeis venido a mis tierras con fines
malvados... por cierto, ^a que habeis venido?

— Estan en camino para visitar la tierra de sus padres, alia al Este, cruzando el
Bosque Negro — explico Gandalf — , y solo por mero accidente nos encontramos
aqui, en tus tierras. Atravesabamos el Desfiladero Alto que podria habernos
llevado al camino del sur, cuando fuimos atacados por unos trasgos malvados...
como estaba a punto de decirte.

— jSigue contando entonces! — dijo Beorn, que nunca era muy cortes.

— Hubo una terrible tormenta; los gigantes de piedra estaban fuera lanzando
rocas, y al final del desfiladero nos refugiamos en una cueva, el hobbit, yo y varios
de nuestros compaheros...

— I Llamas varios a dos?

— Bien, no. En realidad habia mas de dos,

— <^D6nde estan? ^Muertos, devorados, de vuelta en casa?

— Bien, no. Parece que no vinieron todos cuando silbe. Timidos, supongo. Ves,
me temo que seamos demasiados para hacerte perder el tiempo.

— Vamos, jsilba otra vez! Parece que reunire aqui todo un grupo, y uno o dos no
hacen mucha diferencia — refunfuho Beorn.

Gandalf silbo de nuevo; pero Nori y Oh estaban alii antes de que hubiese dejado
de llamar, porque, si lo recordais, Gandalf les habia dicho que viniesen por parejas
de cinco en cinco minutos.

— Hola — dijo Beorn — . Vinisteis muy rapidos. ^Donde estabais escondidos?
Acercaos, muhecos de resorte.

— Nori a vuestro servicio, Oh a... — empezaron a decir los enanos, pero Beorn los
interrumpio.

— jGracias! Cuando necesite vuestra ayuda, os la pedire. Sentaos, y sigamos con
la historia o sera hora de cenar antes que acabe.

— Tan pronto como estuvimos dormidos — continuo Gandalf — , una grieta se abrio
en el fondo de la caverna; unos trasgos saltaron y capturaron al hobbit, a los
enanos y nuestra recua de poneys...

— ^Recua de poneys? <j,Que erais... un circo ambulante? L transportabais
montones de mercancias? L siempre llamais recua a seis?

— jOh, no! En realidad habia mas de seis poneys, pues eramos mas de seis... y
bien jaqui hay dos mas!

— Justo en ese momento aparecieron Balin y Dwalin, y se inclinaron tanto que
barrieron con las barbas el piso de piedra. El hombron fruncio el ceho al principio,
pero los enanos se esforzaron en parecer terriblemente corteses, y siguieron
moviendo la cabeza, inclinandose, haciendo reverencias y agitando los
capuchones delante de las rodillas (al autentico estilo enano) hasta que Beorn no
pudo mas y estallo en una risa sofocada: jparecfan tan comicos!



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— Recua, era lo correcto — dijo — Una fabulosa recua de comicos. Entrad mis
alegres hombrecitos, <j,y cuales son vuestros nombres? No necesito que me sirvais
ahora mismo, solo vuestros nombres. jSentaos de una vez y dejad de menearos!

— Balin y Dwalin — dijeron, no atreviendose a mostrarse ofendidos, y se sentaron
dejandose caer pesadamente al suelo, un tanto estupefactos.

— jAhora continuemos! — dijo Beorn a Gandalf.

— ^Donde estaba? Ah si... A mi no me atraparon, Mate un trasgo o dos con un
relampago...

— jBien! — gruno Beorn — De algo vale ser mago entonces.

— ..y me deslice por la grieta antes que se cerrase. Segui bajando hasta la sala
principal, que estaba atestada de trasgos. El Gran Trasgo se encontraba alii con
treinta o cuarenta guardias. Pense para mi que aunque no estuviesen
encadenados todos juntos, <j,que podia hacer una docena contra toda una
multitud?

— jUna docena! Nunca habia oido que ocho es una docena. <j,0 es que todavia
tienes mas munecos de resorte que no han salido de sus cajas?

— Bien, si, me parece que hay una pareja mas por aqui cerca... Fili y Kili, creo —
dijo Gandalf cuando estos aparecieron sonriendo y haciendo reverencias.

— jEs suficiente! — dijo Beorn — jSentaos y estaos quietos! jProsigue, Gandalf!

Gandalf siguio con su historia, hasta que llego a la pelea en la oscuridad, el
descubrimiento de la puerta mas baja y el panico que sintieron todos al advertir
que el sehor Bilbo Bolson no estaba con ellos. — Nos contamos y vimos que no
habia alii ningun hobbit. jSolo quedabamos catorce!

— jCatorce! Esta es la primera vez que si a diez le quitas uno quedan catorce.
Quieres decir nueve, o aun no me has dicho todos los nombres de tu grupo.

— Bien, desde luego todavia no has visto a 6in y a

Gloin. jY mira! Aqui estan. Espero que los perdonaras por molestarte.

— jOh, deja que vengan todos! jDaos prisa! Acercaos vosotros dos y sentaos.
Pero mira, Gandalf, aun ahora estais solo tu y los enanos y el hobbit que se habia
perdido. Eso suma solo once (mas uno perdido), no catorce, a menos que los
magos no cuenten como los demas. Pero ahora, por favor, sigue con la historia. —
Beorn trato de disimularlo, pero en verdad la historia habia empezado a
interesarle, pues en otros tiempos habia conocido esa parte de las montahas que
Gandalf describia ahora. Movio la cabeza y gruho cuando oyo hablar de la
reaparicion del hobbit, de como tuvieron que gatear por el sendero de piedra y del
circulo de lobos entre los arboles.

Cuando Gandalf conto como treparon a los arboles con todos los lobos debajo,
Beorn se levanto, dio unas zancadas y murmuro: — jOjala hubiese estado alii! jLes
hubiese dado algo mas que fuegos artificiales!



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— Bien — dijo Gandalf, muy contento al ver que su historia estaba causando buena
impresion — , hice todo lo que pude. Alii estabamos, con los lobos volviendose
locos debajo de nosotros, y el bosque empezando a arder por todas partes,
cuando bajaron los trasgos de las colinas y nos descubrieron. Daban alaridos de
placer y cantaban canciones burlandose de nosotros. Quince pajaros en cinco
abetos...

— jCielos! — gruno Beorn — No me vengais ahora con que los trasgos no pueden
contar. Pueden. Doce no son quince, y ellos lo saben.

— Y yo tambien. Estaban ademas Bifur y Bofur. No me he aventurado a
presentarlos antes, pero aqui los tienes.

Adentro pasaron Bifur y Bofur. — jY yo! — grito el gordo Bombur jadeando detras,
enfadado por haber quedado ultimo. Se nego a esperar cinco minutos, y habia
venido detras de los otros dos.

— Bien, ahora aqui estan, los quince; y ya que los trasgos saben contar, imagino
que eso es todo lo que habia alii arriba en los arboles. Ahora quiza podamos
acabar la historia sin mas interrupciones. — El sehor Bolson comprendio entonces
que astuto habia sido Gandalf. Las interrupciones habian conseguido que Beorn
se interesase mas en la historia, y esto habia impedido que expulsase en seguida
a los enanos como mendigos sospechosos. Nunca invitaba gente a su casa, si
podia evitarlo. Tenia muy pocos amigos y vivian bastante lejos; y nunca invitaba a
mas de dos a la vez. jY ahora tenia quince extrahos sentados en el porche!

Cuando el mago concluia su relato, y mientras contaba el rescate de las aguilas y
de como los habian llevado a la Carroca, el sol ya se ocultaba detras de las
Montahas Nubladas y las sombras se alargaban en el jardin de Beorn.

— Un relato muy bueno — dijo — El mejor que he oido desde hace mucho tiempo.
Si todos los pordioseros pudiesen contar uno tan bueno, llegaria a parecerles mas
amable. Es posible, claro, que lo hayais inventado todo, pero aun asi mereceis
una cena por la historia. jVamos a comer algo!

— jSi, por favor! — exclamaron todos juntos — jMuchas gracias!

La sala era (ahora) bastante oscura. Beorn batio las manos, y entraron trotando
cuatro hermosos poneys blancos y varios perros grandes de cuerpo largo y
pelambre gris. Beorn les dijo algo en una lengua extraha, que parecia sonidos de
animales transformados en conversation. Volvieron a salir y pronto regresaron con
antorchas en la boca, y en seguida las encendieron en el fuego y las colgaron en
los soportes de los pilares, cerca de la chimenea central. Los perros podian
sostenerse a voluntad sobre los cuartos traseros, y transportaban cosas con las
patas delanteras. Con gran diligencia sacaban tablas y caballetes de las paredes
laterales y las amontonaban cerca del fuego.

Luego se oyo un jbeee!, y entraron unas ovejas blancas como la nieve precedidas
por un carnero negro corno el carbon. Una llevaba un paho bordado en los bordes
con figuras de animales; otras sostenian sobre los lomos bandejas con cuencos,
fuentes, cuchillos y cucharas de madera, que los perros cogian y dejaban
rapidamente sobre las mesas de caballete. Estas eran muy bajas, tanto que Bilbo



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podia sentarse con comodidad. Junto a el, un poney empujaba dos bancos de
asientos bajos y corredizos, con patas pequenas, gruesas y cortas, para Gandalf y
Thorin, mientras que al otro extremo ponian la gran silla negra de Beorn, del
mismo estilo (en la que se sentaba con las enormes piernas estiradas bajo la
mesa). Estas eran todas las sillas que tenia en la sala, y quiza tan bajas como las
mesas para conveniencia de los maravillosos animales que le Servian. <j,En donde
se sentaban los demas? No los habia olvidado. Los otros poneys entraron
haciendo rodar unas secciones conicas de troncos alisadas y pulidas, y bajas aun
para Bilbo; y muy pronto todos estuvieron sentados a la mesa de Beorn. La sala
no habia visto una reunion semejante desde hacia muchos anos.

Alii merendaron, o cenaron, como no lo habian hecho desde que dejaron la Ultima
Morada en el Oeste y dijeron adios a Elrond. La luz de las antorchas y el fuego
titilaban alrededor, y sobre la mesa habia dos velas altas de cera roja de abeja.
Todo el tiempo mientras comian, Beorn, con una voz profunda y atronadora,
contaba historias de las tierras salvajes de aquel lado de la montaha, y
especialmente del oscuro y peligroso

bosque que se extendia ante ellos de norte a sur, a un dia de cabalgata. Por no
hablar del Este, el terrible bosque denominado el Bosque Negro.

Los enanos escuchaban y se mesaban las barbas, pues pronto tendrian que
aventurarse en ese bosque, y despues de las montanas el bosque era el peor de
los peligros, antes de llegar a la fortaleza del dragon. Cuando la cena termino, se
pusieron a contar historias de su propia cosecha, pero Beorn parecia bastante
amodorra do y no ponia mucha atencion. Hablaban sobre todo de oro, plata y
joyas, y de trabajos de orfebreria, y a Beorn no le interesaban esas cosas: no
habia nada ni de oro ni de plata en la sala, y pocos objetos, excepto los cuchillos,
eran de metal.

Estuvieron largo rato de sobremesa bebiendo hidromiel en cuencos de madera.
Fuera se extendia la noche oscura. Los fuegos en medio de la sala eran
alimentados con nuevos lehos; las antorchas se apagaron, y se sentaron
tranquilos a la luz de las llamas danzantes, con los pilares de la casa altos a sus
espaldas, y oscuros, como copas de arboles, en la parte superior. Fuese magia o
no, a Bilbo le parecio oir un sonido como de viento sobre las ramas, que
golpeaban el techo, y el ulular de unos buhos. Al poco rato empezo a cabecear, y
las voces parecian venir de muy lejos, hasta que desperto con un sobresalto.

La gran puerta habia rechinado y en seguida se cerro de golpe. Beorn habia
salido. Los enanos estaban aun sentados en el suelo, alrededor del fuego, con las
piernas cruzadas. De pronto se pusieron a cantar. Algunos de los versos eran
como estos, aunque hubo muchos y el canto siguio durante largo rato.

El viento soplaba en el brezal agostado,
pero no se movia una hoja en el bosque;
criaturas oscuras reptaban en silencio,



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y alii estaban las sombras dia y noche.

El viento bajaba, de las montanas Mas,
y como una marea rugfa y rodaba,
la rama crujia, el bosque gemia
y alii se amontonaba la hojarasca..

El viento resoplaba viniendo del oeste,
y todo movimiento termino en la floresta,
pero asperas y roncas cruzando los pantanos,
las voces sibilantes al fin se liberaron.

Las hierbas sisearon con las flores dobladas;
los juncos golpetearon. Los vientos avanzaban
sobre un estanque tremulo bajo cielos helados,
rasgando y dispersando las nubes rapidas.

Pasando por encima del cubil del Dragon,
dejo atras la Montana solitaria y desnuda;
habia alii unas piedras oscuras y compactas,
y en el aire flotaba una bruma.

El mundo abandono y se elevo volando
sobre una noche amplia de mareas.
La luna navego sobre los vientos
y avivo el resplandor de las estrellas.

Bilbo cabeceo de nuevo. De pronto, Gandalf se puso de pie.

— Es hora de dormir — dijo — , para nosotros, aunque no creo que para Beorn. En
esta sala podemos descansar seguros, pero os aconsejo que no olvideis lo que
Beorn dijo antes de irse: no os paseeis por afuera hasta que el sol este alto, pues
seria peligroso.

Bilbo descubrio que habian puesto unas camas a un lado de la sala, sobre una
especie de plataforma entre los pilares y la pared exterior. Para el habia un



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pequeno edredon de paja y unas mantas de lana. Se metio entre las mantas muy
complacido, como si se tratara de un dia de verano. El fuego ardia bajo cuando al
fin se durmio. Sin embargo, desperto por la noche: el fuego era ahora solo unas
pocas ascuas; los enanos y Gandalf respiraban tranquilos, y parecia que dormian;
la luna alta proyectaba en el suelo una luz blanquecina. que entraba por el agujero
del tejado. Se oyo un grunido fuera, y el ruido de un animal que se restregaba
contra la puerta. Bilbo se preguntaba que seria, y si podria ser Beorn en forma
encantada, y si entraria como un oso para matarlos. Se hundio bajo las mantas y
escondio la cabeza, y de nuevo se quedo dormido, aun a pesar de todos sus
miedos.

Era ya avanzada la manana cuando desperto. Uno de los enanos se habia caido
encima de el en las sombras, y habia rodado desde la plataforma al suelo con un
fuerte topetazo. Era Bofur, quien se quejaba cuando Bilbo abrio los ojos.

— Levantate, gandul — le dijo Bofur — , o no habra ningun desayuno para ti. — Bilbo
se puso en pie de un salto.

— i Desayuno! — grito — <j, Donde esta el desayuno?

— La mayor parte dentro de nosotros — respondieron los otros enanos que se
paseaban por la sala — , y el resto en la veranda. Hemos estado buscando a Beorn
desde que amanecio, pero no hay sehales de el por ninguna parte, aunque
encontramos el desayuno servido tan pronto como salimos.

— ^Donde esta Gandalf? — pregunto Bilbo partiendo a toda prisa en busca de algo
que comer.

— Bien — le dijeron — , fuera quiza, por algun lado.

— Pero Bilbo no vio rastro del mago en todo el dia hasta entrada la tarde. Poco
antes de la puesta del sol, Gandalf entro en la sala, donde el hobbit y los enanos,
atendidos por los magnificos animales de Beorn, se encontraban cenando, como
habian estado haciendo a lo largo del dia. De Beorn no habian visto ni sabido
nada desde la noche anterior, y empezaban a inquietarse.

— iDonde esta nuestro anfitrion, y donde has pasado el dia? — gritaron todos.

— jUna pregunta por vez, y no hasta despues de haber comido! No he probado
bocado desde el desayuno.

Al fin Gandalf aparto el plato y la jarra (se habia comido dos hogazas de pan
enteras, con abundancia de mantequilla, miel y crema cuajada, y habia bebido por
lo menos un cuarto de galon de hidromiel) y saco la pipa. — Primero respondere a
la segunda pregunta — dijo — : pero jcaramba! jEste es un sitio estupendo para
echar anillos de humo! — Y durante un buen rato no pudieron sacarle nada mas,
ocupado como estaba en lanzar anillos de humo, que desaparecian entre los
pilares de la sala, cambiando las formas y los colores, y haciendolos salir por el
agujero del tejado. Desde fuera estos anillos tenian que parecer muy extrahos,
deslizandose en el aire uno tras otro, verdes, azules, rojos, plateados, amarillos,
blancos, grandes, pequehos, los pequehos metiendose entre los grandes y



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formando asi figuras en forma de ocho, y perdiendose en la distancia como
bandadas de pajaros.

— Estuve siguiendo huellas de oso — dijo por fin — Una reunion regular de osos
tiene que haberse celebrado ahi fuera durante la noche. Pronto me di cuenta de
que las huellas no podia ser todas de Beorn; habia demasiadas, y de diferentes
tamahos. Me atreveria a decir que eran osos pequenos, osos grandes, osos
normales y enormes osos gigantes, todos danzando fuera, desde el anochecer
hasta casi el amanecer. Vinieron de todas direcciones, excepto del lado oeste,
mas alia del no, de las Montahas. Hacia alii solo iba un rastro de pisadas...
ninguna venia, todas se alejaban desde aqui. Las segui hasta la Carroca. Luego
desaparecieron en el no, que era demasiado profundo y caudaloso para intentar
cruzarlo. Es bastante facil, como recordareis, ir desde esta orilla hasta la Carroca
por el vado, pero al otro lado hay un precipicio donde el agua desciende en
remolinos. Tuve que andar millas antes de encontrar un lugar donde el no fuese
bastante ancho y poco profundo como para poder vadearlo y nadar, y despues
millas atras, otra vez buscando las huellas. Para cuando llegue, era ya demasiado
tarde para seguirlas. Iban directa mente hacia los pinares al este de las Montahas
Nubladas, donde anteanoche tuvimos un grato encuentro con los wargos. Y ahora
creo que he respondido ademas a vuestra primera pregunta — concluyo Gandalf, y
se sento largo rato en silencio.

Bilbo penso que sabia lo que el mago queria decir.

— ^Que haremos — grito — si atrae hasta aqui a todos los wargos y trasgos? jNos
atraparan a todos y nos mataran! Crei que habias dicho que no era amigo de
ellos.

— Si, lo dije, jY no seas estupido! Sena mejor que te fueses a la cama. Se te ha
embotado el juicio.

El hobbit se quedo bastante aplastado, y como no parecia haber otra cosa que
hacer, se fue realmente a la cama; mientras los enanos seguian cantando se
durmio otra vez, devanandose todavia la cabecita a proposito de Beorn, hasta que
soho con cientos de osos negros que danzaban en circulos lentos y graves, fuera
en el patio a la luz de la luna. Entonces desperto, cuando todo el mundo estaba
dormido, y oyo los mismos rasguhos, gangueos, pisadas y gruhidos de antes.

A la mahana siguiente, el propio Beorn los desperto a todos. — Asi que todavia
seguis aqui — dijo. Alzo al hobbit y se ho — . Por lo que veo aun no te han
devorado los wargos y los trasgos o los malvados osos — y apreto el dedo contra
el chaleco del sehor Bolson sin ninguna cortesia — . El conejito se esta poniendo
otra vez de lo mas relleno y saludable con la ayuda de pan y miel.

— Rio entre dientes. — jVen y toma algo mas!

Asi que todos se fueron a desayunar. Beorn parecia cambiado y bien dispuesto; y
en verdad estaba de muy buen humor e hizo que todos se rieran con sus
divertidas historias; no tuvieron que preguntarse por mucho tiempo donde habia
estado o por que era tan amable con ellos, pues el mismo lo explico. Habia ido al
otro lado del no adentrandose en las montahas — de lo cual podeis deducir que



84



podia trasladarse a gran velocidad, en forma de oso, desde luego — . Al fin Mega al
claro quemado de los lobos, y asi descubrio que esa parte de la historia era cierta;
pero aun encontro algo mas: habia capturado a un wargo y a un trasgo que
vagaban por el bosque, y les habia sacado algunas noticias: las patrullas de los
wargos buscaban aun a los enanos junto con los trasgos horriblemente enfadados
a causa de la muerte del Gran Trasgo, y porque le habian quema do la nariz al
jefe lobo y el fuego del mago habia dado muerte a muchos de los principales
sirvientes. Todo esto se lo dijeron cuando los obligo a hablar, pero adivino que se
tramaba algo todavia peor, y que el grueso del ejercito de los trasgos y los lobos
podia irrumpir pronto en las tierras ensombrecidas por las montahas, en busca de
los enanos, o tomar venganza sobre los hombres y criaturas que alii vivian y que
quiza estaban encubriendolos.

— Era una buena historia la vuestra — dijo Beorn — , pero ahora que se que es
cierta, me gusta todavia mas, Teneis que perdonarme por no haberos crefdo. Si
vivieseis cerca de los lindes del Bosque Negro, no creeriais a nadie que no
conocieseis tan bien como vuestro propio hermano, o mejor. Como veis solo
puedo deciros que me he dado prisa en regresar para ver si estabais a salvo y
ofreceros mi ayuda. Tendre en mejor opinion a los enanos despues de este
asunto. jDieron muerte al Gran Trasgo, dieron muerte al Gran Trasgo! — se ho
ferozmente entre dientes.

— «j,Que habeis hecho con el trasgo y con el wargo? — pregunto Bilbo de repente.

— jVenid y lo vereis! — dijo Beorn y dieron la vuelta a la casa. Una cabeza de
trasgo asomaba empalada detras de la cancela, y un poco mas alia se veia una
piel de wargo clavada en un arbol. Beorn era un enemigo feroz. Pero ahora era
amigo de ellos, y Gandalf creyo conveniente contarle la historia completa y la
razon del viaje, para obtener asi toda la ayuda posible.

Esto fue lo que Beorn les prometio. Les conseguiria poneys, para cada uno, y a
Gandalf un caballo, para el viaje hasta el bosque, y les daria comida suficiente
para varias semanas si la administraban con cuidado; y luego puso todo en
paquetes faciles de llevar: nueces, harina, tarros de frutos secos hermeticamente
cerrados y potes de barro rojo llenos de miel, y bizcochos horneados dos veces
para que se conservasen bien mucho tiempo; un poco de estos bizcochos bastaba
para una larga Jornada. La receta era uno de sus secretos, pero tenian miel, como
casi todas las comidas de Beorn, y un sabor agradable, aunque dejaban la boca
bastante seca. Dijo que necesitarian llevar agua por aquel lado del bosque, pues
habia arroyos y manantiales a todo lo largo del camino. — Pero el camino que
cruza el Bosque Negro es oscuro, peligroso y arduo — dijo — . No es facil encontrar
agua alia, ni comida. No es todavia tiempo de nueces (aunque en realidad quiza
ya haya pasado cuando llegueis al otro extremo), y las nueces son lo unico que se
puede comer en esos sitios; las cosas silvestres son alii oscuras, extrahas y
salvajes. Os dare odres para el agua, y algunos arcos y flechas. Pero no creo que
haya nada en el Bosque Negro que sea bueno para comer o beber. Se que hay un
arroyo, negro y caudaloso, que cruza el sendero. No bebais ni os baheis en el,
pues he oido decir que produce encantamientos, somnolencia y perdida de la
memoria. Y entre las tenebrosas sombras del lugar no me parece que podais



85



cazar algo que sea comestible o no comestible, sin extraviaros. Esto teneis que
evitarlo en cualquier circunstancia.

"No tengo otro consejo para vosotros. Mas alia del linde del bosque, no puedo
ayudaros mucho; tendreis que depender de la suerte, de vuestro valor y de la
comida que os doy. He de pediros que en la cancela de! bosque me mandeis de
vuelta al caballo y los poneys. Pero os deseo que podais marchar de prisa, y mi
casa estara abierta siempre para vosotros si alguna vez volveis por este camino.

Le dieron las gracias, por supuesto, con muchas reverencias y movimientos de los
capuchones, y con muchos; — A vuestro servicio, joh amo de los amplios salones
de madera! — Pero las graves palabras de Beorn los habian desanimado, y todos
sintieron que la aventura era mucho mas peligrosa de lo que habian pensado
antes, ya que de cualquier modo, aunque pasasen todos los peligros del camino,
el dragon estaria esperando al final.

Toda la mahana estuvieron ocupados con los preparativos. Poco antes del
mediodia comieron con Beorn por ultima vez, y despues del almuerzo montaron
en los caballos que el les presto, y despidiendose una y mil veces, cabalgaron a
buen trote dejando atras la cancela,

Tan pronto como se alejaron de los setos altos al este de las tierras cercadas, se
encaminaron al norte y luego al noroeste. Siguiendo el consejo de Beorn no
marcharon hacia el camino principal del bosque, al sur de aquellas tierras. Si
hubiesen ido por el desfiladero, una senda los habria llevado hasta un arroyo que
bajaba de las montahas y se unfa al Rio Grande, algunas millas al sur de la
Carroca. En ese lugar habia un vado profundo que podrian haber cruzado, si
hubiesen tenido los poneys, y mas alia otra senda llevaba a los bordes del bosque
y a la entrada del antiguo camino de la floresta. Pero Beorn les habia advertido
que aquel camino era ahora frecuentado por los trasgos, mientras que el
verdadero camino del bosque, segun habia oido decir, estaba cubierto de maleza
y abandonado por el extremo oriental, y llevaba ademas a pantanos
impenetrables, donde los senderos se habian perdido hacia tiempo. El paso por el
este siempre habia quedado demasiado al sur de la Montana Solitaria, y desde
alii, cuando alcanzaran el otro lado, les hubiera esperado aun una marcha larga y
dificultosa hacia el norte. Al norte de la Carroca, los lindes del Bosque Negro
estaban mas cerca de las orillas del Rio Grande, y aunque las montahas se
alzaban no muy lejos, Beorn les aconsejo tomar este camino, pues a unos pocos
dias de cabalgata al norte de la Carroca habia un sendero poco conocido que
atravesaba el Bosque Negro y llevaba casi directamente a la Montana Solitaria.

— Los trasgos — habia dicho Beorn — , no se atreveran a cruzar el Rio Grande en
unas cien millas al norte de la Carroca, ni tampoco a acercarse a mi casa; jesta
bien protegida por las noches! Pero yo cabalgaria de prisa, porque si ellos
emprenden esa aventura, pronto cruzaran el rio por el sur y recorreran todo el
linde del bosque con el fin de cortaros el paso, y los wargos corren mas que los
poneys. En verdad estariais a salvo yendo hacia el norte, aunque parezca que asi
volveis a las fortalezas; pues eso seria lo que ellos menos esperarian, y tendrian
que cabalgar mucho mas para alcanzaros. jPartid ahora tan rapido como podais!



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Eso era por lo que cabalgaban en silencio, galopando por donde el terreno estaba
cubierto de hierba y era llano, con las tenebrosas montanas a la izquierda, y a lo
lejos la linea del no con arboles cada vez mas proximos. El sol acababa de girar
hacia el oeste cuando partieron, y hasta el atardecer cayo en rayos dorados sobre
la tierra de alrededor. Era dificil pensar que unos trasgos los persegufan, y cuando
hubo muchas millas entre ellos y la casa de Beorn, se pusieron a charlar y a
cantar otra vez, y asi olvidaron el oscuro sendero del bosque que tenian delante.
Pero al atardecer, cuando cayeron las sombras y los picos de las montanas
resplandecieron a la luz del sol poniente, acamparon y montaron guardia, y la
mayoria durmio inquieta, con suenos en los que se oian aullidos de lobos que
cazaban y alaridos de trasgos.

Con todo, la manana siguiente amanecio otra vez clara y hermosa. Habia una
neblina blanca y otonal sobre el suelo, y el aire era helado, pero pronto el sol rojizo
se levanto por el este y las neblinas desaparecio ron, y cuando las sombras eran
todavia largas, reemprendieron la marcha. Asi que cabalgaron durante dos dias
mas, y en todo este tiempo no vieron nada excepto hierba, flores, pajaros, y
arboles diseminados, y de vez en cuando pequehas manadas de venados rojos
que pacian o estaban echados a la sombra. Alguna vez Bilbo vio cuernos de
ciervos que asomaban por entre la larga hierba, y al principio creyo que eran
ramas de arboles muertas. En la tercera tarde estaban decididos a marchar
durante horas, pues Beorn les habia dicho que tenian que alcanzar la entrada del
bosque temprano al cuarto dia, y cabalgaron bastante tiempo despues del
anochecer, bajo la luna. Cuando la luz iba desvaneciendose, Bilbo penso que a lo
lejos, a la derecha o a la izquierda, veia la ensombrecida figura de un gran oso
que marchaba en la misma direccion. Pero si se atrevia a mencionarselo a
Gandalf, el mago solo decia: — jSilencio! Haz como si no lo vieses.

Al dia siguiente partieron antes del amanecer, aunque la noche habia sido corta.
Tan pronto como se hizo de dia pudieron ver el bosque, y parecia que viniese a
reunirse con ellos, o que los esperara como un muro negro y amenazador. El
terreno empezo a ascender, y el hobbit se dijo que un silencio distinto pesaba
ahora sobre ellos. Los pajaros apenas cantaban. No habia venados, ni siquiera los
conejos se dejaban ver. Por la tarde habian alcanzado los limites del Bosque
Negro, y descansaron casi bajo las ramas enormes que colgaban de los primeros
arboles. Los troncos eran nudosos, las ramas retorcidas, las hojas oscuras y
largas. La hiedra crecia sobre ellos y se arrastraba por el suelo.

— jBien, aqui tenemos el Bosque Negro! — dijo Gandalf — . El bosque mas grande
del mundo septentrional.

Espero que os agrade. Ahora teneis que enviar de vuelta estos poneys excelentes
que os han prestado.

Los enanos quisieron quejarse, pero el mago les dijo que eran unos tontos. —
Beorn no esta tan lejos como vosotros pensais, y de cualquier modo sera mucho
mejor que mantengais vuestras promesas, pues el es un mal enemigo. Los ojos
del sehor Bolson son mas penetrantes que los vuestros, si no habeis visto de
noche en la oscuridad un gran oso que caminaba a la par con nosotros, o se



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sentaba lejos a la luz de la luna, observando nuestro campamento. No solo para
guiaros y protegeros, sino tambien para vigilar los poneys. Beorn puede ser amigo
vuestro, pero ama a sus animales como si fueran sus propios hijos. No teneis idea
de la amabilidad que ha demostrado permitiendo que unos enanos los monten,
sobre todo en un trayecto tan largo y fatigoso, ni de lo que sucederia si intentaseis
meterlos en el bosque.

— lY que hay del caballo? — dijo Thorin — . No dices nada sobre devolverlo.

— No digo nada porque no voy a devolverlo.

— lY que pasa con tu promesa?

— Dejala de mi cuenta. No devolvere el caballo, cabalgare en el. — Entonces
supieron que Gandalf iba a dejarlos en los mismisimos lindes del Bosque Negro, y
se sintieron desesperados, Pero nada de lo que dijesen lo haria cambiar de idea.

— Todo esto lo hemos tratado ya antes, cuando hicimos un alto en la Carroca —
dijo — . No vale la pena discutir. Como ya he dicho, tengo un asunto que resolver,
lejos al sur; y no puedo perder tiempo con todos vosotros. Quiza volvamos a
encontrarnos antes de que esto se acabe, y puede que no. Eso solo depende de
vuestra suerte, coraje, y buen juicio; envio al sehor Bolson con vosotros, ya os he
dicho que vale mas de lo que creeis y pronto tendreis la prueba. De modo que
alegra esa cara, Bilbo, y no te muestres tan taciturno. jAlegraos Thorin y
compahia! Al fin y al cabo, es vuestra expedition. jPensad en el tesoro que os
espera al final, y olvidaos del bosque y del dragon, por lo menos hasta mahana
por la mahana!

Cuando el mahana por la mahana llego, Gandalf seguia diciendo lo mismo. Asi
que ahora nada quedaba por hacer excepto llenar los odres en un arroyo claro que
encontraron a la entrada del bosque, y descargar los poneys. Distribuyeron los
bultos con la mayor equidad posible, aunque Bilbo penso que su lote era
demasiado pesado, y no le hacia ninguna gracia la idea de recorrer a pie millas y
millas con todo aquello a sus espaldas.

— jNo te preocupes! — le dijo Thorin — . Todo se aligerara muy pronto. Antes de
que nos demos cuenta, estaremos deseando que nuestros fardos sean mas
pesados, cuando la comida empiece a escasear.

Entonces por fin dijeron adios a los poneys y les pusieron las cabezas apuntando
a la casa de Beorn. Los animales se marcharon trotando, y parecian muy
contentos de volver las colas hacia las sombras del Bosque Negro. Mientras se
alejaban, Bilbo hubiera jurado haber visto algo parecido a un oso que salia de
entre las sombras de los arboles e iba tras ellos arrastrando los pies.

Gandalf se despidio tambien. Bilbo se sento en el suelo sintiendose muy
desgraciado y deseando quedarse con el mago, montado a la grupa de la alta
cabalgadura. Acababa de adentrarse en el bosque justo despues del desayuno
(por cierto bastante frugal), y todo estaba alii tan oscuro en plena mahana como
durante la noche, y muy en secreto se dijo a si mismo: "Parece como si algo
esperara y vigilara".



88



— Adios — dijo Gandalf a Thorin — jY adios a todos vosotros, adios! Ahora seguid
todo recto a traves del bosque. jNo abandoneis el sendero! Si lo haceis, hay una
posibilidad entre mil de que volvais a encontrarlo, y nunca saldreis del Bosque
Negro, y entonces es seguro que ni yo ni nadie volvera a veros jamas.

— ^Pero es realmente necesario que lo atravesemos?

— gimoteo el hobbit.

— jSi, asi es! — dijo el mago — Si quereis llegar al otro lado. Teneis que cruzarlo o
abandonar toda busqueda. Y no permitire que retrocedas ahora, sehor Bolson. Me
averguenza que se te haya ocurrido. Eres tu quien desde ahora tendra que cuidar
a estos enanos en mi lugar. — Gandalf rio.

— jNo! jNo! — dijo Bilbo — Yo no queria decir eso. Pregunto si no hay algun otro
camino bordeandolo.

— Hay, si lo que deseas es desviarte doscientas millas o mas al norte, y
cuatrocientas al sur. Pero ni siquiera entonces encontrarias un sendero seguro. No
hay senderos seguros en esta parte del mundo. Recuerda que estas ahora en las
fronteras de las tierras salvajes, expuesto a todo, donde quiera que vayas. Antes
de que pudieras bordear el Bosque Negro por el norte, te encontrarias justo entre
las laderas de las Montanas Grises, plagadas de trasgos, bobotrasgos y orcos de
la peor especie. Antes que pudieras bordearlo por el sur, te encontrarias en el pais
del Nigromante; y ni siquiera tu, Bilbo, necesitas que te cuente historias del
hechicero negro. jNo os aconsejo que os acerqueis a los lugares dominados por
esa torre sombria! Manteneos en el sendero del bosque, conservad vuestro
animo, esperad siempre lo mejor y con una tremenda porcion de suerte puede que
un dia salgais y encontreis los Pantanos Largos justo debajo; y mas alia,
elevandose en el este, la Montana Solitaria donde habita el querido viejo Smaug,
aunque confio que no os este esperando.

— Muy consolador de tu parte, puedes estar seguro — gruho Thorin — . jAdios! jSi
no vienes con nosotros es mejor que te largues sin una palabra mas!

— jAdios entonces, esta vez de verdad adios! — dijo Gandalf, y dando media
vuelta, cabalgo hacia el oeste.

Pero no pudo resistir la tentacion de ser el ultimo en decir algo, y cuando aun
podian oirlo, se volvio y llamo poniendo las manos a los lados de la boca. Oyeron
la voz debilmente: — jAdios! Sed buenos, cuidaros, jy no abandoneis el sendero!

Luego se alejo al galope y pronto se perdio en la distancia. — jOh, adios y vete de
una vez! — farfullaron los enanos, todos de lo mas enfadados, realmente
abrumados de consternacion. Ahora empezaba la parte mas peligrosa del viaje.
Cada uno cargaba con un fardo pesado y el odre de agua que le correspondia, y
dejando detras la luz que se extendia sobre los campos, penetraron en la floresta.

MOSCAS Y ARANAS



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Caminaban en fila. La entrada del sendero era una suerte de arco que llevaba a
un tunel lobrego formado por dos arboles inclinados, demasiado viejos y ahogados
por la hiedra y los liquenes colgantes para tener mas que unas pocas hojas
ennegrecidas. El sendero mismo era estrecho y serpenteaba por entre los troncos.
Pronto la luz de la entrada fue un pequeno agujero brillante alia atras, y en el
silencio profundo los pies parecian golpear pesadamente mientras todos los
arboles se doblaban sobre ellos y escuchaban.

Cuando se acostumbraron a la oscuridad, pudieron ver un poco a los lados, a una
tremula luz de color verde oscuro. En ocasiones, un rayo de sol que alcanzaba a
deslizarse por una abertura entre las hojas de alia arriba, y escapar a los
enmarahados arbustos y ramas entretejidas de abajo, caia tenue y brillante ante
ellos. Pero esto ocurria raras veces, y ceso pronto.

Habia ardillas negras en el bosque. Los ojos penetrantes e inquisitivos de Bilbo
empezaron a vislumbrar las fugazmente mientras cruzaban rapidas el sendero y
se escabullian escondiendose detras de los arboles. Habia tambien extranos
ruidos, grunidos, susurros, correteos en la maleza y entre las hojas que se
amontonaban en algunos sitios del bosque; pero no conseguian ver que Causaba
estos ruidos. Entre las cosas visibles lo mas horrible eran las telarahas: espesas
telarahas oscuras, con hilos extraordinariamente gruesos; tendidas casi siempre
de arbol a arbol, o enmarahadas en las ramas mas bajas, a los lados. No habia
ninguna que cruzara el sendero, y no pudieron adivinar si esto era por
encantamiento o por alguna otra razon.

No transcurrio mucho tiempo antes que empezaran a odiar el bosque tanto como
habian odiado los tuneles de los trasgos, e incluso tenian menos esperanzas de
llegar a la salida. Pero no habia otro remedio que seguir y seguir, aun despues de
sentir que no podrian dar un paso mas si no veian el sol y el cielo, y de desear que
el viento les soplara en las caras. El aire no se movia bajo el techo del bosque,
eternamente quieto, sofocante y oscuro. Hasta los mismos enanos lo sentian asi,
ellos que estaban acostumbrados a excavar tuneles y a pasar largas temporadas
apartados de la luz del sol; pero el hobbit, a quien le gustaban los agujeros para
hacer casas, y no para pasar los dias de verano, sentia que se asfixiaba poco a
poco.

Las noches eran lo peor: entonces se ponia oscuro como el carbon, no lo que
vosotros llamais negro carbon, sino realmente oscuro, tan negro que de verdad no
se podia ver nada. Bilbo movia la mano delante de la nariz, intentando en vano
distinguir algo. Bueno, quiza no es totalmente cierto decir que no veian nada;
veian ojos. Dormian todos muy juntos, y se turnaban en la vigilia; cuando le tocaba
a Bilbo, veia destellos alrededor, y a veces, pares de ojos verdes, rojos o amarillos
se clavaban en el desde muy cerca, y luego se desvanecian y desaparecian
lentamente, y empezaban a brillar en otra parte. De vez en cuando destellaban en
las ramas bajas que estaban justamente sobre el, y eso era lo mas terrorifico.
Pero los ojos que menos le agradaban eran unos que parecian palidos y bulbosos.
"Ojos de insecto" pensaba, "no ojos de animales, pero demasiado grandes."



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Aunque no hacia aun mucho frfo, trataron de encender unos fuegos pero
desistieron pronto. Parecian atraer cientos y cientos de ojos alrededor; pero esas
criaturas, fuesen las que fuesen, tenian cuidado de no mostrar sus cuerpos a la
luz tremula de las brasas. Peor aun, atraian a miles y miles de falenas grises
oscuras y negras, algunas casi tan grandes como vuestras manos, que
revoloteaban y les zumbaban en los ofdos. No fueron capaces de soportarlo, ni a
los grandes murcielagos, negros como sombreros de copa; asi que pronto dejaron
de encender fuegos y dormitaban envueltos en una enorme y extrana oscuridad.

Todo esto duro lo que al hobbit parecieron siglos y siglos; siempre tenia hambre,
pues cuidaban sobremanera las provisiones. Aun asi, a medida que los dias
seguian a los dias y el bosque parecia siempre el mismo, empezaron a sentirse
ansiosos. La comida no duraria siempre: de hecho, empezaba a escasear.
Intentaron cazar alguna ardilla, y desperdiciaron muchas flechas antes de derribar
una en el sendero. Cuando la asaron, tenia un gusto horrible, y no cazaron mas.

Estaban sedientos tambien; ninguno llevaba mucha agua, y en todo el trayecto no
habian visto manantiales ni arroyos. Asi estaban cuando un dia descubrieron que
una corriente de agua interrumpia el sendero. Rapida y alborotada, pero no
demasiado ancha, fluia cruzando el camino; y era negra, o asi parecia en la
oscuridad. Fue bueno que Beorn les hubiese prevenido contra ella, o hubieran
bebido y llenado alguno de los odres vacios en la orilla, sin preocuparse por el
color. Asi que solo pensaron en como atravesarla sin mojarse. Alii habia habido un
puente de madera, pero se habia podrido con el tiempo y habia caido al agua
dejando solo los postes quebrados cerca de la orilla.

Bilbo, arrodillandose en la ribera, miro adelante con atencion y grito: — jHay un
bote en la otra orilla' <j,Por que no pudo haber estado aqui?

— <j,A que distancia crees que esta? — pregunto Thorin, pues por entonces ya
sabian que entre todos ellos Bilbo tenia la vista mas penetrante.

— No muy lejos. No me parece que mucho mas de doce yardas.

— jDoce yardas! Yo hubiera pensado que eran treinta por lo menos, pero mis ojos
ya no ven tan bien como hace cien ahos. Aun asi, doce yardas es tanto como una
milla. No podemos saltar por encima del no y no nos atrevemos a vadearlo o
nadar.

— ^Alguno de vosotros puede lanzar una cuerda?

— lY de que serviria? Seguro que el bote esta atado, aun contando con que
pudieramos engancharlo, cosa que dudo.

— No creo que este atado — dijo Bilbo — . Aunque, naturalmente, con esta luz no
puedo estar seguro; pero me parece como si solo estuviese varado en la orilla,
que es bastante baja ahi donde el sendero se mete en el no.

— Dori es el mas fuerte, pero Fili es el mas joven y tiene mejor vista — dijo
Thorin — . Ven aca, Fili, y mira si puedes ver el bote de que habia el sehor Bolson.

Fili creyo verlo; asi que luego de mirar un largo rato para tener una idea de la
direccion, los otros le trajeron una cuerda. Llevaban muchas con ellos, y en el



91



extremo de la mas larga ataron uno de los ganchos de hierro que usaban para
sujetar las mochilas a las correas de los hombros. Fili lo tomo, lo balanced un
momento, y lo arrojo por encima de la corriente.

Cayo salpicando en el agua. — jNo lo bastante lejos!

— dijo Bilbo, que observaba la otra orilla — . Un par de pies mas y hubieras
alcanzado el bote. Intentalo otra vez. No creo que el encantamiento sea tan
poderoso para hacerte dano si tocas un trozo de cuerda mojada.

Recogieron el gancho y Fili lo alzo en el aire, aunque dudando aun. Esta vez tiro
con mas fuerza.

— jCalma! — dijo Bilbo — . Lo has metido entre los arboles del otro lado. Retiralo
lentamente. — Fili retiro la cuerda poco a poco, y un momento despues Bilbo dijo:

— jCuidado!, ahora estas sobre el bote; esperemos que el hierro se enganche.

Y se engancho. La cuerda se puso tensa y Fili tiro en vano. Kili fue en su ayuda, y
despues 6in y Gloin. Tiraron, y de pronto cayeron todos de espaldas. Bilbo que
estaba atento alcanzo a tomar la cuerda y con un trozo de palo retuvo al pequeho
bote negro que se acercaba arrastrado por la corriente. — jSocorro! — grito, y Balin
aferro el bote antes de que se deslizase aguas abajo.

— Estaba atado, despues de todo — dijo, mirando la amarra rota que aun colgaba
del bote — . Fue un buen tiron, muchachos; y suerte que nuestra cuerda era la mas
resistente.

— ^Quien cruzara primero? — pregunto Bilbo.

— Yo — dijo Thorin — , y tu vendras conmigo, y Fili y Balin. No cabemos mas en el
bote. Luego, Kili, 6in, Gloin y Dori. Seguiran Oh y Nori, Bifur y Bofur, y por ultimo
Dwalin y Bombur.

— Soy siempre el ultimo, y no me gusta — dijo Bombur — . Hoy le toca a otro.

— No tendrias que estar tan gordo. Tal como eres, tienes que cruzar el ultimo y
con la carga mas ligera. No empieces a quejarte de las ordenes, o lo pasaras mal.

— No hay remos. ^Como impulsaremos el bote hasta la otra orilla? — pregunto
Bilbo.

— Dadme otro trozo de cuerda y otro gancho — dijo Fili, y cuando se los trajeron,
arrojo el gancho hacia la oscuridad, tan alto como pudo. Como no cayo,
supusieron que se habia enganchado en las ramas — . Ahora subid — dijo Fili — .
Que uno de vosotros tire de la cuerda sujeta al arbol. Otro tendra que sujetar el
gancho que utilizamos al principio, y cuando estemos seguros en la Otra orilla,
puede engancharlo y traer el bote de vuelta.

De este modo pronto estuvieron todos a salvo en la orilla opuesta, al borde del
arroyo encantado. Dwalin acababa de salir aprisa, con la cuerda enrollada en el
brazo, y Bombur (refunfuhando aun) se aprestaba a seguirlo cuando algo malo
ocurrio. Sendero adelante hubo un ruido como de pezuhas raudas. De repente, de
la lobreguez, salio un ciervo volador. Cargo sobre los enanos y los derribo, y en
seguida se encogio para



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saltar. Paso por encima del agua con un poderoso brinco, pero no llego indemne a
la orilla. Thorin habia sido el unico que aun se mantenia en pie y alerta. Tan pronto
como llegaron a tierra habia preparado el arco y habia puesto una flecha, por si de
pronto aparecia el guardian del bote. Disparo rapido contra la bestia, que se
derrumbo al llegar a la otra orilla. Las sombras la devoraron, pero oyeron un
sonido entrecortado de pezunas que al fin se extinguio.

Antes que pudieran alabar este tiro certero, un horrible gemido de Bilbo hizo que
todos olvidaran la carne de venado. — jBombur ha caido! jBombur se ahoga! —
grito. No era mas que la verdad. Bombur solo tenia un pie en tierra cuando el
ciervo se adelanto y salto sobre el. Habia tropezado, impulsando el bote hacia
atras y perdiendo el equilibrio, y las manos le resbalaron por las raices limosas de
la orilla, mientras el bote desaparecia girando lentamente.

Aun alcanzaron a ver el capuchon de Bombur sobre el agua, cuando llegaron
corriendo a la orilla. Le echaron rapidamente una cuerda con un gancho. La mano
de Bombur aferro la cuerda y los Otros tiraron. Por supuesto, el enano estaba
empapado de pies a cabeza, pero eso no era lo peor. Cuando lo depositaron en
tierra seca ya estaba profundamente dormido, la mano tan apretada a la cuerda
que no la pudieron soltar; y profundamente dormido quedo, a pesar de todo lo que
le hicieron.

Aun estaban de pie y mirandolo, maldiciendo el desgraciado incidente y la torpeza
de Bombur, lamentando la perdida del bote, que les impedia volver y buscar el
ciervo, cuando advirtieron un debil sonido: como de trompas y de perros que
ladrasen lejos en el bosque.

Todos se quedaron en silencio, y cuando se sentaron les parecio que oian el
estrepito de una gran caceria al norte del sendero, aunque no vieron nada.

Estuvieron sentados durante largo rato, no atreviendose a moverse. Bombur
seguia durmiendo con una sonrisa en la cara redonda, como si todos aquellos
problemas ya no le preocuparan. De repente, sendero adelante, aparecieron unos
ciervos blancos, un cervato y unas ciervas, tan niveos como oscuro habia sido el
ciervo anterior. Refulgian en las sombras. Antes de que Thorin pudiera decir nada,
tres de los enanos se habian puesto en pie de un brinco y habian disparado las
flechas. Ninguna parecio dar en el bianco. Los ciervos se volvieron y
desaparecieron entre los arboles tan en silencio como habian venido y los enanos
dispararon en vano otras flechas.

— jDeteneos! jDeteneos! — grito Thorin, pero demasiado tarde; los excitados
enanos habian desperdiciado las ultimas flechas, y ahora los arcos que Beorn les
habia dado eran inutiles.

Esa noche fueron una triste partida, y esta tristeza peso aun mas sobre ellos en
los dias siguientes. Habian cruzado el arroyo encantado, pero mas alia el sendero
parecia serpear igual que antes, y en el bosque no advirtieron cambio alguno. Si
solo hubiesen sabido un poco mas de el, y hubiesen considerado el significado de
la caceria y del ciervo bianco que se les habia aparecido en el camino, hubieran
podido reconocer que iban al fin hacia el linde este, y que si hubiesen conservado



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el valor y las esperanzas, pronto habrian llegado a sitios donde la luz del sol
brillaba de nuevo y los arboles eran mas ralos.

Pero no lo sabfan, y estaban cargados con el pesado cuerpo de Bombur, al que
transportaban como mejor podfan, turnandose de cuatro en cuatro en la fatigosa
tarea, mientras los demas se repartian los bultos. Si estos no se hubieran
aligerado en las ultimas jornadas, nunca lo hubieran conseguido, pero el sonriente
y sonador Bombur era un pobre sustituto de las mochilas cargadas de comida,
pesasen lo que pesasen. Pocos dias mas y no les quedo practicamente nada que
comer o beber. Nada apetitoso parecia crecer en el bosque; solo hongos y hierbas
de hojas palidas y olor desagradable.

Cuatro dias despues del arroyo encantado, llegaron a un sitio del bosque poblado
de hayas. En un primer momento les alegro el cambio, pues aqui no crecian
malezas y las sombras no eran tan profundas. Habia una luz verdosa a ambos
lados del sendero, pero el resplandor solo revelaba unas hileras interminables de
troncos rectos y grises, como pilares de un vasto salon crepuscular. Habia un
soplo de aire y se oia un viento, pero el sonido era triste. Unas hojas secas
cayeron recordandoles que fuera llegaba el otoho. Arrastraban los pies por entre
las hojas muertas de otros otohos incontables, que en montones llegaban al
sendero desde la alfombra granate del bosque.

Bombur dormia aun, y ellos estaban muy cansados. A veces oian una risa
inquietante, y a veces tambien un Canto a lo lejos. La risa era risa de voces
armoniosas, no de trasgos, y el canto era hermoso, pero sonaba misterioso y
extraho, y en vez de sentirse reconfortados, se dieron prisa por dejar aquellos
parajes con las fuerzas que les restaban.

Dos dias mas tarde descubrieron que el sendero descendia, y antes de mucho
tiempo salieron a un valle en el que crecian unos grandes robles.

— ^Es que nunca ha de terminar este bosque maldito? — dijo Thorin — Alguien
tiene que trepar a un arbol y ver si puede sacar la cabeza por el tejado y echar un
vistazo alrededor. Hay que escoger el arbol mas alto que se incline sobre el
sendero.

Por supuesto, "alguien" queria decir Bilbo. Lo eligieron porque para que el intento
sirviera de algo, quien trepase necesitaria sacar la cabeza por entre las hojas mas
altas, y por tanto tenia que ser liviano para que las ramas delgadas pudieran
sostenerlo. El pobre sehor Bolson nunca habia tenido mucha practica en trepar a
las arboles, pero los otros lo alzaron hasta las ramas mas bajas de un roble
enorme que crecia justo al lado del sendero y alia tuvo que subir, lo mejor que
pudo; se abrio camino por entre las pequehas ramas enmarahadas, con mas de
un golpe en los ojos. Se mancho de verde y se ensucio con la corteza vieja de las
ramas mas grandes; mas de una vez resbalo y consiguio

sostenerse en el ultimo momento; por fin, tras un terrible esfuerzo en un sitio dificil,
donde no parecia haber ninguna rama adecuada, llego cerca de la cima. Todo el
tiempo se estuvo preguntando si habria arahas en el arbol, y como iba a bajar
(excepto cayendo).



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Al fin saco la cabeza por encima del techo de hojas, y en efecto, encontro aranas.
Pero eran pequenas, de tamano corriente, y solo les interesaban las mariposas.
Los ojos de Bilbo casi se enceguecieron con la luz. Oia a los enanos que le
gritaban desde abajo, pero no podia responderles, solo aferrarse a las ramas y
parpadear. El sol brillaba resplandeciente y paso largo rato antes que pudiera
soportarlo. Cuando lo consiguio, vio a su alrededor un mar verde oscuro, rizado
aqui y alia por la brisa; y por todas partes, cientos de mariposas. Supongo que
eran una especie de "emperador purpura", una mariposa aficionada a las alturas
de las robledas, pero no eran nada purpureas, sino muy oscuras, de un negro
aterciopelado, sin que se les pudiese ver ninguna marca.

Observo a la "emperador negra" durante largo rato, y disfruto sintiendo la brisa en
el cabello y la cara, pero los gritos de los enanos, que ahora estaban impacientes
y pateaban el suelo alia abajo, le recordaron al fin a que habia venido. De nada le
sirvio. Miro con atencion alrededor, tanto como pudo, y no vio que los arboles o las
hojas terminasen en alguna parte. El corazon, que se le habia aligerado viendo el
sol y sintiendo el soplo del viento, le pesaba en el pecho; no habia comida que
llevar alia abajo.

Realmente, como os he dicho, no estaban muy lejos del linde del bosque; y si
Bilbo hubiera sido mas perspicaz habria entendido que el arbol al que habia
trepado, aunque alto, estaba casi en lo mas hondo de un valle extenso; mirando
desde la copa, los otros arboles parecian crecer todo alrededor, como los bordes
de un gran tazon, y Bilbo no podia ver hasta donde se extendia el bosque. Sin
embargo, no se dio cuenta de esto, y descendio al fin desesperado, cubierto de
arahazos, sofocado, y miserable, y no vio nada en la oscuridad de abajo, cuando
llego alii. Las malas nuevas pronto pusieron a los otros tan tristes como el.

— jEl bosque sigue, sigue y sigue en todas direcciones! <j,Que haremos? <j,Y que
sentido tiene enviar a un hobbit? — gritaban como si Bilbo fuese el culpable. Les
importaban un rabano las mariposas, y cuando les hablo de la hermosa brisa se
enfadaron mas aun, pues eran demasiado pesados para trepar y sentirla.

Aquella noche tomaron las ultimas sobras y migajas de comida, y cuando a la
mahana siguiente despertaron, advirtieron ante todo que estaban rabiosamente
hambrientos, y luego que llovia, y que las gotas caian pesadamente aqui y alia
sobre el suelo del bosque. Eso solo les recordo que tambien estaban muertos de
sed, y que la lluvia no los aliviaba: no se puede apagar una sed terrible solo
quedandote al pie de unos robles gigantescos, esperando a que una gota
ocasional te caiga en la lengua. La unica pizca de consuelo llego,
inesperadamente, de Bombur.

Bombur desperto de subito y se sento rascandose la cabeza. No habia modo de
que pudiera entender donde estaba ni por que tenia tanta hambre. Habia olvidado
todo lo que ocurriera desde el principio del viaje, aquella mahana de mayo, hacia
tanto tiempo. Lo ultimo que recordaba era la tertulia en la casa del hobbit, y fue
dificil convencerlo de la verdad de las muchas aventuras que habian tenido desde
entonces.



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Cuando oyo que no habia nada que comer, se sento y se echo a llorar; se sentia
muy debil y le temblaban las piernas.

— ^Por que habre despertado? — sollozaba — . Tenia unos suehos tan
maravillosos. Sone que caminaba por un bosque bastante parecido a este,
alumbrado solo por antorchas en los arboles, lamparas que se balanceaban en las
ramas, y hogueras en el suelo; y se celebraba una. gran fiesta, que no terminaria
nunca. Un rey del bosque estaba alii coronado de hojas; y se oian alegres
canciones, y no podria contar o describir todo lo que habia para comer y beber.

— Y no tienes por que intentarlo — dijo Thorin — . En verdad, si no puedes hablar de
otra cosa, mejor te callas. Ya estamos bastante molestos contigo por lo que paso.
Si no hubieras despertado, te habriamos dejado en el bosque con tus suehos
idiotas; no es ninguna broma andar cargando contigo ni aun despues de semanas
de escasez.

No podian hacer otra cosa que apretarse los cinturones sobre los estomagos
vacios, cargar con los sacos y mochilas tambien vacios, y marchar sin descanso
camino adelante, sin muchas esperanzas de llegar al final antes de caer y morir de
inanicion. Esto fue lo que hicieron todo ese dia, avanzando cansada y lentamen te,
mientras Bombur seguia quejandose de que las piernas no podian sostenerlo y
que queria echarse y dormir.

— No, no lo haras — decian — . Que tus piernas cumplan la parte que les toca;
nosotros ya te hemos cargado bastante tiempo.

A pesar de todo, Bombur se nego de pronto a dar un paso mas y se dejo caer en
el suelo. — Seguid si es vuestro deber — dijo — , yo me echare aqui a dormir y a
sonar con comida, ya que no puedo tenerla de otro modo. Espero no despertar
nunca mas.

En ese momento, Balin, que iba un poco mas adelante, grito: — «j,Que es eso? Crei
ver un destello de luz entre los arboles.

Todos miraron, y parecia que alia a lo lejos se veia un parpadeo rojizo en la
oscuridad, y despues otro y otro a un lado. Hasta Bombur mismo se puso de pie, y
luego todos caminaron de prisa, sin detenerse a pensar si las luces serian de
ogros o de trasgos. La luz brillaba delante de ellos y a la izquierda, y al fin fue
evidente que unas antorchas y hogueras ardian bajo los arboles, pero a buena
distancia del sendero.

— Parece como si mis suehos se hiciesen realidad — dijo Bombur desde atras con
voz entrecortada, y quiso correr directamente bosque adentro hacia las luces.
Pero los Otros recordaban demasiado bien las advertencias de Beorn y el mago.

— Un banquete no servira de nada si no salimos vivos — dijo Thorin.

— Pero de cualquier modo, sin un banquete no seguiremos vivos mucho tiempo —
dijo Bombur, y Bilbo asintio de todo corazon. Lo discutieron largo rato del derecho
y del reves, hasta que por fin convinieron en mandar un par de espias, para que
se acercaran arrastrandose a las luces y averiguaran mas sobre ellas. Pero luego,
cuando se preguntaron a quien enviarian, no pudieron ponerse de acuerdo: nadie



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parecia tener ganas de extraviarse y no encontrar mas a sus amigos. Por ultimo, y
a pesar de las advertencias, el hambre los decidio, ya que Bombur continuo
describiendo todas las buenas cosas que se estaban comiendo en el banquete del
bosque, de acuerdo con lo que el habia sonado, de (nodo que dejaron la senda y
juntos se precipitaron bosque adentro.

Luego de mucho arrastrarse y gatear miraron escondidos detras de unos troncos y
vieron un claro con algunos arboles caidos y un terreno llano. Habia mucha gente
alii, de aspecto elfico, vestidos todos de castano y verde y sentados en circulo
sobre cepos de arboles talados. Una hoguera ardia en el centro y habia antorchas
encendidas sujetas a los arboles de alrededor; pero la vision mas esplendida era
la gente que comia, bebia y reia alborozada.

El olor de las carnes asadas era tan atractivo que sin consultarse entre ellos todos
se pusieron de pie y corrieron hacia el circulo con la unica idea de pedir un poco
de comida. Tan pronto como el primero dio un paso dentro del claro, todas las
luces se apagaron como por arte de magia. Alguien pisoteo la hoguera que
desaparecio en cohetes de chispas rutilantes. Estaban perdidos ahora en la
oscuridad mas negra, y ni siquiera consiguieron agruparse, al menos durante un
buen rato. Por fin, luego de haber corrido frenetica mente a ciegas, golpeando con
estrepito los arboles, tropezando en los troncos caidos, gritando y llamando hasta
haber despertado sin duda a todo el bosque en millas a la redonda, consiguieron
juntarse en monton y se contaron unos a otros. Por supuesto, en ese entonces
habian olvidado por completo en que direccion quedaba el sendero, y estaban
irremisiblemente extraviados, por lo menos hasta la mahana.

No podian hacer otra cosa que instalarse para pasar la noche alii donde estaban;
ni siquiera se atrevieron a buscar en el suelo unos restos de comida por temor a
separarse otra vez. Pero no llevaban mucho tiempo echados, y Bilbo solo estaba
adormecido, cuando Dori, a quien le habia tocado el primer turno de guardia, dijo
con un fuerte susurro:

— Las luces aparecen de nuevo alia, y ahora sea mas numerosas.

Todos se incorporaron de un salto. Alia, sin ninguna duda, parpadeaban no muy
lejos unas luces y se oian claramente voces y risas. Se arrastraron hacia ellas, en
fila, cada uno tocando la espalda del que iba delante. Cuando se acercaron,
Thorin dijo: — jQue nadie se apresure ahora! jQue ninguno se deje ver hasta que
yo lo diga! Enviare primero al sehor Bolson para que les hable. No tos asustara. —
"<j,Y que me pasara a mi?" penso Bilbo — . Y de todos modos, no creo que le hagan
nada malo.

Cuando llegaron al borde del circulo de luz, empujaron de repente a Bilbo por
detras. Antes que tuviera tiempo de ponerse el anillo, Bilbo avanzo tambaleandose
a la luz del fuego y las antorchas. De nada sirvio, Otra vez se apagaron las luces y
cayo la oscuridad.

Si habia sido dificil reunirse antes, ahora fue mucho peor. Y no podian dar con el
hobbit. Todas las veces que contaron, eran siempre trece. Gritaron y llamaron:

— jBilbo Bolson! jHobbit!jTu,maldito hobbit! jEh, hobbit malhadado^Donde estas?



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Iban a abandonar toda esperanza cuando Dori dio con el por casualidad. Cayo
sobre lo que creyo un tronco y se encontro con que era el hobbit acurrucado y
profundamente dormido. Despues de mucho zarandearlo, consiguieron que
despertase, y Bilbo no parecio muy contento.

— Tenia un sueno tan maravilloso — gruno — , todos participando de la mas
esplendida cena.

— jCielos!, esta como Bombur — dijeron — . No nos hables de cenas. Las cenas
sonadas de nada sirven y no podemos compartirlas.

— No hay nada mejor a mi alcance en este desagradable lugar — murmuro Bilbo,
mientras se echaba otra vez al lado de los enanos e intentaba volver a dormir y
tener de nuevo aquel sueno.

Pero no fue la ultima vez que vieron luces en el bosque. Mas tarde, cuando ya la
noche tenia que haber envejecido, Kili, que estaba entonces de guardia, vino y los
desperto a todos.

— Ha aparecido un gran resplandor, no muy lejos — dijo — . Cientos de antorchas y
muchas hogueras han sido encendidas de repente y por arte de magia. jEscuchad
el canto y las arpas!

Luego de quedarse un rato echados y escuchando, descubrieron que no podian
resistir el deseo de acercarse y tratar, una vez mas, de conseguir ayuda. Todos se
incorporaron, y esta vez el resultado fue desastroso. El banquete que vieron
entonces era mas grande y magnifico que antes: a la cabecera de una larga hilera
de comensales estaba sentado un rey del bosque, con una corona de hojas sobre
los cabellos dorados, muy parecido a la figura que Bombur habia visto en suehos.
La gente elfica se pasaba cuencos de mano en mano por encima de las hogueras;
algunos tocaban el arpa y muchos estaban cantando. Las cabelleras
resplandecian cehidas con flores; gemas verdes y blancas destellaban en
cinturones y collares, y las caras y las canciones eran de regocijo. Altas, claras y
hermosas sonaban las canciones, y fuera salio Thorin, apareciendo entre ellos.

Un silencio mortal cayo a mitad de una frase. Todas las luces se extinguieron. Las
hogueras se transformaron en humaredas negras. Brasas y cenizas cayeron sobre
los ojos de los enanos, y en el bosque se oyeron otra vez clamores y gritos.

Bilbo se encontro corriendo en circulos (asi lo creia) y llamando y llamando: —
Dori, Nori, Oh, 6in, Gloin, Fili, Kili, Bombur, Bifur, Balin, Dwalin, Thorin Escudo de
Roble — mientras gentes que ni podia ver ni sentir hacian lo mismo alrededor,
lanzando algun ocasional — jBilbo! — Pero los gritos de los otros fueron
haciendose mas lejanos y debiles, y aunque al cabo de un rato le parecio que se
habian transformado en aullidos y distantes llamadas de socorro, todos los
sonidos murieron al fin, y Bilbo se quedo solo en una oscuridad y un silencio
completos.

Aquel fue uno de los momentos mas tristes de la vida de Bilbo. Pero pronto
decidio que era inutil intentar nada hasta que el dia trajese alguna luz y que de
nada servia andar a ciegas cansandose, sin esperanzas de desayuno que lo
reviviese. Asi que se sento con la espalda contra un arbol, y no por ultima vez se



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encontro pensando en el distante agujero — hobbit y las hermosas despensas.
Estaba sumido en pensamientos de pancetas, huevos, tostadas y mantequilla,
cuando sintio que algo lo tocaba. Algo como una cuerda pegajosa y fuerte se le
habia pegado a la mano izquierda; trato de moverse y descubrio que tenia las
piernas ya sujetas por aquella misma especie de cuerda, y cuando trato de
levantarse, cayo al suelo.

Entonces la gran arana, que habia estado ocupada en atarlo mientras dormitaba,
aparecio por detras y se precipito sobre el. Bilbo solo veia los ojos de la criatura,
pero podia sentir el contacto de las patas peludas mientras la arana trataba de
paralizarlo con vueltas y mas vueltas de aquel hilo abominable. Fue una suerte
que volviese en si a tiempo. Pronto no hubiera podido moverse. Pero antes de
liberarse, tuvo que sostener una lucha desesperada. Rechazo a la criatura con las
manos — estaba intentando envenenarlo para mantenerlo quieto, como las aranas
pequenas hacen con las moscas — hasta que recordo la espada y la desenvaino.
La arana dio un salto atras y Bilbo tuvo tiempo para cortar las ataduras de las
piernas. Ahora le tocaba a el atacar. Era evidente que la arana no estaba
acostumbrada a cosas que tuviesen a los lados tales aguijones, o hubiese
escapado mucho mas aprisa. Bilbo se precipito sobre ella antes que
desapareciese y blandiendo la espada la golpeo en los ojos. Entonces la arana
enloquecio y salto y danzo y estiro las patas en horribles espasmos, hasta que
dando otro golpe Bilbo acabo con ella. Luego se dejo caer, y durante largo rato no
recordo nada mas.

Cuando volvio en si, vio alrededor la habitual luz gris y mortecina de los dias del
bosque. La arana yacia muerta a un lado y la espada estaba manchada de negro.
Por alguna razon, matar a la arana gigante, el, totalmente solo, en la oscuridad,
sin la ayuda del mago o de los enanos o de cualquier otra criatura, fue muy
importante para el sehor Bolson. Se sentia una persona diferente, mucho mas
audaz y fiera a pesar del estomago vacio, mientras limpiaba la espada en la hierba
y la devolvia a la vaina.

— Te dare un nombre — le dijo a la espada — . jTe llamare Aguijon!

Luego se dispuso a explorar. El bosque estaba oscuro y silencioso, pero antes que
nada tenia que buscar a sus amigos, como era obvio. Quiza no estuviesen lejos, a
menos que unos trasgos (o algo peor) los hubieran capturado. A Bilbo no le
parecia sensato ponerse a gritar, y durante un rato estuvo preguntandose de que
lado correria el sendero y en que direccion tendria que ir para buscar a los
enanos.

— jOh!, ^por que no habremos tenido en cuenta los consejos de Beorn y Gandalf?
— se lamentaba — jEn que enredo nos hemos metido todos nosotros! jNosotros!
Lo unico que deseo es que fuesemos nosotros: es horrible estar completamente
solo.

Por ultimo trato de recordar la direccion de donde habian venido los gritos de
auxilio la noche anterior, y por suerte (habia nacido con una buena provision de
suerte) lo recordo bastante bien, como vereis en seguida. Habiendose decidido,
avanzo muy despacio, tan habilmente como pudo. Los hobbits saben moverse en



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silencio, especialmente en los bosques, como ya os he dicho; ademas Bilbo se
habia puesto el anillo antes de ponerse en marcha, y fue por eso que las arahas
no lo vieron ni oyeron como se acercaba. Se abrio paso sigilosamente durante un
trecho, cuando vio delante una espesa sombra negra, negra aun para aquel
bosque, como la sombra de una medianoche inmutable. Cuando se acerco, vio
que la sombra era en realidad una confusion de telarahas superpuestas. Vio
tambien, de repente, que unas arahas grandes y horribles estaban sentadas por
encima de el en las ramas, y con anillo o sin anillo, temblo de miedo al pensar que
quiza lo descubrieran. Se quedo detras de un arbol, observo a un grupo de arahas
durante un tiempo, y al fin comprendio que aquellas repugnantes criaturas se
hablaban unas a otras en la quietud y el silencio del bosque. Las voces eran como
leves crujidos y siseos, pero Bilbo pudo entender muchas de las palabras.
i Estaban hablan do de los enanos!

— Fue una lucha dura, pero valio la pena — dijo una — . En efecto, que pieles
asquerosas y gruesas tienen, pero apuesto a que dentro hay buenos jugos.

— Si, seran un buen bocado cuando hayan colgado un poco en la tela — dijo otra.

— No los colgueis demasiado tiempo — dijo una tercera — . No estan muy gordos.
Yo diria que no se alimentaron muy bien ultimamente.

— Matadlos, os digo yo — siseo una cuarta — . Matadlos ahora y colgadlos muertos
durante un rato.

— Apostaria a que ya estan muertos — dijo la primera.

— No, no lo estan. Acabo de ver a uno forcejeando. Justo despertando de un
hermoso sueho, diria yo. Os lo mostrare.

Una de las arahas gordas corrio luego a lo largo de una cuerda, hasta llegar a una
docena de bultos que colgaban en hilera de las ramas altas. Bilbo los vio entonces
por primera vez suspendidos en las sombras, y descubrio horrorizado que el pie
de un enano sobresalia del fondo de algunos de los bultos, y aqui y alia la punta
de una nariz, o un trozo de barba o de capuchon.

La araha se acerco al mas gordo de los bultos. "Es el pobre viejo Bombur,
apostaria", penso Bilbo; y la araha pellizco la nariz que asomaba. Dentro sono un
debil gahido, y un pie salio disparado y golpeo fuerte y directamente a la araha.
Aun quedaba vida en Bombur.

Se oyo un ruido, como si hubieran pateado una pelota desinflada, y la araha
enfurecida cayo del arbol, aferrandose a su propia cuerda en el ultimo instante.

Las otras heron. — Tenias bastante razon. jLa carne aun esta viva y coleando!

— i Pronto acabare con eso! — siseo la araha colerica, volviendo a trepar a la rama.

Bilbo vio que habia llegado el momento de hacer algo. No podia llegar hasta
donde estaban las bestias, ni tenia nada que tirarles; pero mirando alrededor vio
que en lo que parecia el lecho de un arroyo, seco ahora, habia muchas piedras.
Bilbo era un tirador de piedras bastante bueno y no tardo mucho en encontrar una
lisa y de forma de huevo que le cabia perfectamente en la mano. De niho habia



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tirado piedras a todo, hasta que las ardillas, los conejos y aun los pajaros se
apartaban rapidos como el rayo en cuanto lo veian aparecer; y de mayor se habia
pasado tambien bastante tiempo arrojando tejos, dardos, bochas, boliches, bolos y
practicando otros juegos tranquilos de punteria y tiro; aunque tambien podia hacer
muchas otras cosas — aparte de anillos de humo, preguntar acertijos y cocinar —
que no he tenido tiempo de contaros. Tampoco lo hay ahora. Mientras recogia
piedras, la araha habia llegado hasta Bombur, que pronto estaria muerto. En ese
momento Bilbo disparo. La piedra dio en la cabeza de la araha con un golpe seco
y la bestia se desprendio del arbol y cayo pesadamente al suelo con todas las
patas encogidas.

La piedra siguiente atraveso zumbando una telaraha, y rompiendo las cuerdas,
derribo a la araha que estaba alii sentada. A esto siguio una gran conmocion en la
colonia, y por un momento olvidaron a los enanos, os lo aseguro. No podian ver a
Bilbo, pero no les costo mucho descubrir de que direccion venian las piedras.
Rapidas como el rayo, se acercaron corriendo y balanceandose hacia el hobbit,
tendiendo largas cuerdas alrededor, hasta que el aire parecio todo ocupado por
trampas flotantes.

Bilbo, de cualquier modo, se deslizo pronto hasta otro sitio. Se le ocurrio la idea de
alejar mas y mas a las arahas de los enanos, si podia, y hacer que se sintieran
perplejas, excitadas y enojadas, todo a la vez. Cuando medio centenar de arahas
llego al lugar donde el habia estado antes, les tiro unas cuantas piedras mas, y
tambien a las otras que habian quedado a retaguardia; luego, danzando por entre
los arboles, se puso a cantar una cancion, para enfurecerlas y atraerlas, y tambien
para que lo oyeran los enanos.

Esto fue lo que canto;

iAraha gorda y vieja que hilas en un arbol!

jArana gorda y vieja que no alcanzas a verme!

jVenenosa! jVenenosa!

jNo pararas?

<j,No pararas tu hilado y vendras a buscarme?

Viga Tontona, toda cuerpo grande,

jVieja Tontona, no puedes espiarme!

jVenenosa! jVenenosa!

jDejate caer!

jNunca me atraparas en los arboles!



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No muy buena quiza, pero no olvideis que habia tenido que componerla el mismo,
en el apuro de un dificil momento. De todos modos tuvo el efecto que el habia
esperado. Mientras cantaba, tiro algunas piedras mas y pateo el suelo.
Practicamente todas las aranas del lugar fueron tras el: unas saltaban abajo, otras
corrian por las ramas, pasando de arbol en arbol o tendian nuevos hilos en sitios
oscuros. Estaban terriblemente enojadas. Aun olvidando las piedras, ninguna
araha habia sido llamada Venenosa, y desde luego, Tontona es para cualquiera
un insulto inadmisible.

Bilbo se escabullo a otro sitio, pero por entonces muchas de las aranas habian
corrido a diferentes puntos del claro donde vivian, y estaban tejiendo telarahas
entre los troncos de todos los arboles. Muy pronto Bilbo estaria rodeado de una
espesa barrera de cuerdas, al menos esa era la idea de las aranas. En medio de
todos aquellos insectos que cazaban y tejian, Bilbo hizo de tripas corazon y canto
otra vez:



La Lob perezosa y la loca Cob
tejen telas para cazarme;
mas dulce soy que muchas carnes,
ipero no pueden encontrarme!
Aqui estoy yo, mosca traviesa;
y ahi vosotras, gordas y hurahas.
Jamas podreis atraparme
en vuestras locas telarahas.

_________________
The Flesh of Fallen Angels! Come to me all! Asteroth,

Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Bapholada, Lucifer, Loki, Satan,

Cthulhu, Lilith, Della! Blood, to you all!

I'm the wolf, yeah!
I am the wolf! It's close, it's coming. You have come.
The witness to the end, of time. It's now! I will rise to
her side! I don't need the words!
I'm beyond the words!
Image

_________________
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Wed Aug 21, 2013 3:50 pm
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Post Re: POST, POST LIKE YOU NEVER POSTED BEFORE!
Con eso se volvio y descubrio que el ultimo espacio entre dos grandes arboles
habia sido cerrado con una telaraha, pero por fortuna no una verdadera telaraha,
sino grandes hebras de cuerdas de doble ancho, tendidas rapidamente de aca
para alia de tronco a tronco. Desenvaino la pequeha espada, hizo pedazos las
hebras, y se fue cantando.

Las aranas vieron la espada, aunque no creo que supieran lo que era, y todas se
pusieron a correr persiguiendo al hobbit, por el suelo y por las ramas, agitando las
piernas peludas, chasqueando las pinzas, los ojos desorbitados, rabiosas,
echando espuma. Lo siguieron bosque adentro, hasta que Bilbo no se atrevio a
alejarse mas. Luego se escabullo de vuelta, mas callado que un raton.

Tenia un tiempo corto y precioso, lo sabia, antes que las aranas perdieran la
paciencia y volviesen a los arboles, donde colgaban los enanos. Mientras tanto,
tenia que rescatarlos. Lo mas dificil era subir hasta la rama larga donde pendian
los bultos. No me imagino Como se las hubiese arreglado si, por fortuna, una
araha no hubiera dejado un cabo colgando; con ayuda de la cuerda, aunque se le
pegaba a las manos y le lastimaba la piel, trepo, y alia arriba se encontro con una
araha malvada, vieja, lenta y gruesa, que habia quedado atras y guardaba a los



102



prisioneros, y que habia estado entretenida pinchandolos, para averiguar cual era
el mas jugoso. Habia pensado comenzar el banquete mientras las otras estaban
fuera, pero el senor Bolson tenia prisa, y antes que la arana supiera lo que estaba
sucediendo, sintio el aguijon de la espada y rodo muerta cayendo de la rama.

El siguiente trabajo de Bilbo era soltar un enano. <j,C6mo lo haria? Si cortaba la
cuerda, el enano maltrecho caeria golpeandose contra el suelo, que estaba bien
abajo. Serpenteando rama adelante (lo que hizo que los pobres enanos se
balancearan y danzaran como fruta madura), llego al primer bulto.

"Fili o Kili" se dijo viendo la punta de un capuchon azul que sobresalia de un
extreme "Mas posiblemente Fili", penso al descubrir la punta de una nariz larga
que asomaba entre las cuerdas enmaranadas. Inclinandose, Consiguio cortar la
mayor parte de las cuerdas pegajosas y fuertes, y entonces, en efecto, con un
puntapie y algunas sacudidas, aparecio la mayor parte de Fili. Me temo que Bilbo
se ho viendo como agitaba las piernas y brazos rigidos mientras danzaba con la
cuerda de la telaraha en las axilas, como uno de esos juguetes divertidos que se
menean en un alambre.

De algun modo, Fili se encaramo en la rama, y ahi ayudo todo lo posible al hobbit,
aunque se sentia mareado y enfermo a causa del veneno de las arahas, y por
haber estado colgado la mayor parte de la noche y el dia siguiente, envuelto y
envuelto en cuerdas, solo con la nariz fuera para respirar. Tardo mucho tiempo en
quitarse aquellas hebras bestiales de los ojos y las cejas, y en cuanto a la barba,
tuvo que cortarse la mayor parte. Bien, Bilbo y Fili, juntos, alzaron primero a un
enano y luego a otro y cortaron las ataduras. Ninguno se encontraba mejor que Fili
y algunos bastante peor, pues apenas habian podido respirar (ya veis, a veces las
narices largas son utiles), y algunos parecian mas envenenados.

De este modo rescataron a Kili. Bifur, Bofur, Dori y Nori. El pobre viejo Bombur
estaba tan exhausto — era el mas gordo y lo habian pinchado y pellizcado
constantemente — que rodo de la rama y jplaf!, cayo al suelo, por fortuna sobre
unas hojas, y quedo alii tendido. Pero aun habia cinco enanos que colgaban del
extremo de la rama, cuando las arahas comenzaron a volver, mas rabiosas que
nunca.

Bilbo fue inmediatamente hasta el sitio en que la rama nacia del tronco, y mantuvo
a raya a las arahas que subian trepando. Se habia quitado el anillo cuando
rescato a Fili y habia olvidado ponerselo de nuevo, y ahora todas ellas farfullaban
y siseaban:

— jYa te vemos, asquerosa criatura! jTe comeremos y solo te dejaremos la piel y
los huesos colgando de un arbol! jAh! Tiene un aguijon, ^verdad? Bueno, de todas
maneras lo atraparemos y colgaremos cabeza abajo durante un dia o dos.

Mientras, los enanos trabajaban en el resto de los cautivos y cortaban los hilos.
Pronto liberarian a todos, aunque no estaba claro que ocurriria despues. Las
arahas los habian capturado sin muchas dificultades la noche anterior, pero
sorprendiendolos en la oscuridad. Esta vez, parecia que iba a librarse una terrible
batalla.



103



De repente Bilbo cayo en la cuenta de que algunas aranas se habian reunido
alrededor del viejo Bombur, sobre el suelo, lo habian atado otra vez y se lo
estaban llevando a la rastra. Dio un grito y acuchillo a las bestias que tenia
delante. Las aranas retrocedieron en seguida, y Bilbo trepo y salto desde el arbol,
justo en medio de las que estaban en el suelo. La pequeha espada era un tipo de
aguijon que no conocfan. jComo se movia de aca para alia! La hoja brillaba
triunfante cuando traspasaba a las aranas. Seis de ellas murieron antes que el
resto huyese y dejase a Bombur en manos de Bilbo.

— jBajad! jBajad! — grito a los enanos que estaban en la rama — . No os quedeis
ahi; os echaran las redes encima — pues veia que unas pocas aranas trepaban a
los arboles vecinos, arrastrandose por las ramas sobre la cabeza de los enanos.

Los enanos bajaron gateando, o saltaron o se dejaron caer, los once en monton, la
mayoria muy temblorosos y torpes de piernas. Alii se encontraron al fin los doce,
contando al pobre Bombur, a quien sostenian por ambos lados el primo Bifur y el
hermano Bofur; y Bilbo se movia alrededor y blandia el Aguijon; y cientos de
aranas los miraban con los ojos desorbitados, desde arriba, desde un lado, desde
otro. La situation parecia bastante desesperada.

Entonces comenzo la batalla. Algunos enanos tenian cuchillos; otros, palos, y
habia piedras para todos; y Bilbo blandia la daga elfica. Una y otra vez las aranas
fueron rechazadas, y muchas murieron. Pero esto no podia prolongarse. Bilbo
estaba casi exhausto; solo cuatro de los enanos se mantenian aun en pie, y pronto
las aranas caerian sobre ellos como sobre moscas cansadas. Ya tejian de nuevo
alrededor, de arbol en arbol.

Bilbo al fin no pudo pensar en otro plan que comunicar a los enanos el secreto del
anillo. Lo lamentaba bastante, pero no habia otro remedio.

— Voy a desaparecer — dijo — . Alejare a las aranas de aqui, si puedo; vosotros
teneis que manteneros juntos y escapar en la direction opuesta. Por alii a la
izquierda quiza se podria llegar al sitio donde vimos por ultima vez el fuego de los
elfos.

Tardaron en entender, pues las cabezas les daban vueltas en medio de una
confusion de gritos, y palos y piedras que golpeaban, pero al fin Bilbo sintio que no
podia esperar mas: las aranas estaban cerrando el circulo. De subito se deslizo el
anillo en el dedo, y desaparecio dejando estupefactos a los enanos.

Pronto se oyeron gritos: — jPerezosa Lob! jVenenosa! — entre los arboles de la
derecha. Esto enfurecio mucho a las aranas. Dejaron de acercarse a los enanos y
unas cuantas se volvieron hacia la voz. "Venenosa" las enojo tanto que perdieron
el juicio. Entonces Balin, quien habia entendido el plan de Bilbo mejor que los
demas, se lanzo al ataque. Los enanos se unieron en un peloton y descargando
una lluvia de piedras corrieron hacia la izquierda y atravesaron el circulo. Lejos,
detras de ellos, los cantos y gritos cesaron de pronto.

Esperando contra toda esperanza que no hubiesen capturado a Bilbo, los enanos
siguieron adelante. No bastante de prisa, sin embargo. Se sentian enfermos y
debiles y arrastraban las piernas y cojeaban, perseguidos por aranas que les



104



pisaban los talones. Una y otra vez tenian que volverse y enfrentar a las criaturas
que estaban casi encima de ellos; y ya algunas de las aranas corrian por los
arboles y dejaban caer unos largos hilos pegajosos.

Las cosas parecian haber empeorado otra vez, cuando de pronto Bilbo reaparecio
e inesperadamente ataco desde un lado a las asombradas aranas.

— jSeguid! jSeguid! — grito — . jYo sere quien clave el aguijon!

Y asi ocurrio. Se movia adelante y atras, rasgando los hilos de las aranas,
cortandoles las patas y acuchillandoles los cuerpos gordos si se acercaban
demasiado. Las aranas se hinchaban de rabia y farfullaban y espumajeaban y
siseaban horribles maldiciones; pero ahora tenian un miedo mortal al Aguijon y no
se atrevian a acercarse. Asi, mientras maldecian, la presa se les escapaba lenta e
inexorablemente. Era una situacion horrible y parecia durar horas. Pero al fin,
cuando Bilbo sentia que ya no tenia fuerzas para levantar la mano y asestar otro
golpe, de pronto abandonaron la persecution, y no los siguieron mas y volvieron
decepcionadas a la tenebrosa colonia.

Entonces los enanos se dieron cuenta de que habian llegado al circulo en que
habian ardido los fuegos de los elfos. No podian saber si era uno de los fuegos
que habian visto la noche anterior; pero parecia que algun encantamiento
bienhechor persistia en estos sitios, que a las aranas no les gustaban. De
cualquier modo, la luz era mas verde, los arbustos menos espesos y
amenazadores, y ahora podian descansar y recobrar el aliento.

Alii se quedaron un rato resollando y jadeando. Pero muy pronto los enanos
empezaron a hacer preguntas. Querian que Bilbo les explicase bien el asunto de
las desapariciones; tanto les intereso la historia del anillo que por un momento
olvidaron sus propios problemas. Balin en particular insistio en oir otra vez la
historia de Gollum con acertijos y todo lo demas, y con el anillo en el lugar que
correspondfa. Pero al cabo de un tiempo la luz comenzo a declinar, y se hicieron
otras preguntas. ^Donde estaban y por donde coma el camino? ^Donde habria
comida y que harian ahora? Estas preguntas fueron hechas una y otra vez, y
esperaban que el pequeho Bilbo conociese las respuestas. Por lo que podeis ver,
habian cambiado mucho de opinion con respecto al sehor Bolson, y ahora lo
respetaban de veras (tal y como habia dicho Gandalf). Ya no refunfuhaban, y
esperaban realmente que a Bilbo se le ocurriria algun plan maravilloso. Sabian
demasiado bien que si no hubiese sido por el hobbit todos estarian ya muertos; y
se lo agradecieron muchas veces. Algunos de ellos incluso se pusieron en pie y lo
saludaron inclinandose hasta el suelo, aunque el esfuerzo los hizo caer, y durante
un rato no pudieron incorporarse. Saber la verdad sobre las desapariciones no
disminuyo de ningun modo la opinion que Bilbo les merecia, pues entendieron que
tenia ingenio, y tambien suerte y un anillo magico, y las tres cosas eran bienes
muy utiles. En verdad lo elogiaron tanto que Bilbo llego a sentir que habia algo en
el de aventurero audaz, al fin y al cabo, aunque se hubiese sentido aun mucho
mas audaz si hubiera tenido algo que comer.

Pero no habia nada, nada de nada, y ninguno estaba en disposition de ir a buscar
algo o encontrar el sendero perdido. jEl sendero perdido! En la fatigada cabeza de



105



Bilbo no habia otra cosa. Se sento y clavo los ojos en los arboles que se sucedian
en interminables hileras, y al cabo de un rato todos callaron otra vez. Todos
excepto Balin. Mucho tiempo despues que los otros hubieran dejado de hablar y
cuando ya habian cerrado los ojos, Balin seguia aun murmurando y riendo entre
dientes.

— jGollum! jCaramba! Asi fue como se escabullo delante de mi, <j,no? jAhora me
lo explico! Arrastrandose en silencio, nada mas, <j,no, senor Bolson? jLos botones
todos sobre el umbral! El bueno de Bilbo... Bilbo... Bil bo... bo... bo... bo... — Y
entonces se quedo dormido, y durante un largo rato no se oyo nada.

De pronto, Dwalin abrio un ojo y miro alrededor, — ^Donde esta Thorin? —
pregunto.

Fue un golpe terrible. Desde luego, solo eran trece, doce enanos y el hobbit.
<j,D6nde, pues, estaba Thorin? Se preguntaron que desgracia habria caido sobre
el: un encantamiento, o quiza unos monstruos oscuros, y todos se estremecieron
mientras yacian perdidos alii en el bosque. Y asi, cuando la tarde se hizo noche
negra, cayeron uno tras otro en un sueno incomodo, de horribles pesadillas; y ahi
cenemos que dejarlos por ahora, demasiado enfermos y debiles como para
ponerse a vigilar o turnarse como centinelas.

Thorin habia sido capturado mucho antes que ellos. ^Recordais que Bilbo cayo
dormido como un tronco cuando entro en el circulo de luz? La vez siguiente fue
Thorin quien dio un paso adelante, y cuando la luz desaparecio, cayo al suelo
como una piedra encantada. Las voces de los enanos perdidos en la noche, los
gritos cuando las arahas se precipitaron sobre ellos y los ataron, y todos los ruidos
de la batalla del dia siguiente, habian pasado inadvertidos para Thorin. Luego los
Elfos del Bosque se le echaron encima, y lo ataron, y se lo llevaron.

Por supuesto, las gentes de los banquetes eran Elfos del Bosque. Los elfos no son
malos, pero desconfian de los desconocidos: esto puede ser un defecto. Aunque
dominaban la magia, andaban siempre con cuidado, aun en aquellos dias.
Distintos de los Altos Elfos del Poniente, eran mas peligrosos y menos cautos,
pues muchos de ellos (asi como los parientes dispersos de las colinas y
montahas) descendian de las tribus antiguas que nunca habian ido a la Tierra
Occidental de las Hadas. Alii los Elfos de la Luz, los Elfos del Abismo y los Elfos
del Mar vivieron durante siglos y se hicieron mas justos, prudentes y sabios, y
desarrollaron artes magicas, y la habilidad de crear objetos hermosos y
maravillosos, antes que algunos volvieran al Ancho Mundo. En el Ancho Mundo
los Elfos del Bosque disfrutaban de los crepusculos del Sol y la Luna, pero
preferian las estrellas; e iban de un lado a otro por los bosques enormes que
crecian en tierras ahora perdidas. Habitaban la mayor parte del tiempo en los
limites de las florestas, de donde salian a veces para cazar o cabalgar y correr por
los espacios abiertos a la luz de la luna o de los astros; y luego de la llegada de
los Hombres, se aficionaron mas y mas al crepusculo y a la noche. Sin embargo,
eran y siguen siendo elfos, y esto significa Buena Gente.

En una gran cueva, algunas millas dentro del Bosque Negro, en el lado este, vivia
en este tiempo el mas grande rey de los elfos. Por delante de unas puertas de



106



piedra coma un no que venia de las cimas de los bosques y desembocaba dentro
y fuera de los pantanos, al pie de las altas tierras boscosas. Esta gran cueva, en la
que se abrian a un lado y a otro otras cuevas mas reducidas, se hundia mucho
bajo tierra y tenia numerosos pasadizos y amplios salones; pero era mas luminosa
y saludable que cualquier morada de trasgos, y no tan profunda ni tan peligrosa.
De hecho, los subditos del rey vivian y cazaban en su mayor parte en los bosques
abiertos y ten fan casas o cabanas en el suelo o sobre las ramas. Las hayas eran
sus arboles favoritos. La cueva del rey era el palacio, un sitio seguro para guardar
los tesoros y una fortaleza contra el enemigo.

Era tambien la mazmorra de los prisioneros. Asi que a la cueva arrastraron a
Thorin, no con excesiva gentileza, pues no querian a los enanos y pensaban que
Thorin era un enemigo. En otros tiempos habian libra do guerras con algunos
enanos, a quienes acusaban de haberles robado un tesoro. Sena al menos justo
decir que los enanos dieron otra version y explicaban que solo habian tornado lo
que era de ellos, pues el rey elfo les habia encargado que le tallasen la plata y el
oro en bruto, y mas tarde habia rehusado pagarles. Si el rey elfo tenia una
debilidad, esa eran los tesoros, en especial la plata y las gemas blancas; y aunque
guardaba muchas riquezas, siempre queria mas, pensando que aun no eran
tantas como las de otros sehores elfos de antaho. La gente elfica nunca cavaba
tuneles ni trabajaba los metales o las joyas; ni tampoco se preocupaba mucho por
comerciar o cultivar la tierra. Todo esto era bien conocido por los enanos, aunque
la familia de Thorin no habia tenido nada que ver con la disputa de la que
hablamos antes. En consecuencia, Thorin se enojo por el trato que habia recibido
cuando le quitaron el hechizo y recobro el conocimiento, y estaba decidido
tambien a que no le arrancasen ni una palabra sobre oro o joyas.

El rey miro severamente a Thorin cuando lo llevaron al palacio y le hizo muchas
preguntas. Pero Thorin solo dijo que se estaba muriendo de hambre.

— ^Por que tu y los tuyos intentasteis atacarnos tres veces durante la fiesta? —
pregunto el rey.

— Nosotros no los atacarnos — respondio Thorin — , nos acercamos a pedir porque
nos moriamos de hambre.

— i,D6nde estan tus amigos y que hacen ahora?

— No lo se, pero supongo que muriendose de hambre en el bosque.

— ^Que haciais en el bosque?

— Buscabamos comida y bebida, pues nos moriamos de hambre.

— Pero, en definitiva, ^que asunto os trajo al bosque? — pregunto el rey, enojado.

Thorin cerro entonces la boca y no dijo nada mas.

— jMuy bien! — exclamo el rey — . Que se lo lleven y lo pongan a buen recaudo
hasta que tenga ganas de decir la verdad, aunque tarde cien ahos.

Entonces los elfos lo ataron con correas y lo encerraron en una de las cuevas mas
interiores, de solidas puertas de madera, y lo dejaron alii. Le dieron buena comida



107



y bebida en abundancia, pues los elfos no eran trasgos, y se comportaban de
modo razonable con los enemigos que capturaban, aun con los peores. Las
aranas gigantes eran las unicas cosas vivientes con las que no tenian
misericordia,

Alii, en la mazmorra del rey, quedo el pobre Thorin, y luego de haber dado gracias
por el pan, la carne y el agua, empezo a preguntarse que habria sido de sus
infortunados amigos. No tardo mucho en saberlo; pero esto es parte del capitulo
siguiente y el comienzo de una nueva aventura en la que el hobbit muestra otra
vez su utilidad.



BARRILES DE CONTRABANDO

El dia que siguio a la batalla con las aranas, Bilbo y los enanos hicieron un ultimo
y desesperado esfuerzo por encontrar un camino de salida antes de morir de
hambre y sed. Se incorporaron y fueron tambaleandose hacia el sitio en que corria
el sendero, segun decian ocho de los trece; pero nunca descubrieron si habian
acertado. Un dia como todos los del bosque se desvanecia una vez mas en una
noche negra, cuando las luces de muchas antorchas aparecieron de subito todo
alrededor, como cientos de estrellas rojas. Los Elfos del Bosque se acercaron
cantando, armados con arcos y lanzas, y dieron el alto a los enanos.

Nadie penso en luchar. Aun si los enanos no se hubiesen encontrado en una
situacion tal que les alegraba realmente ser capturados, los pequenos cuchillos,
las — unicas armas que tenian, hubieran sido inutiles contra las flechas de los
elfos, que podian golpear el ojo de un pajaro en la oscuridad. De modo que se
contentaron con detenerse, y se sentaron, y aguardaron, todos excepto Bilbo, que
se puso rapido el anillo y se deslizo a un lado. Asi se explica que cuando los elfos
ataron a los enanos en una larga hilera, uno tras otro, y los contaron, nunca
encontraron ni contaron al hobbit.

No lo oyeron ni lo sintieron mientras corria al trote bastante atras de la luz de las
antorchas, mientras ellos llevaban a los prisioneros por el bosque. Les habian
vendado los ojos a todos, pero esto no cambiaba mucho las cosas, pues aun
Bilbo, que podia utilizar bien los ojos, no podia ver a donde iban, y de todos
modos ni el ni los otros sabian de donde habian partido.

Bilbo trataba por todos los medios de no quedarse demasiado atras, pues los elfos
hacian marchar a los enanos con una rapidez que nunca habian conocido, sobre
todo enfermos y fatigados como estaban. El rey habia ordenado que se dieran
prisa. De pronto, las antorchas se detuvieron, y el hobbit tuvo el tiempo justo para
alcanzarlos antes que comenzasen a cruzar el puente. Este era el puente que
cruzaba el rio y llevaba a las puertas del rey. El agua se precipitaba oscura y
violenta por debajo; y en el otro extremo habia portones que cerraban una enorme
caverna en la ladera de una pendiente abrupta cubierta de arboles. Alii las
grandes hayas descendian hasta la misma ribera, y hundian los pies en el rio.

Los elfos empujaron a los prisioneros a traves del puente, pero Bilbo vacilo en la
retaguardia. No le gustaba nada el aspecto de la caverna, y solo a ultimo momento



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se decidio a no abandonar a sus amigos, y se deslizo casi pisandole los talones al
ultimo de los elfos, antes de que los grandes portones del rey se cerrasen detras
con un golpe sordo.

Dentro los pasadizos estaban iluminados con antorchas de luz roja, y los guardias
elfos cantaban marchando por corredores retorcidos, entrecruzados y resonantes.
No se parecian a los tuneles de los trasgos: eran mas pequenos, menos
profundos, y de un aire mas puro. En un gran salon con pilares tallados en la roca
viva, estaba sentado el rey elfo en una silla de madera labrada. Llevaba en la
cabeza una corona de bayas y hojas rojizas, pues el otono habia llegado de
nuevo. En la primavera se cenia una corona de flores de los bosques. Sostenia en
la mano un cetro de roble tallado.

Los prisioneros fueron llevados al rey, y aunque el los miro con severidad, ordeno
que los desataran, pues estaban andrajosos y fatigados. — Ademas, no necesitan
cuerdas — dijo — . No hay escapatoria de mis puertas magicas para aquellos que
alguna vez son traidos aqui.

Larga e inquisitivamente pregunto a los enanos sobre lo que hadan, y a donde
iban, y de donde venian; pero no consiguio sacarles mas noticias que a Thorin. Se
sentian desanimados y enfadados, y ni siquiera intentaron parecer corteses.

— iQue hemos hecho, oh rey? — dijo Balin, el mas viejo de los que quedaban —
<j,Es un crimen perderse en el bosque, tener hambre y sed, ser atrapado por las
arahas? <-,Son acaso las arahas vuestras bestias domesticadas o vuestros
animales falderos, y por eso os enojais si las matamos?

Esta pregunta, desde luego, enojo aun mas al rey, quien contesto: — Es un crimen
andar por mi pais sin mi permiso. ^Olvidas que estabas en mi reino, utilizando el
camino que mi pueblo abrio una vez? ^Acaso por tres veces no acosasteis e
importunasteis a mi gente en el bosque, y despertasteis a las arahas con vuestros
gritos y tumultos? jDespues de todo el disturbio que habeis provocado tengo
derecho a saber que os trae por aqui, y si no me lo contais ahora, os encerrare a
todos hasta que hayais aprendido a ser sensatos y a tener buenas maneras!

Luego ordeno que pusieran a cada uno de los enanos en celdas separadas y les
dieran comida y bebida, pero que no se les permitiese dejar el calabozo, hasta que
al menos uno de ellos se decidiera a decir todo lo que el queria saber. Pero no les
dijo que Thorin habia sido hecho prisionero. Bilbo mismo lo descubrio.

jPobre sehor BolsonL. Fue una larga y aburrida temporada la que paso en aquel
sitio, a solas, y siempre oculto, nunca atreviendose a sacarse el anillo, y apenas
atreviendose a dormir, aun escondido en los rincones mas oscuros y remotos que
podia encontrar, Por hacer algo se dedico a recorrer el palacio del rey elfo. Unas
puertas magicas cerraban la entrada, pero a veces podia salir, si era rapido.
Compahias de los Elfos del Bosque, algunas veces con el rey a la cabeza, salian
de cuando en cuando de caceria, o a otros asuntos, a los bosques y a las tierras
del Este. Entonces, si Bilbo se apresuraba, podia deslizarse fuera detras de ellos;
aunque era un riesgo muy peligroso. Mas de una vez estuvo a punto de ser
alcanzado por las puertas, cuando batian juntas al pasar el ultimo elfo; todavia no
se atrevia a marchar entre ellos a causa de la sombra que echaba (tenue y



109



vacilante a la luz de las antorchas), o por miedo a que tropezasen con el y lo
descubriesen. Y cuando salfa, lo que no era muy frecuente, no servia de mucho.
No deseaba abandonar a los enanos, y en verdad sin ellos no hubiera sabido a
donde ir. No podia marchar al paso de los elfos cazadores durante el tiempo que
estaban fuera, asi que nunca descubria los caminos de salida del bosque y se
quedaba errando tristemente por la floresta, aterrorizado de perderse, hasta que
aparecia una oportunidad de regresar. Ademas pasaba hambre fuera, pues no era
cazador, mientras que en el interior de las cavernas podia ganarse la vida de
alguna forma, robando comida del almacen o la mesa cuando no habia nadie a la
vista.

"Soy como un saqueador que no puede escapar, y ha de seguir saqueando
miserablemente la misma casa, dia tras dia" pensaba. "!Esta es la parte mas
monotona y gris de una desdichada, fatigosa, e incomoda aventura! jDesearia
estar de vuelta en mi agujero — hobbit junto a mi propio fuego, y a la luz de la
lampara!" A menudo deseaba tambien enviar un mensaje de socorro al mago,
pero aquello, desde luego, era del todo imposible; y pronto comprendio que si algo
podia hacerse, tendria que hacerlo el mismo, solo y sin ayuda.

Por fin, luego de una o dos semanas de esta vida furtiva, observando y siguiendo
a los guardias y aprovechando todas las oportunidades, se las arreglo para
descubrir donde estaban encerrados los enanos. Encontro las doce celdas en
sitios distintos del palacio, y al cabo de un tiempo consiguio conocer el camino
bastante bien. Cual no seria su sorpresa cuando oyo por casualidad una
conversation de los guardianes y se entero de que habia otro enano en prision, en
un lugar especialmente profundo y oscuro. Adivino en seguida, por supuesto, que
se trataba de Thorin; y descubrio al poco tiempo que la suposicion era correcta.
Despues de muchas dificultades consiguio encontrar el lugar cuando nadie
rondaba y tener unas pocas palabras con el jefe de los enanos.

Thorin se sentia demasiado desdichado para que sus propios infortunios
continuaran enfadandolo mucho tiempo, y ya estaba pensando en contarle al rey
todo lo del tesoro y la busqueda (lo que prueba que deprimido se sentia), cuando
oyo la vocecita de Bilbo en el agujero de la cerradura. No podia creerlo. Pronto,
sin embargo, entendio que no podia estar equivocado y se acerco a la puerta; y
sostuvo una larga y susurrante charla con el hobbit al otro lado.

Asi fue como Bilbo fue capaz de llevar en secreto un mensaje de Thorin a cada
uno de los otros enanos prisioneros, diciendoles que Thorin, el jefe, estaba
tambien en prision, muy cerca, y que nadie revelara al rey el objeto de la mision,
no todavia, no antes que Thorin lo ordenase. Pues Thorin se sintio otra vez
animado al oir como el hobbit habia salvado a los enanos de las arahas, y resolvio
de nuevo no pagar un rescate (prometiendole al rey una parte del tesoro) hasta
que toda Otra esperanza de salir de alii se hubiese desvanecido; en realidad hasta
que el extraordinario sehor Bolson Invisible (de quien empezaba a tener en verdad
una opinion muy alta) hubiese fracasado por completo en encontrar una solution
mas ingeniosa.



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Los otros enanos estuvieron por completo de acuerdo cuando recibieron el
mensaje. Todos pensaron que las partes del tesoro que les tocaban (y de las que
se consideraban los verdaderos duenos, a pesar de la situacion en que se
encontraban ahora y del todavia invicto dragon) se verian seriamente disminuidas
si los Elfos del Bosque reclamaban una porcion; y todos confiaban en Bilbo.
Exactamente lo que Gandalf habia anunciado, como veis. Tal vez esa era parte de
la razon por la que se marcho y los dejo.

Bilbo, sin embargo, no se sentia tan optimista. No le gustaba que alguien
dependiera de el, y deseaba que el mago estuviese al alcance. Pero era inutil;
quiza estaban separados por toda la oscura extension del Bosque Negro. Se sento
y penso y penso, hasta que casi le estallo la cabeza, pero no se le ocurrio ninguna
idea brillante. Un anillo invisible era algo de veras valioso, aunque no de mucha
utilidad entre catorce. Pero desde luego, como habreis adivinado, al final rescato a
sus amigos, y asi es como sucedio:

Un dia mientras curioseaba y deambulaba, Bilbo descubrio algo muy interesante:
los grandes portones no eran la unica entrada a las cavernas. Un arroyo coma por
debajo del palacio, y se unfa al Rio del Bosque un poco al este, mas alia de la
cuesta empinada en la que se abria la boca principal. En la ladera de la colina
donde nacia este curso subterraneo habia una compuerta. La boveda rocosa
descendia a la superficie del agua, y desde alii podia dejarse caer un portalon
hasta el mismo lecho del no, para impedir que alguien entrase o saliese. Pero el
portalon estaba abierto a menudo, pues mucha gente iba y venia por la
compuerta. Si alguien hubiese llegado por ese camino, se habria encontrado en
un tunel oscuro y tosco que se adentraba en el corazon de la colina; pero debajo
de las cavernas, en cierto sitio, el techo habia sido horadado y tapado con grandes
escotillas de roble, que comunicaban con las bodegas del rey. Alii se
amontonaban barriles y barriles y barriles; pues los Elfos del Bosque, y sobre todo
el rey, eran muy aficionados al vino, aunque no habia vihas en aquellos parajes. El
vino, y otras mercancias eran traidos desde lejos, de la tierras que habitaban los
parientes del Sur, o de los vihedos de los Hombres en tierras distantes.

Escondido detras de uno de los barriles mas grandes, Bilbo descubrio las
escotillas y para que Servian, y escuchando la charla de los sirvientes del rey, se
entero de como el vino y otras mercancias remontaban los rios, o cruzaban la
tierra, hasta el Lago Largo. Parecia que una ciudad de Hombres aun prosperaba
alii, construida sobre puentes, lejos, aguas adentro, como una protection contra
enemigos de toda suerte, y especialmente contra el dragon de la Montana. Traian
los barriles desde la Ciudad del Lago, remontando el Rio del Bosque. A menudo
los ataban juntos como grandes almadias y los empujaban aguas arriba con
pertigas o remos; algunas veces los cargaban en botes pianos.

Cuando los barriles estaban vacios, los elfos los arrojaban a traves de las
escotillas, abrian la compuerta, y los barriles flotaban fuera en el arroyo, hasta que
eran arrastrados por la corriente a un sitio lejano rio abajo, donde la ribera
sobresalia, cerca de los lindes orientales del Bosque Negro. Alii eran recogidos y
atados juntos, y flotaban de vuelta a la ciudad, que se alzaba cerca del punto
donde el Rio del Bosque desembocaba en el Lago Largo.



Ill



Bilbo estuvo sentado un tiempo meditando sobre esta compuerta, y
preguntandose si los enanos podrian escapar por alii, y al fin tuvo el desesperado
esbozo de un plan.

Habian servido la comida de la noche a los prisioneros. Los guardias se alejaron
con pasos pesados bajando los pasadizos, llevando la luz de las antorchas con
ellos y dejando todo a oscuras. Entonces Bilbo oyo la voz del mayordomo del rey
que daba las buenas noches al jefe de los guardias.

— Ahora ven conmigo — dijo — , y prueba el nuevo vino que acaba de llegar Estare
trabajando duro esta noche, limpiando las bodegas de barriles vacios, de modo
que tomemos primero un trago, para que me ayude a trabajar.

— Muy bien — ho el jefe de los guardias — Lo probare contigo, y vere si es digno de
la mesa del rey. jHay un banquete esta noche y no habria que mandar nada malo!

Cuando Bilbo oyo esto, se excito sobremanera, pues entendio que la suerte lo
acompahaba, y que pronto tendria ocasion de intentar aquel plan desesperado.
Siguio a los dos elfos, hasta que entraron en una pequeha bodega y se sentaron a
una mesa en la que habia dos jarros grandes. Los elfos empezaron a beber y a
reir alegremente. Una suerte desusada acompaho entonces a Bilbo. Tiene que ser
un vino muy poderoso el que ponga somnoliento a un elfo del bosque; pero este
vino, parecia, era la embriagadora cosecha de los gran des jardines de Dorwinion,
no destinado a soldados o sirvientes, sino solo a los banquetes del rey, y para ser
servido en cuencos mas pequehos, no en los grandes jarros del mayordomo.

Muy pronto el guardia jefe inclino la cabeza; luego la apoyo sobre la mesa y se
quedo profundamente dormido. El mayordomo continuo riendo y charlando
consigo mismo durante un rato, distraido al parecer, pero luego el tambien inclino
la cabeza, y cayo dormido y roncando al lado del guardia. El hobbit se escurrio
entonces en la bodega, y un momento despues el guardia jefe ya no tenia las
Naves, mientras Bilbo trotaba tan rapido como le era posible, a lo largo de los
pasadizos, hacia las celdas. El manojo de Naves le parecia muy pesado, y a veces
se le encogia el corazon, a pesar del anillo, pues no podia evitar que las Naves
tintineasen de cuando en cuando, estremeciendolo de pies a cabeza.

Primero abrio la puerta de Balin, y la cerro de nuevo con cuidado tan pronto como
el enano estuvo fuera.

Balin parecia muy sorprendido, como podeis imaginar; pero en cuanto dejo aquella
habitacion de piedra agobiante y minuscula, se sintio muy contento y quiso
detenerse y hacer preguntas, y conocer sintio muy contento y quiso detenerse y
hacer preguntas, y conocer los planes de Bilbo, y todo lo demas.

— jNo hay tiempo ahora! — dijo el hobbit — . Simplemente sigueme. Tenemos que
mantenernos juntos y no arriesgarnos a que nos separen. Tenemos que escapar
todos o ninguno, y esta es la ultima oportunidad. Si se descubre, quien sabe
donde os pondra el rey entonces, con cadenas en las manos y los pies, supongo.
jNo discutas, se un buen muchacho!

Luego fueron de puerta en puerta, hasta que los siguieron los otros doce, ninguno
de ellos demasiado agil, a causa de la oscuridad y el largo encierro. El corazon de



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Bilbo latia con violencia cada vez que uno de ellos tropezaba, grunia, o susurraba
en las tinieblas, — jMaldita sea este jaleo de enanos! — se dijo. Pero no ocurrio
nada desagradable, y no tropezaron con ningun guardia. En realidad, habia un
gran banquete otonal aquella noche en los bosques y en los salones de arriba.
Casi toda la gente del rey estaba de fiesta.

Al fin, luego de extraviarse varias veces, llegaron a la mazmorra de Thorin, bien
abajo, en un sitio profundo, y por fortuna no lejos de las bodegas.

— jQue te parece! — dijo Thorin, cuando Bilbo le susurro que saliera y se uniera a
los otros — . jGandalf dijo la verdad, como de costumbre! Eres un buen saqueador,
parece, cuando Mega el momento. Estoy seguro de que estaremos siempre a tu
servicio, ocurra lo que ocurra. Pero, <j,que viene ahora?

Bilbo entendio que habia llegado el momento de explicar el plan, dentro de lo
posible; aunque no sabia muy bien como reaccionarian los enanos. Estos temores
estaban bastante justificados, pues lo que el les dijo no les gusto y se pusieron a
refunfuhar y a gritar a pesar del peligro.

— jNos magullaremos y nos haremos pedazos, y nos ahogaremos tambien,
seguro! — dijeron — . Crefmos que habias ideado algo sensato cuando te
apoderaste de las Naves. jEsto es una locura!

— jMuy bien! — dijo Bilbo desanimado, y tambien bastante molesto — . Regresad a
vuestras agradables celdas, os encerrare otra vez, y alii podreis sentaros
comodamente y pensar en un plan mejor... aunque supongo que no conseguire de
nuevo las Naves, aun cuando me sintiese con ganas de intentarlo.

Aquello fue demasiado para ellos, y se calmaron. Al final, desde luego, tuvieron
que hacer exactamente lo que Bilbo habia sugerido, pues era obviamente
imposible buscar y encontrar el camino en los salones de arriba, o luchar y salir
cruzando unas puertas que se cerraban por arte de magia; y no era bueno
refunfuhar en los pasadizos y esperar a que los capturasen otra vez. De modo que
siguiendo con cautela al hobbit, fueron a las bodegas de abajo. Pasaron ante la
puerta de la bodega donde el jefe de los guardias y el mayordomo todavia
roncaban felices con rostros sonrientes. El vino de Dorwinion produce suehos
profundos y agradables. Habria una expresion diferente en la cara del jefe de los
guardias al otro dia, aun cuando Bilbo, antes de continuar, se deslizo sigiloso y
amablemente le puso las Naves de vuelta en el cinturon.

— Eso le ahorrara alguno de los problemas en que esta metido — se dijo — . No era
un mal muchacho, y trato con decencia a los prisioneros. Quedaran muy
desconcertados. Pensaran que teniamos una magia muy poderosa para traspasar
las puertas cerradas y desaparecer. jDesaparecer! jTenemos que darnos prisa, si
queremos que asi sea!

Se encargo a Balin que vigilase al guardia y al mayordomo, y avisara si hacian
algun movimiento. El resto entro en la bodega aledaha, donde estaban las
escotillas. Habia poco tiempo que perder. En breve, como sabia Bilbo, algunos
elfos bajarian a ayudar al mayordomo en la tarea de pasar los barriles vacios por
las puertas y echarlos al no. Los barriles estaban ya dispuestos en hileras en



113



medio del suelo, aguardando a que los empujasen. Algunos eran barriles de vino,
y no muy utiles, pues no podian abrirse por el fondo sin hacer ruido, ni cerrarse de
nuevo con facilidad. Pero habia algunos que habian servido para traer otras
mercancias, mantequilla, manzanas y toda suerte de cosas, al palacio del rey.

Pronto encontraron trece cubas con espacio suficiente para un enano en cada
una. En verdad, algunas eran demasiado grandes, y los enanos pensaron con
angustia en las sacudidas y topetazos que soportarian dentro, aunque Bilbo busco
paja y otros materiales para empacarlos lo mejor que pudo, en tan corto tiempo.
Por ultimo, doce enanos estuvieron dentro de los barriles. Thorin habia causado
muchas dificultades, y daba vueltas y se retorcia en la cuba, y grunia como perro
grande en perrera pequena; mientras que Balin, que fue el ultimo, levanto un gran
alboroto a proposito de los agujeros para respirar, y dijo que se estaba ahogando
aun antes de que taparan el barril. Bilbo habia tratado de cerrar los agujeros en los
costados de los barriles y sujetar bien todas las tapaderas, y ahora se encontraba
de nuevo solo, corriendo alrededor, dando los ultimos toques al embalaje, y
aguardando contra toda esperanza que el plan no fracasara.

Habia concluido con el tiempo justo. Solo uno 6 dos minutos despues de encajar
la tapadera de Balin, llego un sonido de voces y un parpadeo de luces. Algunos
elfos venian riendo y charlando y cantando a las bodegas. Habian dejado un
alegre festin en uno de los salones y estaban resueltos a retornar tan pronto como
les fuese posible.

— ^Donde esta el viejo Galion, el mayordomo? — dijo uno — . No lo he visto a la
mesa esta noche. Tendria que encontrarse aqui ahora, para mostrarnos lo que
hay que hacer.

— Me enfadare si el viejo perezoso se retrasa — dijo Otro — jNo tengo ganas de
perder el tiempo aqui abajo mientras se canta alia arriba!

— jJa, ja! — llego una carcajada — jAqui esta el viejo tunante con la cabeza metida
en un jarro! Ha estado montando un pequeho banquete para el y su amigo el
capitan.

— jSacudelo! jDespiertalo! — gritaron los otros, impacientes.

A Galion no le gusto nada que lo sacudieran y despertaran, y mucho menos que
se rieran de el. — Estais retrasados — gruho — . Aqui estoy yo, esperando y
esperando, mientras vosotros bebeis y festejais y olvidais vuestras tareas. jNo os
maraville que caiga dormido de aburrimiento!

— No nos maravilla — dijeron ellos — , jcuando la explication esta tan cerca en un
jarro! jVamos, dejanos probar tu soporifero antes de que comencemos la tarea!
No es necesario despertar al joven de las Haves. Por lo que parece, ha tenido su
ration.

Bebieron entonces una ronda, y de repente todos se pusieron muy contentos.
Pero no perdieron por completo la cabeza. — jSalvanos, Galion! — grito alguien — .
jEmpezaste la fiesta temprano y se te emboto el juicio! Has apilado aqui algunos
toneles llenos en lugar de los vacios, a juzgar por lo que pesan.



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— jContinuad con el trabajo! — gruno el mayordomo — Los brazos ociosos de un
levantacopas nada saben de pesos. Estos son los que hay que llevar y no otros.
jHaced lo que digo!

— jEsta bien, esta bien! — le respondieron haciendo rodar los barriles hasta la
abertura — . jTu seras el responsable si las cubas de mantequilla del rey y el vino
mejor son empujados al no para que los hombres del lago se regalen gratis!



i Rueda — rueda — rueda — rueda,
rueda — rueda — rueda bajando a la cueva!
jLevantad, arriba, que caigan a plomo!
Alia abajo van, chocando en el fondo.

Asi cantaban, mientras primero uno, y luego otro, los barriles bajaban retumbando
a la oscura abertura y eran empujados hacia las aguas Mas que corrian unos pies
mas abajo. Algunos eran barriles realmente vacios; algunos eran cubas bien
cerradas con un enano dentro; todos cayeron, uno tras otro, golpeando y
entrechocandose, precipitandose en el agua, sacudiendose contra las paredes del
tunel, y flotando lejos corriente abajo.

Fue entonces precisamente cuando Bilbo descubrio de pronto el punto debil del
plan. Seguro que ya os disteis cuenta hace tiempo, y os habeis reido de el; pero
no creo que hubierais conseguido ni la mitad de lo que el consiguio. jPor
supuesto, el no estaba en ningun barril, ni habia nadie alii para empacarlo, aun si
se hubiera presentado la oportunidad! Parecia como si esta vez fuese a perder de
veras a sus amigos (ya habian desaparecido casi todos a traves de la escotilla
oscura), que lo dejarian atras para siempre, de modo que el tendria que quedarse
alii escondido, como un saqueador sempitemo de las cuevas de los elfos. Pues
aun si hubiera podido escapar en seguida por los portones superiores, no tenia
muchas posibilidades de reencontrarse con los enanos. No sabia como llegar al
sitio donde recogian los barriles. Se pregunto que demonios les ocurriria sin el;
pues no habia tenido tiempo de contar a los enanos todo lo que habia averiguado,
o lo que se habia; propuesto hacer, una vez fuera del bosque.

Mientras todos estos pensamientos le cruzaban por la mente, los elfos, que
parecian ahora muy animados, comenzaron a entonar una cancion junto a la
puerta del no. Algunos habian ido ya a tirar de las cuerdas que alzaban la
compuerta para dejar salir a los barriles tan pronto como todos flotaran abajo.

jBajas la rapida corriente oscura
de vuelta a tierras que antaho conociste!
Deja las salas y cavernas profundas.
las escarpadas montahas del norte,



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en donde el bosque tenebroso y ancho

en sombras grises y hoscas se inclina.

Mas alia de este mundo de arboles

flota saliendo hacia la brisa,

mas alia de las canadas y los juncos,

mas alia de las hierbas del pantano,

en la neblina blanca que asciende

del lago nocturno y de los charcos.

jSigue, sigue a las estrellas que asoman

arriba en cielos frios y empinados,

gira con el alba sobre la tierra,

sobre la arena, sobre los rapidos!

jLejos al Sur, y mas lejos al Sur!

jBusca la luz del sol y la del dia,

de vuelta a los pastos, y a los prados,

que vacas y bueyes apacentan!

jDe vuelta a los jardines de las lomas

donde las bayas crecen y maduran

bajo la luz del sol y bajo el dia!

i Lejos al Sur, mas lejos al Sur!

jBajas la rapida corriente oscura

de vuelta, a tierras que antano conociste!



jYa el ultimo de los barriles iba rodando hacia las puertas! Desesperado, y no
sabiendo que hacer, el pobre pequeho Bilbo se aferro al barril y fue empujado con
el sobre el borde. Cayo abajo en el agua fria y oscura, con el barril encima, y subio
otra vez balbuceando y arahando la madera corno una rata, pero a pesar de todos
sus esfuerzos no pudo trepar. Cada vez que lo intentaba, el barril daba una media
vuelta y lo sumergia otra vez. El barril estaba realmente vacio, y flotaba como un
corcho. Aunque Bilbo tenia las orejas llenas de agua, aun podia oir a los elfos,
cantando arriba en la bodega. Entonces, de subito, las escotillas cayeron y las
voces se desvanecieron a lo lejos. Bilbo estaba ahora en un tunel oscuro, flotando
en el agua helada, completamente solo... pues no puedes contar con amigos que
flotan encerrados en barriles.

Muy pronto una mancha gris aparecio delante, en la oscuridad. Oyo el chirrido de
la compuerta que se levantaba, y se encontro en medio de una fluctuante y



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entrechocante masa de toneles y cubas, todos empujan do juntos para pasar por
debajo del arco y salir a las aguas del no. Trato por todos los medios de impedir
que lo golpearan y machacaran; pero al fin, los barriles apinados comenzaron a
dispersarse y a balancearse, uno por uno, bajo la arcada de piedra y mas alia.
Entonces Bilbo vio que no le habria servido de mucho si hubiese subido a
horcajadas sobre el barril, pues apenas habia espacio, ni siquiera para un hobbit,
entre el barril y el techo ahora inclinado de la compuerta.

Fuera salieron, bajo las lamas que colgaban desde las dos orillas. Bilbo se
preguntaba que sentirian en ese momento los enanos, y si no estaria entrando
agua en las cubas. Algunas de las que pasaban flotando en la oscuridad, junto a
el, parecian bastante hundidas en el agua, y supuso que llevarian enanos dentro.

"jEspero haber ajustado bastante las tapas!" penso, pero en seguida estuvo
demasiado preocupado por si mismo para acordarse de los enanos, Conseguia
mantener la cabeza sobre el agua de algun modo, la suerte cambiase, cuanto
tiempo seria capaz de resistir, y si podia correr el riesgo de soltarse e intentar
nadar hasta la orilla.

La suerte cambio de pronto: la corriente arremolinada arrastro varios barriles a un
punto de la ribera, y alii se quedaron un rato, varados contra alguna raiz oculta.
Bilbo aprovecho entonces la ocasion para trepar por el costado del barril apoyado
firmemente contra, otro. Subio arrastrandose como una rata ahogada, y se tendio
arriba, tratando de mantener el equilibrio. La brisa era fria, pero mejor que el agua,
y esperaba no caer rodando de repente.

Los barriles pronto quedaron libres otra vez y giraron y dieron vueltas no abajo,
saliendo a la corriente principal. Bilbo descubrio entonces que era muy dificil
mantenerse sobre el barril, tal como habia temido, y ademas se sentia bastante
incomodo. Por fortuna, Bilbo era muy liviano, y el barril grande, y bastante
deteriorado, de modo que habia embarcado una pequeha cantidad de agua. Aun
asi, era como cabalgar sin brida ni estribos un poney panzudo que no pensara en
Otra cosa que en revolcarse sobre la hierba.

De este modo el sehor Bolson llego por fin a un lugar donde los arboles raleaban a
ambos lados. Alcanzaba a ver el cielo palido entre ellos. El no oscuro se ensancho
de pronto, y se unio al curso principal del Rio del Bosque, que fluia
precipitadamente desde los grandes portones del rey. En la movil superficie de
una extension de agua que las sombras ya no cubrian, se reflejaban las nubes y
las estrellas en luces danzantes y rotas. Las rapidas aguas del Rio del Bosque
llevaron toda la compahia de toneles y cubas a la ribera norte, donde habian
abierto una ancha bahia. Esta tenia una playa. de guijarros al pie del barranco, y
estaba cerrada en el extremo oriental por un pequeno cabo sobresaliente de roca
dura. Muchos de los barriles encallaron en los bajios arenosos, aunque unos
pocos fueron a golpear contra el dique de roca.

Habia gente vigilando las riberas. Empujaron rapidamente y movieron con pertigas
todos los barriles hacia los bajios, y los contaron y ataron juntos y los dejaron alii
hasta la mahana. jPobres enanos! Bilbo no estaba tan mal ahora. Bajo
deslizandose del barril, y vadeo el no hasta la orilla, y luego se escurrio hacia



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algunas cabanas que alcanzaba a ver cerca del no. Si tenia la Oportunidad de
tomar una cena sin invitacion, esta vez no lo pensaria mucho; se habia visto
obligado a hacerlo durante mucho tiempo, y ahora sabia demasiado bien lo que
era tener verdadera hambre, y no solo un amable interes por las delicadezas de
una despensa bien provista. Habia llegado a ver la luz de un fuego entre los
arboles, y era una luz atractiva; las ropas caladas y andrajosas se le pegaban Mas
y humedas al cuerpo.

No es necesario contaros mucho de las aventuras de Bilbo aquella noche, pues
nos estamos acercando ya al termino del viaje hacia el este, y llegando a la ultima
y mayor aventura, de modo que hemos de darnos prisa. Ayudado, como es
natural, por el anillo magico, a Bilbo le fue muy bien al principio, pero al cabo fue
traicionado por sus pisadas humedas y el rastro de gotas que iba dejando
dondequiera que fuese o se sentase; y luego se puso a lagrimear, y cuando
intentaba ocultarse era descubierto por las terribles explosiones de unos
estornudos contenidos. Muy pronto hubo una gran conmocion en la villa ribereha;
mas Bilbo escapo hacia los bosques llevando una hogaza y un pellejo de vino y un
pastel que no le pertenecfan. El resto de la noche tuvo que pasarla mojado como
estaba y sin fuego, pero el pellejo de vino lo ayudo, y hasta alcanzo a dormitar un
rato sobre unas hojas secas, aunque el ano estaba avanzado y el aire era
cortante.

Desperto de nuevo con un estornudo especialmente ruidoso. La mahana era gris,
y habia un alegre alboroto no abajo. Estaban construyendo una almadia de
barriles, y los elfos de la almadia la llevarian pronto aguas abajo hacia la Ciudad
del Lago. Bilbo estornudo otra vez. Las ropas ya no le chorreaban, pero tenia el
cuerpo helado. Descendio gateando tan rapido como se lo permitian las piernas
entumecidas, y logro alcanzar justo a tiempo el grupo de toneles sin que nadie se
diera cuenta en la confusion general. Por suerte, no habia sol entonces que
proyectase una sombra reveladora, y por misericordia no estornudo otra vez
durante un buen rato.

Hubo un poderoso movimiento de pertigas. Los elfos que estaban en los bajios
impelian y empujaban. Los barriles, ahora amarrados entre si, se rozaban y
crujian.

— jEs una carga pesada! — gruhian algunos — . Flotan muy bajos... algunos no
estan del todo vacios. Si hubiesen llegado a la luz del dia podriamos haberles
echado una ojeada — dijeron.

— jYa no hay tiempo! — grito el elfo de la almadia — . jEmpujad!

Y alia fueron por fin, lentamente al principio, hasta que dejaron atras el cabo
rocoso, donde otros elfos esperaban para apartarlos con pertigas, y luego mas y
mas rapido cuando entraron en la corriente principal, y navegaron y fueron
alejandose, aguas abajo, hacia el Lago.

Habian escapado de las mazmorras del rey y habian atravesado el bosque, pero
si vivos o muertos, todavia estaba por verse.



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UNA CALIDA BIENVENIDA

El dia crecia mas claro y caluroso a medida que avanzaban flotando. Luego de un
corto trecho, el no rodeaba a la izquierda un repecho de tierra escarpada. Al pie
de la pared rocosa que se alzaba como un risco en una llanura, la corriente mas
profunda fluia lamiendo y borboteando. De repente el risco se estrecho. Las orillas
se hundieron. Los arboles desaparecieron. Bilbo miro.

Las tierras se abrian amplias alrededor, cubiertas por las aguas del no que se
perdia y se Bifurcaba en un centenar de cursos zigzagueantes, o se estancaba en
remansos y pantanos con islotes a los lados; pero aun asi, una fuerte corriente
seguia su curso regular.

jY alia, a lo lejos, mostrando la cima oscura entre retazos de nubes, alia
amenazadora, asomaba la Montana! Los picos mas proximos de la zona noroeste
y el hundido valle que los unfa no alcanzaban a distinguirse. Sola y adusta, la
Montana contemplaba el bosque por encima de los pantanos. jLa Montana
Solitaria! Bilbo habia viajado mucho y habia pasado muchas aventuras para verla,
y ahora no le gustaba nada.

Mientras escuchaba la conversacion de los elfos en la almadia, e hilaba los
pedazos de informacion que dejaban caer, pronto comprendio que era muy
afortunado por haberla visto, aun desde lejos. Habia sufrido mucho cuando cayo
prisionero, y ahora no encontraba una postura comoda (por no mencionar a los
pobres enanos debajo de el), y sin embargo no se habia dado cuenta de la suerte
que habia tenido. La conversacion se referia solo al comercio que iba y venia por
los canales y al incremento del trafico en el no, pues las carreteras del este que
conducian al Bosque Negro habian desaparecido o dejaron de utilizarse; y
ademas los Hombres del Lago y los Elfos del Bosque se habian disputado el
dominio del Rio del Bosque y el cuidado de las riberas. Estos territorios habian
cambiado mucho desde los dias en que los enanos moraran en la Montana, dias
que para la mayoria de la gente solo eran ahora una vaga tradicion. Habian
cambiado aun en ahos recientes y desde las ultimas noticias que Gandalf tenia de
ellos. Inundaciones y lluvias habian aumentado el caudal de las aguas en el Este;
y habia habido uno o dos terremotos (que algunos se inclinaron a atribuir al
dragon, mientras sehalaban la Montana con una maldicion y un ominoso
movimiento de cabeza). Los pantanos y cienagas se habian extendido mas y mas
a ambos lados. Los senderos habian desaparecido, y los jinetes o caminantes
hubieran tenido un destino similar si hubiesen intentado encontrar los viejos
caminos. El sendero elfo que cruzaba el bosque y que los enanos habian tornado
siguiendo el consejo de Beorn, ahora llegaba a un dudoso e insolito final en el
borde oriental del bosque; solo el no era aun un trayecto seguro desde el linde
norte del Bosque Negro hasta las lejanas planicies sombreadas por la Montana; y
el no estaba vigilado por el rey de los Elfos del Bosque.

Asi que como veis, Bilbo habia tornado al final el unico camino que era en realidad
bueno. El sehor Bolson hubiera podido sentirse reconfortado, mientras temblaba
sobre los barriles, si hubiese sabido que noticias de todo esto habian llegado a
Gandalf alia lejos, preocupandolo de veras, y que estaba a punto de acabar otro



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asunto (que no viene a cuento mencionar en este relato) y se disponia a regresar
en busca de la gente de Thorin. Pero Bilbo no lo sabia.

Todo cuanto sabia era que el no parecia seguir y seguir y seguir, y que el tenia
hambre, y un horroroso resfriado de nariz, y que no le gustaba como la Montana
parecia fruncir el ceno y amenazarlo a medida que se acercaban. Sin embargo, al
cabo de un rato, el no tomo un curso mas meridional y la Montana retrocedio de
nuevo, y al fin, ya caida la tarde, entre orillas ahora de rocas, el no reunio todas
sus aguas errantes en un profundo y rapido flujo, y descendio precipitadamente.

El sol ya se habia puesto cuando luego de un recodo y de bajar otra vez hacia el
este, el Rio del Bosque se precipito en el Lago Largo. Las puertas del no se
alzaban como altos acantilados, a un lado y a otro, con guijarros apilados en las
orillas. jEl Lago Largo! Bilbo nunca habia imaginado que pudiera haber una
extension de agua tan enorme, excepto el mar. Era tan ancho que las margenes
opuestas asomaban apenas a lo lejos, y tan largo que no se veia el extremo norte,
que apuntaba a la Montana. Solo por el mapa supo Bilbo que alia arriba, donde las
estrellas del Carro ya titilaban, el Rio Rapido descendia desde el valle
desembocando en el Lago, y junto con el Rio del Bosque colmaba con aguas
profundas lo que una vez tenia que haber sido un valle de piedra grande y hondo.
En el extremo meridional las dobles aguas se vertian de nuevo en al tas cascadas
y corrian de prisa hacia tierras desconocidas, En el aire tranquilo del anochecer el
ruido de las cascadas resonaba como un bramido distante.

No lejos de la boca del Rio del Bosque se alzaba la extraha ciudad de la que
hablaran los elfos, en las bodegas del rey. No estaba emplazada en la orilla,
aunque habia alii unas cuantas cabanas y construcciones, sino sobre la superficie
misma del Lago, en una apacible bahia protegida de los remolinos del no por un
promontorio de roca.

Un gran puente de madera se extendia hasta unos enormes troncos que
sostenian una bulliciosa ciudad tambien de madera, no una ciudad de Elfos sino
de Hombres, que aun se atrevian a vivir a la sombra de la distante Montana del
dragon. Sacaban aun algun provecho del trafico que venia desde el Sur, no arriba,
y que en el trayecto de las cascadas era transportado por tierra hasta la ciudad;
pero en los grandes dias de antaho, cuando el Valle Norte era rico y prospero,
ellos habian sido poderosos hombres de fortuna; vastas flotas de barcos habian
poblado aquellas aguas, y algunos llevaban oro y otros guerreros con armaduras,
y alii se habian conocido guerras y hazahas que ahora eran solo una leyenda. A lo
largo de las orillas podian verse aun los pilotes carcomidos de una ciudad mas
grande, cuando bajaban las aguas, durante las sequias.

Pero los hombres poco recordaban de todo aquello, aunque algunos todavia
cantaban viejas canciones sobre los reyes enanos de la Montana, Thror y Thrain
de la raza de Durin, y sobre la llegada del Dragon y la caida de los Sehores de
Valle. Algunos cantaban tambien que Thror y Thrain volverian un dia, y que el oro
correria en rios por las compuertas de la Montana, y que en todo aquel pais se
oirian canciones nuevas y risas nuevas. Pero esta agradable leyenda no afectaba
mucho los asuntos cotidianos de los hombres.



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Tan pronto como la almadia de barriles aparecio a la vista, unos botes salieron
remando desde los pilotes de la ciudad, y unas voces saludaron a los timoneles.
Los elfos arrojaron cuerdas y retiraron los remos, y pronto la balsa fue arrastrada
fuera de la corriente del Rio del Bosque, y luego remolcada, bajo el alto repecho
rocoso hasta la pequena bahia de la Ciudad del Lago. Alii la amarraron no lejos de
la cabecera del puente. Pronto vendrian hombres del Sur y se llevarian algunos de
los barriles, y otros los cargarian con mercancias que habian traido consigo para
devolverlas no arriba a la morada de los Elfos del Bosque. Mientras tanto los
barriles quedaron en el agua, y los elfos de la almadia y los barqueros fueron a
celebrarlo en la Ciudad del Lago.

Se hubieran sorprendido si hubiesen visto lo que ocurrio alia abajo en la orilla
despues de que se fueran, ya caida la noche. Bilbo solto ante todo un barril y lo
empujo hasta la orilla, donde lo abrio. Se oyeron unos quejidos y un enano de
aspecto lastimoso salio arrastrandose. Unas pajas humedas se le habian
enredado en la barba enmarahada; estaba tan dolorido y entumecido, con tantas
magulladuras y cardenales, que apenas pudo sostenerse en pie y atravesar a
tumbos el agua poco profunda; y siguio lamentandose tendido en la orilla. Tenia
una mirada famelica y salvaje, como la de un perro encadenado y olvidado en la
perrera toda una semana. Era Thorin, aunque solo podriais reconocerlo por la
cadena de oro y por el color del capuchon celeste, ahora sucio y andrajoso, con la
borla de plata deslustrada. Tuvo que pasar algun tiempo antes de que volviese a
ser amable con el hobbit.

— Bien, estas vivo o muerto? — pregunto Bilbo un tanto malhumorado. Quiza habia
olvidado que el por lo menos habia tenido una buena comida mas que los enanos,
y tambien los brazos y piernas libres, y no hablemos de la mayor racion de aire — .
<j,Estas todavia preso, o libre? Si quieres comida, y si quieres continuar con esta
estupida aventura (es tuya al fin y al cabo, y no mia), mejor sera que sacudas los
brazos, te frotes las piernas e intentes ayudarme a sacar a los demas, mientras
sea posible.

Por supuesto, Thorin entendio la sensatez de estas palabras, y luego de unos
cuantos quejidos mas, se incorporo y ayudo al hobbit lo mejor que pudo. En la
oscuridad, chapoteando en el agua fria, tuvieron una dificil y muy desagradable
tarea tratando de dar con los barriles de los en? nos. Dando golpes fuera y
llamandolos, solo descubrieron a unos seis enanos capaces de contestar. A estos
los desembalaron y ayudaron a alcanzar la orilla, y alii los dejaron, sentados o
tumbados, quejandose y gruhendo. Estaban tan doloridos, entumecidos y
empapados que apenas si alcanzaban a darse cuenta de que los habian liberado
o de que habia, razones para que se mostraran agradecidos.

Dwalin y Balin eran dos de los mas desafortunados, y no valia la pena pedirles
ayuda. Bifur y Bofur estaban menos magullados y mas secos, pero permanecian
tumbados y no hacian nada. Fili y Kili, sin embargo, que eran jovenes (para un
enano) y que ademas habian sido mejor embalados, con paja abundante y en
toneles mas pequehos, emergieron casi sonrientes, con alguna que otra
magulladura y un entumecimiento que pronto les desaparecio.



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— jEspero no oler nunca mas una manzana! — dijo Fili — . Mi cuba estaba toda
impregnada de ese aroma. No oler ninguna otra cosa que manzanas cuando
apenas puedes moverte y estas helado y enfermo de hambre, es enloquecedor.
Me comeria hoy cualquier cosa de todo el ancho mundo durante horas y horas...
ipero nunca una manzana!

Con la voluntariosa ayuda de Fili y Kili, Thorin y Bilbo descubrieron al fin al resto
de la compama y los sacaron de los barriles. El pobre gordo Bombur parecia
dormido o inconsciente; Dori, Nori, Oh, 6in y Gloin habian tragado mucha agua y
estaban medio muertos. Tuvieron que transportarlos uno a uno y depositaries en
la orilla.

— jBien! jAqui estamos! — dijo Thorin — . Y supongo que tenemos que agradecerlo
a nuestras estrellas y al sehor Bolson. Estoy seguro de que tiene derecho a
esperarlo, aunque desearia que hubiese organizado un viaje mas comodo. No
obstante... todos a vuestro servicio una vez mas, sehor Bolson. Sin duda alguna
nos sentiremos debidamente agradecidos cuando hayamos comido y nos
recuperemos. <j,Que hacemos mientras tanto?

— "Yo propondria la Ciudad del Lago — dijo Bilbo — . «j,Que otra cosa se puede
hacer?

Nadie, desde luego, pudo proponer algo distinto; asi que dejando a los otros,
Thorin y Fili y Kili y el hobbit siguieron la orilla hasta el puente. A la cabecera habia
guardias, aunque la vigilancia no parecia muy estricta, y no era realmente
necesaria desde hacia mucho tiempo. Excepto por ocasionales rihas a causa de
los peajes del no, eran amigos de los Elfos del Bosque. Otros pueblos estaban
muy lejos, y algunos de los mas jovenes de la ciudad ponian abiertamente en
duda la existencia de cualquier dragon en la Montana, y se burlaban de los
barbigrises y vejetes que decian haberlo visto volar por el cielo en sus arios
mozos. Por todo esto, no es de extrahar que los guardias estuviesen bebiendo y
riendo junto al fuego dentro de la cabana, y no oyesen el ruido de los enanos que
eran desembala dos, 6 los pasos de los cuatro exploradores. El asombro de los
guardias fue enorme cuando Thorin Escudo de Roble cruzo la puerta.

— iQuien eres y que quieres? — gritaron poniendose en pie de un salto y
buscando a tientas las armas.

— jThorin hijo de Thrain hijo de Thror, Rey bajo la Montana! — dijo el enano con
voz recia, y realmente pa — parecia un rey, aun con aquellas rasgadas vestiduras y
el mugriento capuchon. El oro le brillaba en el cuello y en la cintura; y tenia ojos
oscuros y profundos — . He regresado. jDeseo ver al gobemador de la ciudad!

Hubo entonces un tremendo alboroto. Algunos de los mas necios salieron
corriendo como si esperasen que la Montana se convirtiese en oro por la noche y
todas las aguas del Lago se pusiesen amarillas de un momento a otro. El capitan
de la guardia se adelanto.

— lY quienes son estos? — pregunto sehalando u Fili, Kili y Bilbo.

— Los hijos de la hija de mi padre — respondio Thorin — . Fili y Kili de la raza de
Durin, y el sehor Bolson que ha viajado con nosotros desde el Oeste.



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— jSi venis en paz arrojad las armas! — dijo el capitan.

— No tenemos armas — dijo Thorin, y era bastante cieno: los cuchillos se los
habian sacado los Elfos del Bosque, y tambien la gran espada Orcrist. Bilbo tenia
su daga, oculta como siempre, pero no hablo — No necesitamos armas, volvemos
por fin a nuestros dominios, como se decia en otro tiempo. No podriamos luchar
contra tantos. jLlevanos al gobernador!

— Esta en una fiesta — dijo el capitan.

— Mas motivo entonces para que nos lleves a el — estallo Fili, ya impaciente con
tanta solemnidad — Estamos agotados y hambrientos despues de un largo viaje y
tenemos camaradas enfermos. Ahora date prisa y no charlemos mas, o tu senor
tendra algo que decirte.

— Seguidme entonces — dijo el capitan, y rodeandolos con seis de sus hombres
los condujo por el puente, a traves de las puertas, hasta el mercado de la ciudad.
Este era un amplio circulo de agua tranquila rodeada por altos pilotes sobre los
que se levantaban las casas mas grandes, y por largos muelles de madera con
escalones y escalerillas que descendian a la superficie del lago. De una de las
casas llegaba el resplandor de muchas luces y el sonido de muchas voces.
Cruzaron las puertas y se quedaron parpadeando a la luz, mirando las largas
mesas en las que se apretaba la gente.

— jSoy Thorin hijo de Thrain hijo de Thror, Rey bajo la Montana! jHe regresado! —
grito Thorin con voz recia desde la puerta, antes de que el capitan pudiese hablar.

Todos se pusieron en pie de un salto. El gobernador de la ciudad se movio
nervioso en la gran silla. Pero nadie se levanto con mayor sorpresa que los elfos,
sentados al fondo de la sala. Precipitandose hacia la mesa del gobernador gritaron
juntos;

— jEstos son prisioneros de nuestro rey que han escapado, enanos errantes y
vagabundos que ni siquiera pudieron decir nada bueno de si mismos y que
merodean por los bosques y molestan a nuestra gente!

— <j,Es eso cierto? — pregunto e! gobernador. En realidad esto le parecia mas
probable que el regreso del Rey bajo la Montana, si semejante persona habia
existido alguna vez.

— Es cierto que el Rey Elfo nos hizo prisioneros por error y nos encarcelo sin
causa alguna, cuando regresabamos a nuestro pais — respondio Thorin — . Mas ni
can dados ni barrotes pueden impedir el retorno anunciado antaho, y no estamos
en los dominios de los Elfos del Bosque. Hablo al gobernador de la ciudad de los
Hombres del Lago, no a los almadieros del rey.

El gobernador titubeo entonces, mirando a unos y otros. El Rey Elfo era muy
poderoso en aquellas tierras y el gobernador no deseaba enemistarse con el;
ademas no prestaba mucha atencion a canciones antiguas, entregado como
estaba al comercio y a los peajes, a los cargamentos y al oro, habitos a los que
debia su posicion. Otros, sin embargo, pensaban de un modo muy distinto, y el
asunto se soluciono rapidamente sin que el gobernador interviniera. Las noticias



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se habian difundido desde las puertas del palacio por toda la ciudad, como si se
tratase de un incendio. La gente gritaba dentro y fuera de la sala. Unos pasos
apresurados recorrian los muelles. Alguien empezo a cantar trozos de viejas
canciones que hablaban del regreso del Rey bajo la Montana; que fuese el nieto
de Thror y no Thror en persona quien estaba alii, no parecia molestarles. Otros
entonaron la cancion que rodo alta y fuerte sobre el lago.

jEl Rey bajo la Montana,

el Rey de piedra tallada,

el senor de fuentes de plata,

jregresara a sus tierras!

Sostendran alta la corona,

taneran otra vez el arpa,

cantaran otra vez las canciones,

habra ecos de oro en las salas.



Los bosques ondularan en montanas,

y las hierbas, a la luz del sol;

y las riquezas manaran en fuentes,

y los rios en corrientes doradas.

jAlborozados correran los rios,

los lagos brillaran como llamas,

cesaran los dolores y las penas,

cuando regrese el Rey de la Montana!

Asi cantaban, o algo parecido, aunque la cancion era mucho mas larga, y fue
acompanada con gritos y musica de arpas y violines. Y en verdad, ni el mas viejo
de los abuelos recordaba semejante algarabia en la Ciudad del Lago. Los propios
Elfos del Bosque empezaron a titubear y aun a tener miedo. No sabian, por
supuesto, como Thorin habia escapado, y se decian quiza que el Rey habia
cometido un grave error. En cuanto al gobernador de la ciudad, comprendio que
no podia hacer otra cosa que sumarse a aquel clamor tumultuoso, al menos por el
momento, y fingir que aceptaba lo que Thorin decia que era. De modo que lo invito
a sentarse en la silla grande, y puso a Fili y a Kili junto a el en sitios de honor. Aun
a Bilbo se le dio un lugar en la mesa alta, y nadie explico de donde venia (ninguna
cancion se referia a el, ni siquiera de un modo oscuro), ni nadie lo pregunto en el
bullicio general.



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Poco despues trajeron a los demas enanos a la. ciudad entre escenas de
asombroso entusiasmo. Todos fueron curados y alimentados, alojados y
agasajados del modo mas amable y satisfactorio. Una casa enorme fue cedida a
Thorin y a los suyos; y luego les proporcionaron barcos y remeros, y una multitud
se sento a las pu el bosque, salieron dia tras dia a buscar unos senderos
que subiesen por la ladera de la montana. Si el mapa decia la verdad, en alguna
parte de la cima del risco, en la cabeza del valle, tenia que estar la puerta secreta.
Dia tras dia volvian sin exito al campamento.

Pero, por fin, de modo inesperado, encontraron lo que buscaban. Fili, Kili y el
hobbit volvieron un dia valle abajo y gatearon entre las rocas caidas del extremo
sur. Cerca del mediodia, arrastrandose detras de una piedra solitaria que se
alzaba como un pilar, Bilbo descubrio unos toscos escalones. El y los enanos
treparon excitados, y encontraron el rastro de una senda estrecha, a veces oculta,
a veces visible, que llevaba a la cresta sur, y luego hasta una saliente todavia mas
estrecha, que bordeaba hacia el norte la cara de la Montana. Mirando hacia abajo,
vieron que estaban en la punta del risco a la entrada del valle, y contemplaron su
propio campamento alia abajo. En silencio, pegandose a la pared rocosa de la
derecha, fueron en fila por el repecho hasta que la pared se abrio, y entraron
entonces en una pequeha nave de paredes abruptas y suelo cubierto de hierbas,
tranquila y callada. La entrada no podia ser vista desde abajo, pues el risco
sobresalia, ni desde lejos, pues era tan pequeha que parecia solo una grieta
oscura. No era una cueva y se abria hacia el cielo; pero en el extremo mas interior
se elevaba una pared desnuda, y la parte inferior, cerca del suelo, era tan lisa y
vertical como obra de albahil, pero no se veian ensambladuras ni rendijas. Ni
rastros habia alii de postes, dinteles o umbrales, ni seha alguna de tranca, pestillo
o cerradura; y sin embargo no dudaron de que al fin habian encontrado la puerta.



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La golpearon, la empujaron de mil modos, le imploraron que se moviese, recitaron
trozos de encantamientos que abrian entradas secretas, y nada se movio. Por
ultimo, se tendieron exhaustos a descansar sobre la hierba, y luego, por la tarde,
emprendieron el largo descenso.

Esa noche hubo excitacion en el campamento del valle. Por la manana se
prepararon a marchar otra vez. Solo Bofur y Bombur quedaron atras para que
guardaran los poneys y las provisiones que habian traido desde el no. Los otros
bajaron al valle y subieron por el sendero descubierto el dia anterior, y asi hasta el
estrecho borde. Alii no llevaron bultos ni paquetes, pues la saliente era angosta y
peligrosa, con una caida al lado de ciento cincuenta pies sobre las rocas afiladas
del fondo; pero todos llevaban un buen rollo de cuerda bien atado a la cintura y
asi, sin ningun accidente, llegaron a la pequena nave de hierbas.

Alii acamparon por tercera vez, subiendo con las cuerdas lo que necesitaban.
Algunos de los enanos mas vigorosos, como Kili, descendieron a veces del mismo
modo, para intercambiar noticias o para relevar a la guardia de abajo, mientras
Bofur era izado al campamento. Bombur no subiria ni por la cuerda ni por el
sendero.

— Soy demasiado gordo para esos paseos de mosca — dijo — . Me marearia, me
pisaria la barba, y seriais trece otra vez. Y las cuerdas son demasiado delgadas y
no aguantarian mi peso. — Por fortuna para el, esto no era cierto, como vereis.

Mientras tanto algunos de los enanos exploraron el antepecho mas alia de la
abertura, y descubrieron un sendero que conducia montana arriba; pero no se
atrevieron a aventurarse muy lejos por ese camino, ni tampoco servia de mucho.
Fuera, alia arriba, reinaba el silencio, interrumpido solo por el ruido del viento entre
las grietas rocosas. Hablaban bajo y nunca gritaban o cantaban, pues el peligro
acechaba en cada piedra. Los otros, que trataban de descubrir el secreto de la
puerta, no tuvieron mas exito. Estaban demasiado ansiosos como para romperse
la cabeza con las runas o las letras lunares, pero trabajaron sin descanso
buscando la puerta escondida en la superficie lisa de la roca. Habian traido de la
Ciudad del Lago picos y herramientas de muchas clases y al principio trataron de
utilizarlos. Pero cuando golpearon la piedra, los mangos se hicieron astillas, y les
sacudieron cruelmente los brazos, y las cabezas de acero se rompieron o
doblaron como plomo. La mineria, como vieron claramente, no era util contra el
encantamiento que habia cerrado la puerta; y el ruido resonante los aterrorizo.

Bilbo se encontro sentado en el umbral, solo y aburrido. Por supuesto, en realidad
no habia umbral, pero llamaban asi en broma al espacio con hierba entre el muro
y la abertura, recordando las palabras de Bilbo en el agujero — hobbit durante la
tertulia inesperada, hacia tanto tiempo, cuando dijo que el podria sentarse en el
umbral hasta que ellos pensasen algo. Y sentarse y pensar fue lo que hicieron, o
divagar mas y mas a la buenaventura, y ponerse cada vez mas hurahos.

Los animos se habian levantado un poco con el descubrimiento del sendero, pero
ahora los tenian ya por los pies; pero ni aun asi iban a rendirse y marcharse. El
hobbit no estaba mucho mas contento que los enanos. No hacia nada, y sentado
de espaldas a la pared de piedra, miraba fijamente por la abertura hacia el



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poniente, por encima del risco y las amplias llanuras, hacia la pared del Bosque
Negro y las tierras de mas alia, en las que a veces creia ver reflejos de las
Montanas Nubladas, lejanas y pequenas. Si los enanos le preguntaban que estaba
haciendo, contestaba:

— Dijisteis que sentarme en el umbral y pensar seria mi trabajo, aparte de entrar;
asi que estoy sentado y pensando. — Pero me temo que no pensaba mucho en su
tarea, sino en lo que habia mas alia de la lejania azul, la tranquila Tierra del
Poniente, y el agujero — hobbit bajo La Colina.

Una piedra gris yacia en medio de la hierba y el la observaba melancolico o
miraba los grandes caracoles. Parecia que les gustaba la nave cerrada con muros
de piedra fria, y habia muchos de gran tamano que se arrastraban lenta y
obstinadamente por los lados.

— Mariana empieza la ultima semana de otono — dijo un dia Thorin.

— Y el invierno viene detras — dijo Bifur.

— Y luego otro ano — dijo Dwalin — , y nos creceran las barbas y colgaran riscos
abajo hasta el valle antes que aqui haya novedades. <j,Que hace por nosotros el
saqueador? Como tiene el anillo, y ya tendria que saber manejarlo muy bien, estoy
empezando a pensar que podria cruzar la Puerta Principal y reconocer un poco el
terreno.

Bilbo oyo esto (los enanos estaban en las rocas justo sobre el recinto donde el se
sentaba) y "jVaya!" se dijo.

"De modo que eso es lo que estan pensando, <j,no? Siempre soy yo el pobrecito
que tiene que sacarlos de dificultades, al menos desde que el mago nos dejo.
^Que voy a hacer? j Podia haber adivinado que algo espantoso me pasaria al
final! No creo que soporte ver otra vez el desgraciado pais de Valle y menos esa
puerta que echa vapor."

Esa noche se sintio muy triste y apenas durmio. Al dia siguiente los enanos se
dispersaron en varias direcciones; algunos estaban entrenando a los poneys alia
abajo, otros erraban por la ladera de la montana. Bilbo paso todo el dia abatido,
sentado en la nave de hierba, clavando los ojos en la piedra gris, o mirando hacia
afuera al oeste, a traves de la estrecha abertura. Tenia la rara impresion de que
estaba esperando algo. "Quiza el mago aparezca hoy de repente", pensaba.

Si levantaba la cabeza alcanzaba a ver el bosque lejano. Cuando el sol se inclino
hacia el oeste, hubo un destello amarillo sobre las copas de los arboles, como si la
luz se hubiese enredado en las ultimas hojas claras. Pronto vio el disco
anaranjado del sol que bajaba a la altura de sus ojos. Fue hacia la abertura y alii,
sobre el borde de la Tierra, habia una delgada luna nueva, palida y tenue.

En ese mismo momento oyo un graznido aspero. Detras, sobre la piedra gris en la
hierba, habia un zorzal enorme, negro casi como el carbon, el pecho amarillo
claro, salpicado de manchas oscuras. jCrac! Habia capturado un caracol y lo
golpeaba contra la piedra. jCrac! jCrac!



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De repente Bilbo entendio. Olvidando todo peligro, se incorporo y llamo a los
enanos, gritando y moviendose. Aquellos que estaban mas proximos se acercaron
tropezando sobre las rocas y tan rapido como podian a lo largo del antepecho,
preguntandose que demonios pasaba; los otros gritaron que los izaran con las
cuerdas (excepto Bombur, que por supuesto estaba dormido).

Bilbo se explico rapidamente. Todos guardaron silencio: el hobbit de pie junto a la
piedra gris, y los enanos observando impacientes, meneando las barbas. El sol
bajo y bajo, y las esperanzas menguaron. El sol se hundio en un anillo de nubes
enrojecidas y desaparecio. Los enanos gruneron, pero Bilbo siguio alii de pie, casi
sin moverse. La pequena luna estaba tocando el horizonte. Llegaba el anochecer.

Entonces, de modo inesperado, cuando ya casi no les quedaban esperanzas, un
rayo rojo de sol escapo como un dedo por el rasgon de una nube. El destello de
luz llego directamente a la nave atravesando la abertura y cayo sobre la lisa
superficie de roca. El viejo zorzal, que habia estado mirando desde lo alto con ojos
pequenos y brillantes, inclinando la cabeza, solto un sonoro gorjeo. Se oyo un
crujido. Un trozo de roca se desprendio de la pared y cayo. De repente aparecio
un orificio, a unos tres pies del suelo.

En seguida, temiendo que la oportunidad se esfumase, los enanos corrieron hacia
la roca y la empujaron, en vano.

— jLa Nave! jLa Nave! — grito Bilbo entonces — ^Donde esta Thorin?

Thorin se acerco de prisa.

— jLa Nave! — grito Bilbo — . jLa Nave que estaba con el mapa! jPrueba ahora,
mientras todavia hay tiempo!

Entonces Thorin se adelanto, quito la Nave de la cadena que le colgaba del cuello,
y la metio en el orificio. jEntraba y giraba! jZas! El rayo desaparecio, el sol se
oculto, la luna se fue, y el anochecer se extendio por el cielo.

Entonces todos empujaron a la vez, y una parte de la pared rocosa cedio
lentamente. Unas grietas largas y rectas aparecieron y se ensancharon. Una
puerta de tres pies de ancho y cinco de alto asomo poco a poco, y sin un sonido
se movio hacia adentro. Parecia como si la oscuridad fluyese como un vapor del
agujero de la montaha, y una densa negrura, en la que nada podia verse, se
extendio ante la compahia: una boca que bostezaba y llevaba adentro y abajo.

Durante un largo rato los enanos permanecieron inmoviles en la oscuridad ante la
puerta, y discutieron, hasta que al final Thorin hablo:

— Ha llegado el momento de que nuestro estimado sehor Bolson, que ha probado
ser un buen compahero en nuestro largo camino, y un hobbit de coraje y recursos
muy superiores a su talla, y si se me permite decirlo, con una buena suerte que
excede en mucho la racion comun, ha llegado el momento, digo, de que Neve a
cabo el servicio para el que fue incluido en la compahia; ha llegado el momento de
que el sehor Bolson gane su recompensa.

Estais familiarizados con el estilo de Thorin en las ocasiones importantes, de
modo que no os dare otras muestras, aunque continuo asi durante un tiempo. Por



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cierto, la ocasion era importante, pero Bilbo se impaciento. Por entonces ya
conocia bastante bien a Thorin, y sabia a donde iba a parar.

— Si quieres decir que mi trabajo es introducirme primero en el pasadizo secreto,
oh Thorin Escudo de Roble, hijo de Thrain, que tu barba sea todavia mas larga —
dijo malhumorado — . jDilo asi de una vez y se acabo! Podria rehusarme. Ya os he
sacado de dos aprietos que no creo que estuviesen en el convenio original, y me
parece que ya me he ganado alguna recompensa. Pero 'a la tercera va la vencida',
como mi padre solia decir, y en cierto modo no pienso rehusarme. Tal vez este
aprendiendo a confiar en mi buena suerte, mas que en los viejos tiempos. —
Queria decir en la ultima primavera, antes de dejar la casa de la colina, pero
parecia, que hubiesen pasado siglos, — Sin embargo creo que ire y echare un
vistazo en seguida, para terminar de una vez. Bien, ^quien viene conmigo?

No esperaba un coro de voluntarios, de modo que no se decepciono. Fili y Kili
parecian incomodos y vacilaban con un pie en el aire, pero los otros no se
inmutaron, excepto el viejo Balin, el vigia, quien se habia encarihado con el hobbit.
Dijo que al menos entraria, y tal vez recorriera tambien un trecho, dispuesto a
gritar socorro si era necesario.

Lo mejor que se puede decir de los enanos es lo siguiente: se proponian pagar
con generosidad los servicios de Bilbo; lo habian traido para hacer un trabajo que
les desagradaba, y no les importaba como se las arreglaria aquel pobre y pequeho
compahero, siempre que llevara a cabo la tarea. Hubieran hecho todo lo posible
por sacarlo de apuros, si se metia con ellos, como en el caso de los ogros, al
principio de la aventura, antes de que tuviesen una verdadera razon para sentirse
agradecidos. Asi es: los enanos no son heroes, sino gente calculadora, con una
idea precisa del valor del dinero; algunos son ladinos y falsos; y bastante malos
tipos; y otros en cambio son bastante decentes, como Thorin y compahia, si no se
les pide demasiado.

Las estrellas aparecian detras de el en un cielo palido cruzado por nubes negras,
cuando el hobbit se deslizo por el porton encantado y entro sigiloso en la Montana.
Avanzaba con una facilidad que no habia esperado. Esta no era una entrada de
trasgos, ni una tosca cueva de elfos. Era un pasadizo construido por enanos, en el
tiempo en que habian sido muy ricos y habiles: recto como una regla, de suelo y
paredes pulidas, descendia poco a poco y llevaba directamente a algun destino
distante en la oscuridad de abajo.

Al cabo de un rato Balin deseo — j Buena suerte! — y Bilbo se detuvo donde
todavia podia ver el tenue contorno de la puerta, y por alguna peculiaridad
acustica del tunel, oir el sonido de las voces que murmuraban afuera. Entonces el
hobbit se puso el anillo, y enterado por los ecos de que necesitaria ser mas
precavido que un hobbit, si no queria hacer ruido, se arrastro en silencio hacia
abajo, abajo, abajo en la oscuridad. Iba temblando de miedo, pero con una
expresion firme y cehuda en la cara menuda. Ya era un hobbit muy distinto del que
habia escapado corriendo de Bolson Cerrado sin un pahuelo de bolsillo. No tenia
un pahuelo de bolsillo desde hacia siglos. Aflojo la daga en la vaina, se apreto el
cinturon y prosiguio.



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"Ahora ya estas dentro y alia vas, Bilbo Bolson", se dijo, "Tu mismo metiste la pata
justo a tiempo aquella noche, jy ahora tienes que sacarla y pagar! jCielos, que
tonto fui y que tonto soy!", ahadio la parte menos Tuk del hobbit. "No tengo ningun
interes en tesoros guardados por dragones, y no me molestaria que todo el
monton se quedara aqui para siempre, si yo pudiese despertar y descubrir que
este tunel condenado es el zaguan de mi propia casa!"

Desde luego no desperto, sino que continuo adelante, hasta que toda sehal de la
puerta se hubo desvanecido detras y a lo lejos. Estaba completamente solo.
Pronto penso que empezaba a hacer calor. "^Es alguna especie de luz, lo que
creo ver acercandose justo enfrente, alia abajo?" se dijo.

Lo era. A medida que avanzaba crecia y Crecia, hasta que no hubo ninguna duda.
Era una luz rojiza de color cada vez mas vivo. Ahora era tambien indudable que
hacia calor en el tunel. Jirones de vapor flotaron y pasaron encima del hobbit que
empezo a sudar. Algo, ademas, comenzo a resonarle en los oidos, una especie de
burbujeo, como el ruido de una gran olla que galopa sobre las llamas, mezclado
con un retumbe como el ronroneo de un gato gigantesco. El ruido crecio hasta
convertirse en el inconfundible gorgoteo de algun animal enorme que roncaba en
suehos alia abajo en la tenue luz rojiza frente a el.

En este mismo momento Bilbo se detuvo. Seguir adelante fue la mayor de sus
hazahas. Las cosas tremendas que despues ocurrieron no pueden compararsele.
Libro la verdadera batalla en el tunel, a solas, antes de llegar a ver el enorme y
acechante peligro. De todos modos, luego de una breve pausa, se adelanto otra
vez; y podeis imaginaros como llego al final del tunel, una abertura muy parecida a
la puerta de arriba, por la forma y el tamaho: El hobbit asoma la cabecita. Ante el
yace el inmenso y mas profundo sotano o mazmorra de los antiguos enanos, en la
raiz misma de la Montana. La vastedad del sotano en penumbras solo puede ser
una vaga suposicion, pero un gran resplandor se alza en la parte cercana del piso
de piedra. jEl resplandor de Smaug!

Alii yacia, un enorme dragon aureorrojizo, que dormia profundamente; de las
fauces y narices le salia un ronquido, e hilachas de humo, pero los fuegos eran
apenas unas brasas llameantes. Debajo del cuerpo y las patas y la larga cola
enroscada, y todo alrededor, extendiendose lejos por los suelos invisibles, habia
incontables pilas de preciosos objetos, oro labrado y sin labrar, gemas y joyas, y
plata que la luz tenia de rojo.

Smaug yacia, con las alas plegadas como un inmenso murcielago, medio vuelto
de costado, de modo que el hobbit alcanzaba a verle la parte inferior, y el vientre
largo y palido incrustado con gemas y fragmentos de oro de tanto estar acostado
en ese lecho valioso, Detras, en las paredes mas proximas, podian verse
confusamente cotas de malla, y hachas, espadas, lanzas y yelmos colgados; y alii,
en hileras, habia grandes jarrones y vasijas, rebosantes de una riqueza
inestimable.

INFORMACION SECRETA



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Decir que Bilbo se quedo sin aliento no es suficiente. No hay palabras que
alcancen a expresar ese asombro abrumador desde que los Hombres cambiaron
el lenguaje que aprendieran de los Elfos, en los dias en que el mundo entero era
maravilloso. Bilbo habia oido antes relatos y cantos sobre tesoros ocultos de
dragones, pero el esplendor, la magnificencia, la gloria de un tesoro semejante, no
habia llegado nunca a imaginarlos. El encantamiento lo traspaso y le colmo el
corazon, y entendio el deseo de los enanos; y absorto e inmovil, casi olvidando al
espantoso guardian, se quedo mirando el oro, que sobrepasaba toda cuenta y
medida.

Contemplo el oro durante un largo tiempo, hasta que arrastrado casi contra su
voluntad avanzo sigiloso desde las sombras del umbral, cruzando el salon hasta el
borde mas cercano de los monticulos del tesoro. El dragon dormia encima, una
horrenda amenaza aun ahora. Bilbo tomo un copon de doble asa, de los mas
pesados que podia cargar, y echo una temerosa mirada hacia arriba. Smaug
sacudio un ala, desplego una garra, y el retumbe de los ronquidos cambio de tono.

Entonces Bilbo escapo corriendo. Aunque el dragon no desperto — no todavia — ,
pero tumbado alii, en el salon robado, tuvo suehos de avaricia y violencia,
mientras el pequeho hobbit regresaba penosamente por el largo tunel. El corazon
le saltaba en el pecho, y un temblor mas febril que el del descenso le atacaba las
piernas, pero no soltaba el copon, y su principal pensamiento era: "jl_o hice! y esto
les demostrara quien soy. jUn tendero mas que un saqueador, que se creen ellos
eso! Bien, no volveran a mencionarlo."

Y tampoco lo menciono el. Balm estaba encantado de volver a ver al hobbit, y
sentia una alegria que era tambien asombro. Abrazo a Bilbo y lo llevo fuera, al aire
libre. Era medianoche y las nubes habian cubierto las estrellas, pero Bilbo
continuaba con los ojos cerrados, boqueando y reanimandose con el aire fresco,
casi sin darse cuenta de la excitacion de los enanos, y de como lo alababan y lo
palmeaban, y se ponian a su servicio, ellos y todas las familias de los enanos, y
las generaciones venideras.

Los enanos aun se pasaban el copon de mano en mano y charlaban animados de
la recuperacion del tesoro, cuando de repente algo retumbo en el interior de la
montaha, como si un antiguo volcan se hubiese decidido a entrar otra vez en
erupcion. Detras de ellos la puerta se movio acercandose, y una piedra la bloqueo
impidiendo que se cerrara, pero desde las lejanas profundidades y por el largo
tunel subian unos horribles ecos de bramidos y de un andar pesado, que
estremecia el suelo.

Ante eso los enanos olvidaron su dicha y las seguras jactancias de momentos
antes, y se encogieron aterrorizados. Smaug era todavia alguien que convenia
recordar. No es nada bueno no tener en cuenta a un dragon vivo, sobre todo si
habita cerca. Es posible que los dragones no saquen provecho a todas las
riquezas que guardan, pero en general las conocen hasta la ultima onza, sobre
todo despues de una larga posesion; y Smaug no era diferente. Habia pasado de
un sueho intranquilo (en el que un guerrero, insignificante del todo en tamaho,
pero provisto de una afilada espada y de gran valor, actuaba de un modo muy



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poco agradable) a uno ligero, y al fin se espabilo por completo. Habia un halito
extrano en la cueva. ^Podria ser una corriente que venia del pequeno agujero?
Nunca se habia sentido muy contento con el, aunque era tan reducido, y ahora lo
miraba feroz y receloso, preguntandose por que no lo habria tapado. En los
ultimos dias creia haber oido los ecos indistintos de unos golpes alia arriba. Se
movio y estiro el cuello hacia adelante, husmeando.

jEntonces noto que faltaba el copon!

jLadrones! jFuego! jMuerte! jNada semejante le habia ocurrido desde que llegara
por primera vez a la Montana! La ira del dragon era indescriptible, esa ira que solo
se ve en la gente rica que no alcanza a disfrutar de todo lo que tiene, y que de
pronto pierde algo que ha guardado durante mucho tiempo, pero que nunca ha
utilizado o necesitado. Smaug vomitaba fuego, el Salon humeaba, las raices de la
Montana se estremecian. Golpeo en vano la cabeza contra el pequeno agujero, y
enroscando el cuerpo, rugiendo como un trueno subterraneo, se precipito fuera de
la guarida profunda, cruzo las grandes puertas, y entro en los vastos pasadizos de
la montaha — palacio, y fue arriba, hacia la Puerta Principal.

Buscar por toda la montaha hasta atrapar al ladron y despedazarlo y pisotearlo era
el unico pensamiento de Smaug. Salio por la Puerta, las aguas se alzaron en un
vapor siseante y fiero, y el se elevo ardiendo en el aire, y se poso en la cima de la
montaha envuelto en un fuego rojo y verde. Los enanos oyeron el sonido terrible
de las alas del dragon, y se acurrucaron contra los muros de la terraza cubierta de
hierba, ocultandose detras de los pehascos, esperando de alguna manera escapar
a aquellos ojos terrorificos.

Habrian muerto todos si no fuese por Bilbo, una vez mas. — jRapido! jRapido! —
jadeo — . jLa puerta! jEl tunel! Aqui no estamos seguros.

Los enanos reaccionaron, y ya estaban a punto de arrastrarse al interior del tunel,
cuando Bifur dio un grito: — jMis primos! Bombur y Bofur. Los hemos olvidado.
jEstan alia abajo en el valle!

— Los matara, y tambien a nuestros poneys, y lo perderemos todo — se
lamentaron los demas — . Nada podemos hacer.

— jTonterfas! — dijo Thorin, recobrando su dignidad — , No podemos abandonarlos.
Entrad, sehor Bolson y Balm, y vosotros dos, Fili y Kili; el dragon no nos atrapara a
todos. Ahora vosotros, los demas, ^donde estan las cuerdas? jDe prisa!

Estos fueron tal vez los momentos mas dificiles por los que habian tenido que
pasar. Los horribles estruendos de la colera de Smaug resonaban arriba en las
distantes cavidades de piedra; en cualquier momento podria bajar envuelto en
llamas o volar girando en circulos y descubrirlos alii, al borde del despehadero,
tirando desaforados de las cuerdas. Arriba llego Bofur, y aun todo seguia en
calma. Arriba llego Bombur resoplando y sin aliento mientras las cuerdas crujian, y
aun todo seguia en calma. Arriba llegaron herramientas y fardos con provisiones, y
entonces una amenaza se cernio sobre ellos.

Se oyo un zumbido chirriante. Una luz rojiza toco las crestas de las rocas. El
dragon se acercaba.



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Apenas tuvieron tiempo para correr de vuelta al tunel, arrastrando y tirando de los
fardos, cuando Smaug aparecio como un rayo desde el norte, lamiendo con fuego
las laderas de la montana, batiendo las grandes alas en el aire que rugia como un
huracan. El aliento arraso la hierba ante la puerta y alcanzo la grieta por donde
habian entrado a esconderse, y los chamusco, Unos fuegos crepitantes se
elevaban saltando, y las sombras de las piedras negras danzaban en torno,
Entonces, mientras el dragon pasaba otra vez volando, cayo la oscuridad. Los
poneys chillaron de terror, rompieron las cuerdas y escaparon al galope. El dragon
dio media vuelta, corrio tras ellos, y desaparecio.

— jEste sera el final de nuestras pobres bestias! — dijo Thorin — Nada que Smaug
haya visto puede escaparsele. jAqui estamos y aqui tendremos que estar, a
menos que a alguien se le ocurra volver a pie hasta el no, y con Smaug al acecho!

jNo era un pensamiento agradable! Se arrastraron tunel abajo estremeciendose,
aunque hacia calor y el aire era pesado, y alii esperaron hasta que el alba palida
se colo por la rendija de la puerta. Durante toda la noche pudieron oir una y otra
vez el creciente fragor del dragon, que volaba y pasaba junto a ellos, y se perdia
dando vueltas y vueltas a la montana, buscandolos en las laderas.

Los poneys y los restos del campamento le hicieron suponer que unos hombres
habian venido del no y el lago, escalando la ladera de la montana desde el valle.
Pero la puerta resistio la inquisitiva mirada, y la pequeha nave de paredes altas
contuvo las llamas mas feroces. Largo tiempo llevaba ya al acecho sin ningun
resultado cuando el alba enfrio la colera de Smaug, que regreso al lecho dorado
para dormir y reponer fuerzas. No olvidaria ni perdonana el robo, ni aunque mil
ahos lo convirtiesen en una piedra humeante; el seguiria esperando. Despacio y
en silencio se arrastro de vuelta a la guarida, y cerro a medias los ojos.

Cuando llego la mahana, el terror de los enanos disminuyo. Entendieron que
peligros de esta indole eran inevitables con semejante guardian, y que por ahora
no servia de nada abandonar la busqueda. Pero tampoco podian escapar, como
Thorin habia apuntado. Los poneys estaban muertos o perdidos, y Bilbo y los
enanos tendnan que esperar a que Smaug dejara de vigilarlos, antes de que se
atrevieran a recorrer a pie el largo camino. Por fortuna conservaban buena parte
de las provisiones, que aun podian durarles un tiempo. Discutieron largamente
sobre el proximo paso, pero no encontraron modo de deshacerse de Smaug, que
siempre habia sido el punto debil de todos los planes, como Bilbo se adelanto a
sehalar. Luego, como ocurre con las gentes que no saben que hacer ni que decir,
empezaron a quejarse del hobbit, culpandolo por lo que en un principio tanto les
habia agradado: apoderarse de una copa y despertar tan pronto la colera de
Smaug.

— «j,Que otra cosa se supone que ha de hacer un Saqueador? — les pregunto Bilbo
enfadado — . A mi no me encomendaron matar dragones, lo que es trabajo de
guerreros, sino robar el tesoro. Hice hasta ahora lo que creia mejor. ^Acaso
pensabais que regresaria trotando, con todo el botin de Thror a mis espaldas? Si
vais a quejaros, creo que tengo derecho a dar mi opinion. Tendriais que haber
traido quinientos saqueadores y no uno. Estoy seguro de que esto honra a vuestro



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abuelo, pero recordad que nunca me hablasteis con claridad de las dimensiones
del tesoro. Necesitaria centenares de anos para subirlo todo hasta aqui, aunque
yo fuese cincuenta veces mas grande, y Smaug tan inofensivo como un conejo.

Por supuesto, los enanos se disculparon. — ^Entonces que nos propones, senor
Bolson? — pregunto Thorin cortesmente.

-Por el momento no se me ocurre nada, si te refieres a trasladar el tesoro. Para
eso, como es obvio, necesitamos que la suerte cambie, y que podamos
deshacernos de Smaug. Deshacerse de dragones es algo que no esta para nada
en mi linea, pero tratare de pensarlo lo mejor que pueda. Personalmente no tengo
ninguna esperanza, y desearia estar de vuelta en casa y a salvo.

— jDeja eso por el momento! ^Que haremos ahora?

— Bien, si realmente quieres mi consejo, te dire que no tenemos nada que hacer
excepto quedarnos donde estamos. Seguro que durante el dia podremos
arrastrarnos fuera y tomar aire fresco sin ningun peligro. Quiza pronto sea posible
elegir a uno O dos para que regresen al deposito junto al no y traigan mas viveres.
Pero entretanto, y por la noche, todos tienen que quedarse bien metidos en el
tunel.

"Bien, os hare una proposicion. Tengo aqui mi anillo, y descendere este mismo
mediodia, pues a esa hora Smaug estara echando una siesta, y quiza algo ocurra.
'Todo gusano tiene su punto debil', como solia decir mi padre, aunque estoy
seguro de que nunca llego a comprobarlo el mismo.

Por supuesto, los enanos aceptaron en seguida la proposicion. Ya habian llegado
a respetar al pequeho Bilbo. Ahora se habia convertido en el verdadero lider de la
aventura. Empezaba a tener ideas y planes propios. Cuando llego el mediodia, se
preparo para otra expedition al interior de la Montana. No le gustaba nada, clara
esta, pero no era tan malo ahora que sabia de algun modo lo que le esperaba
delante. Si hubiese estado mas enterado de las mahas astutas de los dragones,
podria haberse sentido mas asustado y menos seguro de sorprenderlo mientras
dormia.

El sol brillaba cuando partio, pero el tunel estaba tan oscuro como la noche. A
medida que descendia, la luz de la puerta entornada iba desvaneciendose. Tan
silenciosa era la marcha de Bilbo que el humo arrastrado por una brisa apenas
hubiera podido aventajarlo, y empezaba a sentirse un poco orgulloso de si mismo
mientras se acercaba a la puerta inferior. Lo unico que se veia era un resplandor
muy tenue.

"El viejo Smaug esta cansado y dormido", penso. "No puede verme y no me oira.
jAnimo, Bilbo!" Habia olvidado el sentido del olfato de los dragones, o quiza nadie
se lo habia dicho antes. Un detalle que tambien conviene tener en cuenta es que
pueden dormir con un ojo entornado, si tiene algun recelo.

En realidad, Smaug parecia profundamente dormido, casi muerto y apagado, con
un ronquido que era apenas unas bocanadas de vapor invisible, cuando Bilbo se
asomo otra vez desde la entrada. Estaba a punto de dar un paso hacia el salon
cuando alcanzo a ver un repentino rayo rojo, debil y penetrante, que venia de la



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caida ceja izquierda de Smaug. jSolo se hacia el dormido! jVigilaba la entrada del
tunel! Bilbo dio un rapido paso atras y bendijo la suerte de haberse puesto el
anillo. Entonces Smaug hablo:

— jBien, ladron! Te huelo y te siento. Oigo como respiras. jVamos! jSirvete de
nuevo, hay mucho y de sobra!

Pero Bilbo no era tan ignorante en materia de dragones como para acercarse, y si
Smaug esperaba conseguirlo con tanta facilidad, quedo decepcionado. — jNo
gracias, oh Smaug el Tremendo! — replico el hobbit — No vine a buscar presentes.
Solo deseaba echarte un vistazo y ver si eras tan grande como en los cuentas. Yo
no lo creia.

— ^Lo crees ahora? — dijo el dragon un tanto halagado, pero esceptico.

— En verdad canciones y relatos quedan del todo cortos frente a la realidad, joh
Smaug, la Mas Importante, la Mas Grande de las Calamidades! — replico Bilbo.

— Tienes buenos modales para un ladron y un mentiroso — dijo el dragon — .
Pareces familiarizado con mi nombre, pero no creo haberte olido antes. ^Quien
eres y de donde vienes, si puedo preguntar?

— jPuedes, ya lo creo! Vengo de debajo de la colina, y por debajo de las colinas y
sobre las colinas me condujeron los senderos. Y por el aire. Yo soy el que camina
sin ser visto.

— Eso puedo creerlo — dijo Smaug — , pero no me parece que te llamen asi
comunmente.

— Yo soy el descubre — indicios, el corta — telarahas, la, mosca de aguijon. Fui
elegido por el numero de la suerte.

— jHermosos titulos! — se mofo el dragon — , Pero los numeros de la suerte no
siempre la traen.

— Yo soy el que entierra a sus amigos vivos, y los ahoga y los saca vivos otra vez
de las aguas. Yo vengo de una bolsa cerrada, pero no he estado dentro de
ninguna bolsa.

— Estos ultimos ya no me suenan tan verosimiles — se burlo Smaug.

— Yo soy el amigo de los osos y el invitado de las aguilas. Yo soy el Ganador del
Anillo y el Porta Fortuna; y yo soy el Jinete de Barril — prosiguio Bilbo comenzando
a entusiasmarse con sus acertijos.

— jEso esta mejor! — dijo Smaug — , jPero no dejes que tu imagination se
desboque junto contigo!

Esta es, por supuesto, la manera de dialogar con los dragones, si no quereis
revelarles vuestro nombre verdadero (lo que es juicioso), y tampoco quereis
enfurecerlos con una negativa categorica (lo que es tambien muy juicioso). Ningun
dragon se resiste a una fascinante charla de acertijos, y a perder el tiempo
intentando comprenderla. Habia muchas cosas aqui que Smaug no comprendia
del todo (aunque espero que si vosotros, ya que conoceis bien las aventuras de



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que hablaba Bilbo); sin embargo, penso que comprendia bastante y ahogo una
risa en su malevolo interior.

"Asi pense anoche", se dijo sonriendo. "Hombres del Lago, algun plan asqueroso
de esos miserables comerciantes de cubas, los Hombres del Lago, o yo soy una
lagartija. No he bajado por ese camino durante siglos y siglos; jpero pronto
remediare ese error!"

— jMuy bien, oh Jinete del Barril! — dijo en voz alta — , Tal vez tu poney se llamaba
Barril, y tal vez no, aunque era bastante grueso. Puedes caminar sin que te vean,
mas no caminaste todo el camino. Permiteme decirte que anoche me comi seis
poneys, y que pronto atrapare y me comere a todos los demas. A cambio de esa
excelente comida, te dare un pequeho consejo, solo por tu bien: jNo hagas mas
tratos con enanos mientras puedas evitarlo!

— i Enanos! — dijo Bilbo fingiendo sorpresa.

— jNo me hables! — dijo Smaug — . Conozco el olor (y el sabor) de los enanos
mejor que nadie. jNo me digas que me puedo comer un poney cabalgado por un
enano y no darme cuenta! Iras de mal en peor con semejantes amigos, Ladron
Jinete de Barril. No me importa si vuelves y se lo dices a todos ellos de mi parte,
— Pero no le dijo a Bilbo que habia un olor desconcertante que no podia
reconocer, el olor de hobbit.

— Supongo que conseguiste un buen precio por aquella copa anoche, <j,no? —
continuo — . Vamos, Jo conseguiste? jNada de nada! Bien, asi son ellos. Y
supongo que se quedaron afuera escondidos, y que tu tarea es hacer los trabajos
peligrosos y llevarte lo que puedas mientras yo no miro... y todo para ellos. <j,Y
tendras una parte equitativa? jNo lo creas! Considerate afortunado si sales con
vida.

Bilbo empezaba ahora a sentirse realmente incomodo. Cada vez que el ojo errante
de Smaug, que lo buscaba en las sombras, relampagueaba atravesandolo, se
estremecia de pies a cabeza, y sentia el inexplicable deseo de echar a correr y
mostrarse tal cual era, y decir toda la verdad a Smaug. En realidad coma el grave
peligro de caer bajo el hechizo del dragon. Junto coraje, y hablo otra vez.

— No lo sabes todo, oh Smaug el Poderoso — dijo — , No solo el oro nos trajo aqui.

— jJa, ja! Admites el "nos" — rio Smaug — . <j,Por que no dices "nos los catorce" y
asunto concluido, sehor Numero de la Suerte? Me complace oir que tenias otros
asuntos aqui, ademas de mi oro. En ese caso, quiza no pierdas del todo el tiempo.

"No se si pensaste que aunque pudieses robar el oro poco a poco, en unos cien
ahos o algo asi, no podrias llevarlo muy lejos. Y que no te seria de mucha utilidad
en la ladera de la montaha. Ni de mucha utilidad en el bosque. jBendita sea!
<j,Nunca has pensado en el botin? Una catorceava parte, o algo parecido, fueron
los terminos, <j,eh? ^Pero que hay acerca de la entrega? «j,Que acerca del
acarreo? «j,Que acerca de guardias armados y peajes? — Y Smaug rio con fuerza.
Tenia un corazon astuto y malvado, y sabia que estas conjeturas no iban mal
encaminadas, aunque sospechaba que los Hombres del Lago estaban detras de



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todos los planes, y que la mayor parte del botin iria a parar a la ciudad junto a la
ribera, que cuando el era joven se habia llamado Esgaroth.

Apenas me creereis, pero el pobre Bilbo estaba de veras muy desconcertado.
Hasta entonces todos sus pensamientos y energias se habian concentrado en
alcanzar la Montana y encontrar la puerta. Nunca se habia molestado en
preguntarse como trasladarian el tesoro, y menos como llevaria la parte que
pudiera corresponderle por todo el camino de vuelta a Bolson Cerrado, bajo la
Colina.

Una tea sospecha se le aparecio ahora en la mente:

^habian olvidado los enanos tambien este punto importante, o habian estado
riendose de el con disimulo todo el tiempo? La charla de un dragon causa este
efecto en la gente de poca experiencia. Bilbo, desde luego, no tenia que haber
bajado la guardia; pero la personalidad de Smaug era en verdad irresistible.

— Puedo asegurarte — dijo, tratando de mantenerse firme y leal a sus amigos —
que el oro fue solo una ocurrencia tardfa. Vinimos sobre la colina y bajo la colina,
en la ola y el viento, por venganza, seguro que entiendes, oh Smaug el
acaudalado invalorable, que con tu exito te has ganado encarnizados enemigos.

Entonces si que Smaug rio de veras: un devastador sonido que arrojo a Bilbo al
suelo, mientras alia arriba en el tunel los enanos se acurrucaron agrupandose y se
imaginaron que el hobbit habia tenido un subito y desagradable fin.

— jVenganza! — bufo, y la luz de sus ojos ilumino el salon desde el suelo hasta el
techo como un relampago escarlata — . jVenganza! El Rey bajo la Montana ha
muerto, <j,y donde estan los descendientes que se atrevan a buscar venganza?
Girion, Sehor de Valle, ha muerto, y yo me he comido a su gente como un lobo
entre ovejas, <j,y donde estan los hijos de sus hijos que se atrevan a acercarse? Yo
mato donde quiero y nadie se atreve a resistir. Yo derribe a los guerreros de
antaho y hoy no hay nadie en el mundo como yo. Entonces era joven y tierno.
jAhora soy viejo y fuerte, fuerte, fuerte, Ladron de las Sombras! — grito, y echo a
Bilbo una mirada satisfecha y maligna — jMi armadura es como diez escudos, mis
dientes son espadas, mis garras lanzas, mi cola un rayo, mis alas un huracan, y mi
aliento muerte!

— Siempre entendi — dijo Bilbo en un asustado chillido — que los dragones son
mas blandos por debajo, especialmente en esa region del... pecho; pero sin duda
alguien tan fortificado ya lo habra tenido en cuenta.

El dragon interrumpio bruscamente estas jactancias. — Tu informacion es
anticuada — espeto — . Estoy acorazado por arriba y por abajo con escamas de
hierro y gemas duras. Ninguna hoja puede penetrarme.

— Tendria que haberlo adivinado — dijo Bilbo — . En verdad no conozco a nadie
que pueda compararse con el Impenetrable Sehor Smaug. jQue magnificencia, un
chaleco de diamantes!

— Si, es realmente raro y maravilloso — dijo Smaug, complacido sin ninguna razon.
No sabia que el hobbit habia llegado a verle brevemente la peculiar cobertura del



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pecho, en la visita anterior, y esperaba impaciente la oportunidad de mirar de mas
cerca, por razones particulares. El dragon se revolco. — jMira! — dijo — . ^Que te
parece?

— jDeslumbrante y maravilloso! jPerfecto! jlmpecable! jAsombroso! — exclamo
Bilbo en voz alta, pero lo que pensaba en su interior era: "jViejo tonto! jAhf, en el
hueco del pecho izquierdo hay una parte tan desnuda como un caracol fuera de
casa!"

Habiendo visto lo que queria ver, la unica idea del sehor Bolson era marcharse. —
Bien, no he de detener a Vuestra Magnificencia por mas tiempo — dijo — , ni robarle
un muy necesitado reposo. Capturar poneys da algun trabajo, creo, si parten con
ventaja. Lo mismo ocurre con los saqueadores — ahadio como observation de
despedida mientras se precipitaba hacia atras y huia subiendo por el tunel.

Fue un desafortunado comentario, pues el dragon escupio unas llamas terribles
detras de Bilbo, y aunque el coma pendiente arriba, no se habia alejado tanto
como para sentirse a salvo antes que Smaug lanzara el craneo horroroso contra la
entrada del tunel. Por fortuna no pudo meter toda la cabeza y las mandibulas, pero
las narices echaron fuego y vapor detras del hobbit, que casi fue vencido, y
avanzo a ciegas tropezando, y con gran dolor y miedo. Se habia sentido bastante
complacido consigo mismo luego de la astuta conversation con Smaug, pero el
error del final le habia devuelto bruscamente la sensatez.

"jNunca te rias de dragones vivos, Bilbo imbecil!" se dijo, y esto se convertiria en
uno de sus dichos favoritos en el futuro, y se transformaria en un proverbio.
"Todavia no terminaste esta aventura" agrego, y esto fue bastante cierto tambien.

La tarde se cambiaba en noche cuando salio otra vez y trastabillo y cayo
desmayado en el "umbral". Los enanos lo reanimaron y le curaron las quemaduras
lo mejor que pudieron; pero paso mucho tiempo antes de que los pelos de la nuca
y los talones le creciesen de nuevo; pues el fuego del dragon los habia rizado y
chamuscado hasta dejarle la piel completamente des nuda. Entretanto, los enanos
trataron de levantarle el animo; querian que Bilbo les contara en seguida lo que
habia ocurrido, y en especial querian saber por que el dragon habia hecho aquel
ruido tan espantoso, y como Bilbo habia escapade

Pero el hobbit estaba preocupado e incomodo, y les costo sacarle unas pocas
palabras. Pensandolo ahora, lamentaba haberle dicho al dragon algunas cosas, y
no tenia ganas de repetirlas. El viejo zorzal estaba posado en una roca proxima,
inclinando la cabeza, escuchando todo lo que hablaban. Lo que paso entonces
muestra el malhumor de Bilbo: recogio una piedra y se la arrojo al zorzal. El pajaro
aleteo haciendose a un lado y volvio a posarse.

— jMaldito pajaro! — dijo Bilbo enojado — Creo que esta escuchando, y no me
gusta nada ese aspecto que tiene.

— jDejalo en paz! — dijo Thorin — . Los zorzales son buenos y amistosos: este es
un pajaro realmente muy viejo, y tal vez el ultimo de la antigua estirpe que
acostumbraba a vivir en esta region, dociles a las manos de mi padre y mi abuelo.
Era una longeva y magica raza, y quiza este sea uno de los que vivian aqui



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entonces, hace un par de cientos de anos o mas. Algunos hombres de Valle
entendian el lenguaje de estos pajaros, y los mandaban como mensajeros a los
hombres del lago y a otras partes.

— Bien, tendra nuevas que llevar a la Ciudad del Lago entonces, si es eso lo que
pretende — dijo Bilbo — . Aunque supongo que alii no queda nadie que se preocupe
por el lenguaje de los zorzales.

— Pero <j,que ha sucedido? — gritaron los enanos — jVamos, no interrumpas la
historia!



De modo que Bilbo les conto lo que pudo recordar, y confeso que tenia la
desagradable impresion de que el dragon habia adivinado demasiado bien todos
los acertijos sobre los campamentos y los poneys. — Estoy seguro de que sabe de
donde venimos, y que nos ayudaron en Ciudad del Lago; y tengo el hondo
presentimiento de que podria ir muy pronto en esa direction. Desearia no haber
hablado nunca del Jinete del Barril; en estos lugares aun un conejo ciego pensaria
en los hombres del Lago.

— jBueno, bueno! Ya no puede enmendarse, y es dificil no cometer un desliz
cuando hablas con un dragon, o asi he oido decir — lo consolo Balin — Yo pienso
que lo hiciste muy bien, y de todos modos has descubierto algo muy util, y has
vuelto vivo, y esto es mas de lo que puede contar la mayoria de quienes hablaron
con gentes como Smaug. Puede ser una suerte, y aun una bendicion, saber que
ese viejo gusano tiene un sitio desnudo en el chaleco de diamantes.

Aquello cambio la conversation, y todos empezaron a hablar de matanzas de
dragones, historicas, dudosas y miticas; y de las distintas puhaladas, mandobles,
estocadas al vientre, y las diferentes artes, trampas y estratagemas por las que
tales hazahas habian sido llevadas a cabo. De acuerdo con la opinion general,
sorprender a un dragon que echaba una siesta no era tan facil como parecia, y el
intento de golpear o pinchar a uno dormido podia ser mas desastroso que un
audaz ataque frontal. Mientras ellos hablaban, el zorzal no dejaba de escuchar,
hasta que por ultimo, cuando asomaron las primeras estrellas, abrio en silencio las
alas y se alejo volando. Y mientras hablaban y las sombras crecian, Bilbo se
sentia cada vez mas desdichado e inquieto por lo que podia ocurrir.

Por fin los interrumpio. — Se que aqui no estamos seguros — dijo — . Y no veo
razon para quedarnos. El dragon ha marchitado todo lo que era verde y agradable,
y ademas ha llegado la noche y hace frio. Pero siento en los huesos que este sitio
sera atacado otra vez. Smaug sabe como baje hasta el salon, y descubrira donde
termina el tunel. Destruira toda esta ladera, si es necesario, para impedir que
entremos, y si las piedras nos aplastan, mas le gustara.

— jEstas muy siniestro sehor Bolson! — dijo Thorin — . ^Por que Smaug no ha
bloqueado entonces el extremo de abajo, si tanto quiere tenernos fuera? No lo ha
hecho, o lo habriamos oido.

— No se, no se... porque al principio quiso probar a atraerme de nuevo, supongo, y
ahora quiza espera porque antes quiere concluir la caceria de la noche, o porque



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no quiere estropear el dormitorio, si puede evitarlo... pero preferiria que no
discutieramos. Smaug puede aparecer ahora en cualquier momento, y nuestra
unica esperanza es meternos en el tonel y luego cerrar bien la puerta.

Parecia tan serio que los enanos hicieron al fin lo que decia, aunque se
demoraron en cerrar la puerta. Les parecia un plan desesperado, pues nadie
sabia si podrian abrirla desde dentro, o como, y la idea de quedar encerrados en
un sitio cuya unica salida cruzaba la guarida del dragon, no les gustaba mucho.
Ademas todo parecia en calma, tanto fuera como abajo en el tunel. De modo que
se quedaron sentados dentro un largo rato, no muy lejos de la puerta entornada, y
continuaron hablando.

La conversacion paso entonces a comentar las malvadas palabras del dragon
acerca de los enanos. Bilbo deseaba no haberlas escuchado jamas, o al menos
estar seguro de que los enanos eran en verdad honestos, cuando decian que no
habian pensado nunca en lo que ocurriria luego de haber obtenido el tesoro. —
Sabiamos que seria una aventura desesperada — dijo Thorin — , y lo sabemos
todavia; y pienso todavia que cuando hayamos ganado habra tiempo de resolver
el problema. En cuanto a lo que es tuyo, senor Bolson, te aseguro que te estamos
mas que agradecidos, y que escogeras tu propia catorceava parte tan pronto
como haya algo que dividir. Lo lamento si estas preocupado acerca del transporte,
y admito que las dificultades son grandes (las tierras no se han vuelto menos
salvajes con el paso del tiempo, mas bien lo contrario), pero haremos lo que
podamos por ti, y cargaremos con nuestra parte del costo cuando llegue el
momento. jCreeme o no, como quieras!

De esto la conversacion paso al gran tesoro escondido, y a las cosas que Thorin y
Balin recordaban. Se preguntaron si estarian todavia intactas alii abajo en el
salon: las lanzas que habian sido hechas para los ejercitos del Rey Blador el Flaco
(muerto tiempo atras), cada una con una moharra forjada tres veces y astas con
ingeniosas incrustaciones de oro, y que nunca habian sido entregadas o pagadas;
escudos hechos para guerreros fallecidos hacia tiempo; la gran copa de oro de
Thror, de dos asas, martillada y labrada con pajaros y flores de ojos y petalos
enjoyados; cotas impenetrables de malla, de oro y plata; el collar de Girion, Sehor
de Valle, de quinientas esmeraldas verdes como la hierba que hizo engarzar para
la investidura del hijo mayor en una cota de anillos eslabonados que nunca se
habia hecho antes, pues estaba trabajada en plata pura con el poder y la fuerza
del triple acero. Pero lo mas hermoso era la gran gema blanca, encontrada por los
enanos bajo las raices de la Montana, el Corazon de la Montana, la Piedra del
Area de Thrain.

— jLa Piedra del Area! jLa piedra del Area! — susurro Thorin en la oscuridad,
medio sohando con el menton sobre las rodillas — . jEra como un globo de mil
facetas; brillaba como la plata al resplandor del fuego, como el agua al sol, como
la nieve bajo las estrellas, como la lluvia sobre la Luna!

Pero el deseo encantado del tesoro ya no animaba a Bilbo. A lo largo de la charla,
apenas habia prestado atencion. Era el que estaba mas cerca de la puerta, con un
oido vuelto a cualquier comienzo de sonido fuera, y el otro atento a los ecos que



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pudieran resonar por encima del murmullo de los enanos, a cualquier rumor de un
movimiento en los abismos.

La oscuridad se hizo mas profunda y Bilbo se sentia cada vez mas intranquilo. —
jCerrad la puerta! — les rogo — El miedo al dragon me estremece hasta los
tuetanos. Me gusta mucho menos este silencio que el tumulto de la noche pasada.
jCerrad la puerta antes que sea demasiado tarde!

Algo en la voz de Bilbo hizo que los enanos se sintieran incomodos. Lentamente,
Thorin se sacudio los suenos de encima, y luego se incorporo y aparto de un
puntapie la piedra que calzaba la puerta. En seguida todos la empujaron, y la
puerta se cerro con un crujido y un golpe. Ninguna traza de cerradura era visible
ahora en el costado de la piedra. jEstaban encerrados en la Montana!

jY ni un instante demasiado pronto! Apenas habian marchado un trecho tunel
abajo, cuando un impacto sacudio la ladera de la Montana con un estruendo de
arietes de roble enarbolados por gigantes La roca retumbo, las paredes se rajaron,
y unas piedras cayeron sobre ellos desde el techo. Lo que habria ocurrido si la
puerta hubiese estado todavia abierta, no quiero ni pensarlo. Huyeron mas alia,
tunel abajo, contemos de estar todavia con vida, mientras detras y fuera oian los
rugidos y truenos de la furia de Smaug. Estaba quebrando rocas, aplastando
paredes y precipicios con los azotes de la cola enorme, hasta que el terreno
encumbrado del campamento, la hierba quemada, la piedra del zorzal, las paredes
cubiertas de caracoles, la repisa estrecha desaparecieron con todo lo demas en
un revoltijo de pedazos rotos, y una avalancha de piedras astilladas cayo del
acantilado al valle.

Smaug habia dejado su guarida pisando con cuidado, remontando vuelo en
silencio, y luego habia flotado pesado y lento en la oscuridad como un grajo
monstruoso, bajando con el viento hacia el oeste de la Montana, esperando
atrapar desprevenida a cualquier cosa que estuviera por alii, y espiar ademas la
salida del pasadizo que el ladron habia utilizado. En ese mismo momento estallo
en colera, pues no pudo encontrar a nadie ni vio nada, ni siquiera donde
sospechaba que tenia que estar la salida.



Despues de haberse desahogado, se sintio mejor y penso convencido que no
seria molestado de nuevo desde ese lugar. Mientras tanto tenia que tomarse otra
venganza. — jJinete del Barril! — bufo — . Tus pies vinieron de la orilla del agua, y
sin ninguna duda viajaste rio arriba. No conozco tu olor, mas si no eres uno de
esos Hombres del Lago, ellos te ayudaron al menos. jMe veran y recordaran
entonces quien es el verdadero Rey bajo la Montana!

Se elevo en llamas y partio lejos al sur, hacia el Rio Rapido.

NADIE EN CASA

Mientras tanto, los enanos se quedaron sentados en la oscuridad, y un completo
silencio cayo alrededor. Hablaron poco y comieron poco. No se daban mucha



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cuenta del paso del tiempo, y casi no se atrevian a moverse, pues el susurro de
las voces resonaba y se repetia en el tunel. A veces dormitaban, y cuando abrian
los ojos descubrian que la oscuridad y el silencio no habian cambiado. Al cabo de
muchos dias de espera, cuando empezaban a sentirse asfixiados y embotados por
la falta de aire, no pudieron soportarlo mas. Hasta casi hubieran dado la
bienvenida a cualquier sonido de abajo que indicase la vuelta del dragon. En
medio de aquella quietud temian alguna diabolica astucia de Smaug, y no podian
estar alii sentados para siempre.

Thorin hablo: — jProbemos la puerta! — dijo — . Necesito sentir el viento en la cara
o pronto morire. jCreo que preferiria ser aplastado por Smaug al aire libre que
asfixiarme aqui dentro! — Asi que varios enanos se levantaron y fueron a tientas
hacia la puerta. Pero alii descubrieron que el extremo superior del tunel habia sido
destruido y bloqueado por pedazos de rocas. Ni la Have ni la magia a la que habia
obedecido alguna vez, volverian a abrir aquella puerta.

— jEstamos atrapados! — gimieron — . Esto es el fin, moriremos aqui.

Pero de algun modo, justo cuando los enanos estaban mas desesperados, Bilbo
sintio un raro alivio en el corazon, como si le hubieran quitado una pesada carga
que llevaba bajo el chaleco.

— jVenid, venid! — dijo — . 'jMientras hay vida hay esperanza!', como decia mi
padre, y 'A la tercera va la vencida'. Bajare por el tunel una vez mas. Recorri este
camino dos veces cuando sabia que habia un dragon al otro lado, asi que
arriesgare una tercera visita ahora que no estoy seguro. De cualquier modo la
unica salida es hacia abajo y creo que esta vez convendra que vengais todos
conmigo.

Desesperados, los enanos asintieron, y Thorin fue e! primero en avanzar junto a
Bilbo.

— jAhora tened cuidado! — susurro el hobbit — , y no hagais ruido si es posible!
Quiza no haya ningun Smaug en el fondo, pero tambien puede que lo haya. jNo

corramos riesgos innecesarios!

Bajaron, y siguieron bajando. La marcha de los enanos no podia compararse
desde luego con los movimientos furtivos del hobbit, y lo seguian resoplando y
arrastrando los pies, con ruidos que los ecos magnificaban de un modo alarmante;
pero cuando Bilbo asusta do se detenia a escuchar una y otra vez, no se oia nada
que viniera de abajo. Cuando penso que estaba cerca del extremo del tunel, se
puso el anillo y marcho delante. Pero no lo necesitaba, pues la oscuridad era
impenetrable, y todos parecian invisibles, con o sin anillo. Tan negro estaba todo,
que el hobbit llego a la abertura sin darse cuenta, extendio la mano en el aire,
trastabillo, jy rodo de cabeza dentro de la sala!

Alii quedo tumbado de bruces contra el suelo, y no se atrevia a incorporarse, y
casi ni siquiera a respirar. Pero nada se movio. No habia ninguna luz, aunque
cuando al fin alzo despacio la cabeza, creyo ver un palido destello bianco encima
de el y lejos en las sombras. En realidad no habia ni una chispa de fuego de



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dragon, pero un olor a gusano infectaba el sitio, y Bilbo sentia en la boca el sabor
de los vapores.

Al cabo de un rato el senor Bolson ya no pudo resistirlo mas. — jMaldito seas,
Smaug; tu, gusano! — chillo — , jDeja de jugar al escondite! jDame una luz y
despues comeme si eres, capaz de atraparme!

Unos ecos debiles corrieron alrededor del salon invisible, pero no hubo respuesta.

Bilbo se incorporo y descubrio que estaba desorientado, y no sabia por donde ir.

— Me pregunto a que demonios esta jugando Smaug — dijo— . Creo que no esta
en casa por el dia (o por la noche, o lo que sea). Si Gloin y 6in no perdieron las
yescas quizas podarnos tener un poco de luz, y echar un vistazo antes de que
cambie la suerte.

"jLuz! — grito — . ^Puede alguien encender una luz?

Los enanos, claro esta, se habian asustado mucho cuando Bilbo tropezo con el
escalon y con un fuerte topetazo entro de bruces en la sala. y se habian sentado
acurrucandose en la boca del tunel, donde el hobbit los habia dejado.

— jChist! — sisearon como respuesta, y aunque Bilbo supo asi donde estaban,
paso bastante tiempo antes de que pudiese sacarles algo mas. Pero al fin, cuando
Bilbo se puso a patear el suelo y a vociferar: — jLuz! — con una voz aguda y
penetrante, Thorin cedio, y 6in y Gloin fueron enviados de vuelta a la entrada del
tunel, donde estaban los fardos.

Al poco rato un resplandor parpadeante indico que regresaban; 6in sosteniendo
una pequeha antorcha de pino, y Gloin con un monton bajo el brazo. Bilbo troto
rapido hasta la puerta y tomo la antorcha, pero no con siguio que encendieran las
otras 6 se unieran a el. Como Thorin explico, el sehor Bolson era todavia
oficialmente el experto saqueador e investigador al servicio de los enanos. Si se
arriesgaba a encender una luz, alia el. Los enanos lo esperarian en el tunel. Asi
que se sentaron junto a la puerta y observaron.

Vieron la pequeha figura del hobbit que cruzaba el suelo alzando la antorcha
diminuta. De cuando en cuando, mientras aun estaba cerca, y cada vez que Bilbo
tropezaba, llegaban a ver un destello dorado y oian un tintineo. La luz se
empequehecio mientras se adentraba en el vasto salon, y luego subio danzando
en el aire. Bilbo escalaba ahora el monticulo del tesoro. Pronto llego a la cima,
pero no se detuvo. Luego vieron que se inclinaba, y no supieron por que.

Era la Piedra del Area, el Corazon de la Montana. Asi lo supuso Bilbo por la
description de Thorin; no podia haber otra joya semejante, ni en ese maravilloso
botin, ni en el mundo entero. Aun mientras subia, ese mismo resplandor bianco
habia brillado atrayendolo. Luego crecio poco a poco hasta convertirse en un
globo de luz palida. Cuando Bilbo se acerco, vio que la superficie titilaba con un
centelleo de muchos colores, reflejos y destellos de la ondulante luz de la
antorcha. Al fin pudo contemplarla a sus pies, y se quedo sin aliento. La gran joya
brillaba con luz propia, y aun asi, cortada y tallada por los enanos, que la habian
extraido del corazon de la montaha hacia ya bastante tiempo, recogia toda la luz



146



que caia sobre ella y la transformaba en diez mil chispas de radiante blancura
irisada.

De repente el brazo de Bilbo se adelanto, atraido por el hechizo de la joya — No
podia tenerla en la manita, era tan grande y pesada, pero la levanto, cerro los ojos
y se la metio en el bolsillo mas profundo.

"jAhora soy realmente un saqueador!" penso. "Pero supongo que tendre que
decirselo a los enanos... algun dia. Ellos me dijeron que podia elegir y tomar mi
par te, y creo que elegiria esto, jsi ellos se llevan todo lo demas!". De cualquier
modo tenia la incomoda sospecha de que eso de 'elegir y tomar' no incluia esta
maravillosa joya. y que un dia le traeria dificultades.

Siguio adelante y emprendio el descenso por el otro lado del gran monticulo, y el
resplandor de la antorcha desaparecio de la vista de los enanos. Pero pronto
volvieron a verb a lo lejos. Bilbo estaba cruzando el salon.

Avanzo asi hasta encontrarse con las grandes puertas en el extremo opuesto, y
alii una corriente de aire lo refresco, aunque casi le apago la antorcha. Asomo
timidamente la cabeza, y desde la puerta vio Unos pasillos enormes y el sombrio
comienzo de unas amplias escaleras que subian en la oscuridad. Pero tampoco
alii habia rastros de Smaug. Justo en el momento en que iba a dar media vuelta y
regresar, una forma negra se precipito sobre el y le rozo la cara. Bilbo se
sobresalto, chillo, se tambaleo y cayo hacia atras. jl_a antorcha golpeo el suelo y
se apago!

— jSolo un murcielago, supongo y espero! — dijo con voz lastimosa — . <j,Pero
ahora que hare? ^Donde esta el norte, el sur, el este, o el oeste?

— jThorin! jBalin! jOinljGloin! jFiliyKili!

Debilmente los enanos oyeron estos gritos, pero la unica palabra que pudieron
entender fue "jsocorro!"

— ^Pero que demonios pasa dentro o fuera? — dijo Thorin — . No puede ser el
dragon, sino el hobbit no seguiria chillando.

Esperaron un rato, pero no se oia ningun ruido de dragon, en verdad ningun otro
sonido que la distante voz de Bilbo. — jVamos, que uno de vosotros traiga una o
dos antorchas! — ordeno Thorin — Parece que tendremos que ayudar a nuestro
saqueador.

— Ahora nos toca a nosotros ayudar — dijo Balin — , y estoy dispuesto. Espero sin
embargo que por el momento no haya peligro.

Gloin encendio varias antorchas mas, y luego todos salieron arrastrandose, uno a
uno, y fueron bordeando la pared lo mas aprisa que pudieron. No paso mucho
tiempo antes de que se encontrasen con el propio Bilbo que venia de vuelta.
Habia recobrado todo su aplomo tan pronto como viera el parpadeo de luces.

— jSolo un murcielago y una antorcha que se cayo,nada peor! — dijo en respuesta
a las preguntas de los enanos. Aunque se sentian muy aliviados, les enfadaba que
los hubiese asustado sin motivo; pero como hubieran reaccionado si en ese



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momento el hubiese dicho algo de la Piedra del Area, no lo se. Los meros
destellos fugaces del tesoro que alcanzaron a ver mientras avanzaban, les habia
reavivado el fuego en los corazones, y cuando un enano, aun el mas respetable,
siente en el corazon el deseo de oro y joyas, puede transformarse de pronto en
una criatura audaz, y llegar a ser violenta.

Los enanos no necesitaban ya que los apremiasen. Todos estaban ahora ansiosos
por explorar el salon mientras fuera posible, y deseando creer que por ahora
Smaug estaba fuera de casa. Todos llevaban antorchas encendidas; y mientras
miraban a un lado y a otro olvidaron el miedo y aun la cautela. Hablaban en voz
alta, y se llamaban unos a otros a gritos a medida que sacaban viejos tesoros del
monticulo o de la pared y les sostenian a la luz, tocandolos y acariciandolos.

Fili y Kili estaban de bastante buen humor, y viendo que alii colgaban todavia
muchas arpas de oro con cuerdas de plata, las tomaron y se pusieron a rasguear;
y como eran instrumentes magicos (y tampoco habian sido manejadas por el
dragon, que tenia muy poco interes por la musica), aun estaban afinadas. En el
salon oscuro resono ahora una melodia que no se oia desde hacia tiempo. Pero
los enanos eran en general mas practicos: recogian joyas y se atiborraban los
bolsillos, y lo que no podian llevar lo dejaban caer entre los dedos abiertos,
suspirando. Thorin no era el menos activo, e iba de un lado a otro buscando algo
que no podia encontrar. Era la Piedra del Area; pero todavia no se lo habia dicho a
nadie.

En ese momento los enanos descolgaron de las paredes unas armas y unas cotas
de malla, y se armaron ellos mismos. Un rey en verdad parecia Thorin, vestido con
un abrigo de anillas doradas, y con un hacha de empuhadura de plata en el
cinturon tachonado con piedras rojas.

— jSehor Bolson! — dijo — jAqui tienes el primer pago de tu recompensa! jTira tu
viejo abrigo y toma este!

En seguida le puso a Bilbo una pequeha cota de malla, forjada para algun joven
principe elfo tiempo atras. Era de esa plata que los elfos llamaban mithril, y con
ella iba un cinturon de perlas y cristales Un casco liviano que por fuera parecia de
cuero, reforzado debajo por unas argollas de acero y con gemas blancas en el
borde, fue colocado sobre la cabeza del hobbit,

"Me siento magnifico", penso "pero supongo que he de parecer bastante ridicule
jComo se reirian alia en casa, en la Colina! jCon todo, me gustaria tener un
espejo a mano!"

Pero aun asi el hechizo del tesoro no pesaba tanto sobre el sehor Bolson como
sobre los enanos. Bastante tiempo antes de que los enanos se cansaran de
examinar el botin, el ya estaba aburrido y se sento en el suelo; y empezo a
preguntarse nervioso como terminaria todo. "Dana muchas de estas preciosas
copas", penso, "por un trago de algo reconfortante en un cuenco de madera de
Beorn."



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— jThorin! — grito — , <j,Y ahora que? Estamos armados, «j,pero de que sirvieron
antes las armaduras contra Smaug el Terrible? El tesoro no ha sido recobrado
aun. No buscamos oro, sino una salida: jy hemos tentado demasiado la suene!

— jEstas en lo cierto! — respondio Thorin, saliendo de su aturdimiento — .
jVamonos! Yo os guiare. Ni en mil ahos podria yo olvidar los laberintos de este
palacio, — Luego llamo a los otros, que empezaron a agruparse, y sosteniendo
altas las antorchas atravesaron las puertas, no sin echar atras miradas ansiosas.

Habian vuelto a cubrir las mallas resplandecientes con las viejas capas, y los
cascos brillantes con los capuchones harapientos, y uno tras otro seguian a
Thorin.

Una hilera de lucecitas en la oscuridad que a menudo se detenfan, cuando los
enanos escuchaban temerosos, atentos a cualquier ruido que anunciara la llegada
del dragon.

Aunque el tiempo habia pulverizado o destruido los adornos antiguos y aunque
todo estaba sucio y desordenado con las idas y venidas del monstruo, Thorin
conocia cada pasadizo y cada recoveco. Subieron por largas escaleras, torcieron
y bajaron por pasillos anchos y resonantes, volvieron a torcer y subieron aun mas
escaleras. y de nuevo aun mas escaleras. Talladas en la roca viva, eran lisas,
amplias y regulares; y los enanos subieron y subieron, y no encontraron ninguna
sehal de criatura viviente, solo unas sombras furtivas que huian de la proximidad
de las antorchas, estremecidas por las corrientes de aire,

De cualquier manera los escalones no estaban hechos para piernas de hobbit, y
Bilbo empezaba a sentir que no podria seguir asi mucho mas, cuando de pronto el
techo se elevo; las antorchas no alcanzaban ahora a iluminarlo. Lejos, alia arriba,
se podia distinguir un resplandor bianco que atravesaba una abertura, y el aire
tenia un olor mas dulce. Delante de ellos una luz tenue asomaba por unas
grandes puertas, medio quemadas, y que aun colgaban torcidas de los goznes.

— Esta es la gran camara de Thror — dijo Thorin — , el salon de fiestas y de
reuniones. La Puerta Principal no queda muy lejos.

Cruzaron la camara arruinada. Las mesas se estaban pudriendo alii; sillas y
bancos yacian patas arriba, carbonizados y carcomidos. Craneos y huesos
estaban tirados por el suelo entre jarros, cuencos, cuernos de beber destrozadas v
polvo. Luego de cruzar otras puertas en el fondo de la camara, un rumor de agua
llego hasta ellos, v la luz grisacea de repente se aclaro.

— Ahi esta el nacimiento del Rio Rapido — dijo Thorin — Desde aqui corre hacia la
Puerta. jSigamoslo!

De una abertura oscura en una pared de roca, manaba un agua hirviendo, y fluia
en remolinos por un estrecho canal que la habilidad de unas manos ancestrales
habia excavado, enderezado y encauzado. A un lado se extendia una calzada
pavimentada, bastante ancha como para que varios hombres pudieran marchar de
frente. Fueron de prisa por la calzada, y he aqui que luego de un recodo la clara



149



luz del dia aparecio ante ellos. Alii delante se levantaba un arco elevado, que aun
guardaba los fragmentos de unas obras talladas, aunque deterioradas,
ennegrecidas y rotas. Un sol neblinoso enviaba una palida luz entre los brazos de
la Montana, y unos rayos de oro caian sobre el pavimento del umbral.

Un torbellino de murcielagos arrancados de su letargo por las antorchas
humeantes, revoloteaba sobre ellos, que marchaban a saltos, deslizandose sobre
piedras que el dragon habia alisado y desgastado. Ahora el agua se precipitaba
ruidosa, y descendia en espumas hasta el valle. Dejaron caer las antorchas
palidas y miraron asombrados. Habian llegado a la Puerta Principal, y Valle estaba
ahi fuera.

— jBien! — dijo Bilbo — , nunca crei que llegaria a mirar desde esta puerta; y nunca
crei estar tan contento de ver el sol de nuevo, y sentir el viento en la cara. Pero
juf! este viento es frio.

Lo era. Una brisa helada soplaba del este con la amenaza del invierno incipiente.
Se arremolinaba sobre los brazos de la Montana y alrededor bajando hasta el
valle, y suspiraba por entre las rocas. Despues de haber estado tanto tiempo en
las sofocantes profundidades de aquellas cavernas encantadas, Bilbo y los
enanos tiritaban al sol.



De pronto Bilbo cayo en la cuenta de que no solo estaba cansado sino tambien
muv hambriento. — La mahana ha de estar ya bastante avanzada — dijo — , y
supongo que es la hora del desayuno... si hay algo para desayunar. Pero no creo
que las puertas de Smaug sean el lugar mas apropiado para ponerse a comer.
jVayamos a un sitio donde estemos un rato tranquilos!

— De acuerdo — dijo Balin — , creo que se a donde tenemos que ir: al viejo puesto
de observacion en el borde sudeste de la Montana.

— <j,Que lejos esta? — pregunto el hobbit.

— A unas cinco horas de marcha, yo diria. Sera una marcha dura. La senda de la
Puerta en la ladera izquierda del arroyo parece estar toda cortada. jPero mira alia
abajo! El no se tuerce de pronto al este de Valle, f rente a la ciudad en ruinas. En
ese punto hubo una vez un puente que llevaba a unas escaleras empinadas en la
orilla derecha, y luego a un camino que coma hacia la Colina del Cuervo. Alii hay
(o habia) un sendero que dejaba el camino y subia hasta el puesto de
observacion. Una dura escalada tambien, aun si las viejas gradas estan todavia
alii.

— jSehor! — gruho el hobbit — . jMas caminatas y escaladas sin desayuno! Me
pregunto cuantos desayunos y Otras comidas habremos perdido dentro de ese
agujero inmundo, que no tiene relojes ni tiempo.

En realidad habian pasado dos noches y el dia entre ellas (y no por completo sin
comida) desde que el dragon destrozara la puerta magica, pero Bilbo habia
perdido la cuenta del tiempo, y para el tanto podia haber pasado una noche como
una semana de noches.



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— jVamos, vamos! — dijo Thorin riendose. Se sentia mas animado y hacia sonar
las piedras preciosas que tenia en los bolsillos — . jNo Names a mi palacio un
agujero inmundo! jEspera a que este limpio y decorado!

— Eso no ocurrira hasta que Smaug haya muerto — dijo Bilbo, sombrio — . Mientras
tanto, ^donde esta? Da ria un buen desayuno por saberlo. jEspero que no este
alia arriba en la Montana, observandonos!

Esa idea inquieto mucho a los enanos, y decidieron en seguida que Bilbo y Balm
ten fan razon.



— Tenemos que alejarnos de aqui — dijo Dori — , siento corno si me estuviesen
clavando los ojos en la nuca.

— Es un lugar frio e inhospito — dijo Bombur — , Puede que haya algo de beber
pero no veo indicios de comida. En lugares asi un dragon esta siempre
hambriento.

— jAdelante, adelante! — gritaron los otros — Sigamos la senda de Balin.

A la derecha, bajo la muralla rocosa, no habia ningun sendero, y marcharon
penosamente entre las piedras por la ribera izquierda del no, y en la desolacion y
el vacio pronto se sintieron otra vez desanimados, aun el propio Thorin. Llegaron
al puente del que Balin habia hablado y descubrieron que habia caido hacia
tiempo, y muchas de las piedras eran ahora solo unos cascajos en el arroyo
ruidoso y poco profundo; pero vadearon el agua sin dificultad, y encontraron los
antiguos escalones, y treparon por la alta ladera. Despues de un corto trecho
dieron con el viejo camino, y no tardaron en llegar a una cariada profunda
resguardada entre las rocas; alii descansaron un rato y desayunaron como
pudieron, sobre todo cram y agua. (Si quereis saber lo que es un cram, solo puedo
decir que no conozco la receta. pero parece un bizcocho, nunca se estropea,
dicen que tiene tuerza nutricia, y en verdad no es muy entretenido, y muy poco
interesante, excepto como ejercicio de las mandibulas. Los preparaban los
Hombres del Lago para los largos viajes.)

Luego de esto siguieron caminando y ahora la senda iba hacia el oeste,
alejandose del no, y el lomo de la estribacion montahosa que apuntaba al sur se
acercaba cada vez mas. Por fin alcanzaron el sendero de la colina. Subia en una
pendiente abrupta, y avanzaron lentamente uno tras otro hasta que a la caida de
la tarde llegaron al fin a la cima de la sierra y vieron el sol invernal que descendia
en el oeste.

El sitio en que estaban ahora era llano y abierto, pero en la pared rocosa del norte
habia una abertura que parecia una puerta. Desde esta puerta se veia un extenso
escenario, al sur, el este y el oeste.

— Aqui — dijo Balin — en los viejos tiempos teniamos casi siempre gente que
vigilaba, y esa puerta de atras Neva a una camara excavada en la roca: un cuarto
para el vigia. Habia otros sitios semejantes alrededor de la Montana. Pero en
aquellos dias prosperos, la vigilancia no parecia muy necesaria, y los guardias



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estaban quiza demasiado comodos... En fin. si nos hubieran advenido a tiempo de
la llegada del dragon, todo habria sido diferente. No obstante, aqui podemos
quedamos escondidos y al resguardo por un rato, y ver mucho sin que nos vean,

— De poco servira si nos han visto venir aqui — dijo Dori, que siempre estaba
mirando hacia el pico de la Montana, como si esperase ver alii a Smaug, posado
como un pajaro sobre un campanario.

— Tenemos que arriesgarnos — dijo Thorin — . Hoy no podemos ir mas lejos.

— jBien, bien! — grito Bilbo, y se echo al suelo. En la camara de roca habria lugar
para cien, y mas adentro habia otra camara mas pequeha, mas protegida del frio
de fuera. No habia nada en el interior, y parecia que ni siquiera los animales
salvajes habian estado alguna vez alii en los dias del dominio de Smaug. Todos
dejaron las cargas; algunos se arrojaron al suelo y se quedaron dormidos, pero
otros se sentaron cerca de la puerta y discutieron los planes posibles. Durante
toda la conversacion volvian una v otra vez a un mismo problema: ^donde estaba
Smaug? Miraban al oeste y no habia nada, al este y no habia nada, al sur v no
habia ningun rastro del dragon, aunque alii revoloteaba una bandada de muchos
pajaros — Se quedaron mirando, perplejos; pero aun no habian llegado a
entenderlo, cuando asomaron las primeras estrellas Mas.

EL ENCUENTRO DE LAS NUBES

Volvamos ahora con Bilbo y los enanos. Uno de ellos habia vigilado toda la noche,
pero cuando llego la mahana, no habia visto ni oido ninguna sehal de peligro. Sin
embargo, la congregation de los pajaros seguia creciendo. Las bandadas se
acercaban volando desde el — Sur; y los grajos que todavia vivian en los
alrededores de la Montana, revoloteaban y chillaban incesantemente alia arriba.

— Algo extraho esta ocurriendo — dijo Thorin — . Ya ha pasado el tiempo de los
revoloteos otohales; y estos pajaros siempre moran en tierra: hay estorninos y
bandadas de pinzones, y a lo lejos pajaros carroheros, como si se estuviese
librando una batalla.

De repente Bilbo apunto con el dedo: — jAhf esta el viejo zorzal oira vez! — grito — .
Parece haber escapado cuando Smaug aplasto la ladera, jaunque no creo que se
hayan salvado tambien los caracoles!

Era en verdad el viejo zorzal, y mientras Bilbo sehalaba. voto hacia ellos y se poso
en una piedra proxima. Luego sacudio las alas y canto; y torcio la cabeza a un
lado, como escuchando; y otra vez canto, y otra vez escucho.

— Creo que trata de decirnos algo — dijo Balin — , pero no puedo seguir esa
garruleria, es muy rapida y dificil. ^Puedes entenderla, Bolson?

— No muy bien — dijo Bilbo, que no entendia ni jota — , pero parece muy excitado.

— i Si al menos fuese un cuervo! — dijo Balin.

— i Pense que no te gustaban! Parecias recelar de ellos Cuando vinimos por aqui
la ultima vez.



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— jAquellos eran grajos! Criaturas desagradables de aspecto sospechoso, ademas
de groseras. Tendrias que haber oido los horribles nombres con que nos iban
llamando. Pero los cuervos son diferentes. Hubo una gran amistad entre ellos y la
gente de Thror; a menudo nos traian noticias secretas y los recompensabamos
con cosas brillantes que ellos escondian en sus moradas.

"Vivian muchos ahos, y tenian una memoria larga, y esta sabiduria pasaba de
padres a hijos. Conoci a muchos de los cuervos de las rocas cuando era
muchacho. Esta misma altura se llamo una vez Colina del Cuervo, pues una
pareja sabia y famosa, el viejo Care y su compahera, vivian aqui sobre el cuarto
del guardia. Pero no creo que nadie de ese viejo linaje este ahora en estos sitios.

Aun no habia terminado de hablar, cuando el viejo zorzal dio un grito, y en seguida
se fue volando.

— Quiza nosotros no lo entendamos, pero ese viejo pajaro nos entiende a
nosotros, estoy seguro — dijo Balin — . Observemos y veamos que pasa ahora.

Pronto hubo un batir de alas, y de vuelta aparecio el zorzal; y con el vino otro
pajaro muy viejo y decrepito. Era un cuervo enorme y centenario, casi ciego y de
cabeza desplumada, que apenas podia volar. Se poso rigido en el suelo ante
ellos, sacudio lentamente las alas, y saludo a Thorin bamboleando la cabeza.

— Oh Thorin hijo de Thrain, y Balin hijo de Fundin — grazno (y Bilbo entendio lo
que dijo, pues el cuervo hablaba la lengua ordinaria y no la de los pajaros) — . Yo
soy Roac hijo de Care. Care ha muerto, pero en un tiempo lo conocias bien. Deje
el cascaron hace ciento cincuenta y tres anos, pero no olvido lo que mi padre me
dijo. Ahora soy el jefe de los grandes cuervos de la Montana. Somos pocos, pero
recordamos todavia al rey de antaho. La mayor parte de mi gente esta lejos, pues
hay grandes noticias en el sur... algunas seran buenas nuevas para vosotros, y
algunas no os pareceran tan buenas.

"! Mirad! Los pajaros se reunen otra vez en la Montana y en Valle desde el sur, el
este y el oeste, jpues se ha corrido la voz de que Smaug ha muerto!

— i Muerto! j Muerto! — gritaron los enanos — . j Muerto! Hemos estado atemorizados
sin motivo entonces, jy el tesoro es nuestro otra vez! — Todos se pusieron en pie
de un salto y vitorearon con los gorros en la mano.

— Si, muerto — dijo Roac — . El zorzal, que nunca se le caigan las plumas, lo vio
morir, y podemos confiar en lo que dice. Lo vio caer mientras luchaba con los
hombres de Esgaroth, hara hoy tres noches, a la salida de la luna.

Paso algun tiempo antes de que Thorin pudiese calmar a los enanos y escuchar
las nuevas del cuervo. Por fin, el pajaro acabo el relato de la batalla, y prosiguio:

— Hay mucho de que alegrarse, Thorin Escudo de Roble. Puedes volver seguro a
tus salones; todo el tesoro es tuyo, por el momento. Pero muchos vendran a
reunirse aqui ademas de los pajaros. Las noticias de la muerte del guardian han
volado ya a lo largo y ancho del pais, y la leyenda de la riqueza de Thror no ha
dejado de aparecer en cuentos, durante ahos y ahos; muchos estan ansiosos por
compartir el botin. Ya una hueste de elfos esta en camino, y los pajaros carroheros



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los acompanan, esperando la batalla y la carniceria. Junto al Lago los hombres
murmuran que los enanos son los verdaderos culpables de tanta desgracia, pues
se han quedado sin hogar, muchos han muerto, y Smaug ha destruido Esgaroth.
Tambien ellos esperan que vuestro tesoro repare los dahos, esteis vivos o
muertos.

"Vuestra decidira, pero trece es un pequeno resto del gran pueblo de Durin que
una vez habito aqui, y que ahora esta disperso y en tierras lejanas. Si quereis mi
consejo, no confieis en el gobernador de los Hombres del Lago, pero si en aquel
que mato al dragon con una flecha. Bardo se llama, y es de la raza de Valle, de la
linea de Girion; un hombre sombrio, pero sincere Una vez mas buscara la paz
entre los enanos, hombres y elfos, despues de la gran desolacion; pero ello puede
costarte caro en oro. He dicho.

Entonces Thorin estallo de rabia: — Nuestro agradecimiento, Roac hijo de Care. Tu
y tu pueblo no sereis olvidados. Pero ni los ladrones ni los violentos se llevaran
una pizca de nuestro oro, mientras sigamos con vida. Si quieres que te estemos
aun mas agradecidos, traenos noticias de cualquiera que se acerque. Tambien
quisiera pedirte, si alguno de los tuyos es aun fuerte y joven de alas, que envies
mensajeros a nuestros parientes en las montahas del Norte, tanto al este como al
oeste de aqui, y les hables de nuestra dificil situacion. Pero ve especialmente a mi
primo Dain en las Colinas de Hierro, pues tiene mucha gente bien armada y vive
cerca. jDile que se de prisa!

— No dire si es bueno o malo ese consejo — grazno Roac — , pero hare lo que
pueda — y se alejo volando lentamente.

— jDe vuelta ahora a la Montana! — grito Thorin — , Tenemos poco tiempo que
perder.

— jY tambien poco que comer! — chillo Bilbo, siempre practico en tales cuestiones.
En cualquier caso, sentia que la aventura, hablando con propiedad, habia
terminado con la muerte del dragon — en lo que estaba muy equivocado — y
hubiese dado buena parte de lo que a el le tocaba por la pacifica conclusion de
estos asuntos.

— jDe vuelta a la Montana! — gritaron los enanos, como si no lo hubiesen oido; asi
que tuvo que ir de vuelta con ellos.

Como ya estais enterados de algunos acontecimientos, sabreis que los enanos
disponian aun de unos pocos dias. Una vez mas exploraron las cavernas, y
encontraron como esperaban que solo la Puerta Principal permanecia abierta;
todas las demas entradas (excepto, claro, la pequeha puerta secreta) hacia mucho
que habian sido destruidas y bloqueadas por Smaug, y no quedaba ni rastro de
ellas. De modo que se pusieron a trabajar duro en las fortificaciones de la entrada
principal, y en abrir un nuevo sendero que llevase hasta ella. Encontraron muchas
de las herramientas de los mineros, canteros y constructores de antaho, y en tales
trabajos los enanos eran aun habilidosos.

Entretanto, los cuervos no dejaban de traer noticias. De esta manera supieron que
el Rey Elfo marchaba ahora hacia el Lago, y tenian unos dias de respiro. Mejor



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aun, oyeron que tres de los poneys habian huido y se encontraban vagando
salvajes alia abajo, en la ribera del Rio Rapido, no lejos del resto de las
provisiones. Asi, mientras los otros continuaban trabajando, enviaron a Fili y Kili,
guiados por un cuervo, a buscar los poneys y traer todo lo que pudieran.

Estuvieron cuatro dias fuera, y supieron entonces que los ejercitos unidos de los
Hombres del Lago y los Elfos corrian hacia la Montana. Pero ahora los enanos
estaban mas esperanzados, pues tenian comida para varias semanas, si se
cuidaban — sobre todo cram, por supuesto, y muy cansados estaban de ese
alimento, pero mejor es cram que nada — y ya la Puerta estaba bloqueada con un
parapeto alto y ancho, de piedras regulares, puestas una sobre otra. Habia
agujeros en el parapeto por los que se podia mirar (o disparar), pero ninguna
entrada. Entraban y salian con la ayuda de una escalera de mano, y subian con
cuerdas las cosas. Para la salida del arroyo habian dispuesto un arco pequeno y
bajo en el nuevo parapeto; pero cerca de la entrada habian cambiado tanto el
lecho angosto que toda una laguna se extendia ahora desde la pared de la
montaha hasta el principio de la cascada que llevaba el arroyo hacia Valle.
Aproximarse a la Puerta solo era posible a nado, o escurriendose a lo largo de una
repisa angosta, que coma a la derecha del risco, mirando desde la entrada.
Habian traido los poneys hasta el principio de las escaleras sobre el puente viejo,
y luego de descargarlos los habian mandado de vuelta a sus duehos, enviandolos
sin jinetes al Sur.

Llego una noche en la que de pronto aparecieron muchas luces, como de fuegos y
antorchas, lejos hacia el sur en Valle.

— jHan llegado! — anuncio Balin — . Y el campamento es grande de veras. Tienen
que haber entrado en el valle a lo largo de las riberas del no, ocultandose en el
crepusculo.

Poco durmieron esa noche los enanos. La mahana era palida aun cuando vieron
que se aproximaba una compahia. Desde detras del parapeto observaron como
subian hasta la cabeza del valle y trepaban lentamente. Pronto pudieron ver que
entre ellos venian hombres del lago armados como para la guerra y arqueros
elfos. Por fin, la vanguardia escalo las rocas caidas y aparecio en lo alto del
torrente; mucho se sorprendieron cuando vieron la laguna y la Puerta Principal
obstruida por un parapeto de piedra recien tallada.

Mientras estaban alii sehalando y hablando entre ellos, Thorin los increpo: —
^Quienes sois vosotros — dijo en voz muy alta — que venis como en guerra a las
puertas de Thorin hijo de Thrain, Rey bajo la Montaha, y que deseais?

Pero no le respondieron. Algunos dieron una rapida media vuelta, y los otros,
luego de observar con detenimiento la Puerta, y como estaba defendida, pronto
fueron detras de ellos. Ese mismo dia el campamento se traslado al este del no,
justo entre los brazos de la Montaha. Voces y canciones resonaron entonces entre
las rocas como no habia ocurrido por muchisimo tiempo. Se oia tambien el sonido
de las arpas elficas y de una musica dulce; y mientras los ecos subian, parecia
que el aire helado se entibiaba, y que la fragancia de las flores primaverales del
bosque llegaba debilmente hasta ellos.



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Entonces Bilbo deseo escapar de la fortaleza oscura y bajar y unirse a la alegria y
las fiestas junto a las fogatas. Algunos de los enanos mas jovenes se sentian
tambien conmovidos, y murmuraron que habria sido mejor que las cosas hubiesen
ocurrido de otra manera y poder recibir a esas gentes como amigos. Sin embargo,
Thorin fruncia el ceno.

Entonces tambien los enanos sacaron arpas e instrumentos recobrados del botin y
tocaron para animar a Thorin; pero la cancion no era una cancion elfica y se
parecia bastante a la que habian cantado hacia mucho en el pequeho agujero —
hobbit de Bilbo:

jBajo la Montana tenebrosa y alta

el Rey ha regresado al palacio!

El enemigo ha muerto, el Gusano Terrible,

y asi una vez y otra caera el adversario.

La espada es afilada, y es larga la lanza,

veloz la flecha, y fuerte la Puerta,

osado el cor aun que mira el oro;

y ya nadie hara daho a los enanos.

Los enanos echaban hechizos poderosos,

mientras las mazas tahian como campanas,

en simas donde duermen unos seres oscuros,

en salas huecas bajo las montahas.

En collares de plata entretejian

a luz de las estrellas, en coronas colgaban

el fuego del dragon; de alambres retorcidos

arrancaban musica a las arpas.

jEl trono de la Montana otra vez liberado!

^Atended la llamada, oh pueblo aventurero!
El rey necesita amigos y parientes.
jMarchad de prisa en el desierto!
Hoy llamamos en montahas heladas!
jregresad a las viejas cavernas!
Aqui a las Puertas el rey espera,
las manos colmadas de oro y gemas.
jBajo la Montana tenebrosa y alta,



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el rey ha regresado al palacio!

jEl Gusano Terrible ha caido y ha muerto,

y asi una vez y otra caera el adversario!

Esta cancion parecio apaciguar a Thorin, que sonrio de nuevo y se mostro mas
alegre; y se puso a estimar la distancia que los separaba de las Colinas de Hierro
y cuanto tiempo pasaria antes de que Dain pudiese llegar a la Montana Solitaria, si
se habia puesto en camino tan pronto como recibiera el mensaje. Pero el animo
de Bilbo decayo, tanto por la cancion como por la charla: sonaban demasiado
belicosas.

A la mahana siguiente, temprano, una compahia de lanceros cruzo el no y marcho
valle arriba. Llevaban con ellos el estandarte verde del Rey Elfo y el azul del Lago
y avanzaron hasta que estuvieron Justo delante del parapeto de la Puerca.

De nuevo Thorin les hablo en voz alta. — ^Quienes sois que llegais armados para
la guerra a las puertas de Thorin hijo de Thrain, Rey bajo la Montana? — Esta vez
le respondieron.

Un hombre alto de cabellos oscuros y cara cehuda se adelanto y grito: — jSalud,
Thorin! ^Por que te encierras como un ladron en la guarida? Nosotros no somos
enemigos y nos alegramos de que estes con vida, mas alia de nuestra esperanza.
Vinimos suponiendo que no habria aqui nadie vivo, pero ahora que nos hemos
encontrado hay razones para hablar y parlamentar.

— ^Quien eres tu y de que quieres hablar?

— Soy Bardo y por mi mano murio el dragon y fue liberado el tesoro. ^No te
importa? Mas aun, soy, por derecho de descendencia, el heredero de Girion de
Valle, y en tu botin esta mezclada mucha de la riqueza de los salones y villas de
Valle, que el viejo Smaug robo. <j,No es asunto del que podamos hablar? Ademas,
en su ultima batalla Smaug destruyo las moradas de los Hombres de Esgaroth y
yo soy aun siervo del gobernador. Por el hablare, y pregunto si no has
considerado la tristeza y la miseria de ese pueblo. Te ayudaron en tus penas, y en
recompensa no has traido mas que ruina; aunque sin duda involuntaria.

Bien, estas eran palabras hermosas y verdaderas. aunque dichas con orgullo y
expresion cehuda; y Bilbo penso que Thorin reconoceria en seguida cuanta
justicia habia en ellas. Por supuesto, no esperaba que nadie recordara que habia
sido el quien descubriera el punto debil del dragon; y esto tambien era justo, pues
nadie lo sabia. Pero no tuvo en cuenta el poder del oro que un dragon ha cuidado
durante mucho tiempo, ni los corazones de los enanos. En los ultimos dias Thorin
habia pasado largas horas en la sala del tesoro, y la avaricia le endurecia ahora el
corazon. Aunque buscaba sobre todo la Piedra del Area, sabia apreciar las otras
muchas cosas maravillosas que alii habia, unidas por viejos recuerdos a los
trabajos y penas de los enanos.

— Has puesto la peor de tus razones en el lugar ultimo y mas importante —
respondio Thorin — . Al tesoro de mi pueblo, ningun hombre tiene derecho, pues



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Smaug nos arrebato junto con el la vida o el hogar. El tesoro no era suyo, y los
actos malvados de Smaug no nan de ser reparados con una parte. El precio por
las mercancias y la ayuda recibida de los Hombres del Lago la pagaremos con
largueza... cuando llegue el momento. Pero no daremos nada, ni siquiera lo que
vale una hogaza de pan, bajo amenaza o por la fuerza. Mientras una hueste
armada este acosandonos, os consideraremos enemigos y ladrones.

"Y te preguntaria ademas que parte de nuestra herencia habrias dado a los
enanos si hubieras encontrado el tesoro sin vigilancia y a nosotros muertos.

— Una pregunta justa — respondio Bardo — Pero vosotros no estais muertos y
nosotros no somos ladrones. Por otra parte, los ricos podrian compadecerse, y
aun en exceso, de los menesterosos que les ofrecieron ayuda cuando ellos
pasaban necesidad. Y aun no has respondido a mis otras demandas.

— No parlamentare, como ya he dicho, con hombres armados a mi puerta. Y de
ningun modo con la gente del Rey Elfo, a quien recuerdo con poca simpatia. En
esta discusion, el no tiene parte. jAlejate ahora, antes de que nuestras flechas
vuelen! Y si has de volver a hablar conmigo, primero manda la hueste elfica a los
bosques a que pertenecen, y regresa entonces, deponiendo las armas antes de
acercarte al umbral.

— El Rey Elfo es mi amigo, y ha socorrido a la gente del Lago cuando era
necesario, solo obligado por la amistad — respondio Bardo — Te daremos tiempo
para arrepentirte de tus palabras. jRecobra tu sabiduria antes que volvamos! —
Luego Bardo partio y regreso al campamento.

Antes de que hubiesen pasado muchas horas, volvieron los portaestandartes, y
los trompeteros se adelantaron y soplaron.

— En nombre de Esgaroth y el Bosque — grito uno — , hablamos a Thorin hijo de
Thrain, Escudo de Roble, que se dice Rey bajo la Montana, y le pedimos que
reconsidere las reclamaciones que han sido presentadas o sera declarado nuestro
enemigo. Entregara, por lo menos, la doceava parte del tesoro a Bardo, por haber
matado a Smaug y como heredero de Girion. Con esa parte, Bardo ayudara a
Esgaroth; pero si Thorin quiere tener la amistad y el respeto de las tierras de
alrededor, como los tuvieron sus antecesores, tambien el dara algo para alivio de
los Hombres del Lago.

Entonces Thorin tomo un arco de cuerno y disparo una flecha al que hablaba.
Golpeo con fuerza el escudo y alii se quedo clavada, temblando.

— Ya que esta es tu respuesta — dijo el otro a su vez — , declaro la Montana
sitiada. No saldreis de ella hasta que nos llameis para acordar una tregua y
parlamentar. No alzaremos armas contra vosotros, pero os abandonamos a
vuestras riquezas. jPodeis comeros el oro, si quereis!

Los mensajeros partieron luego rapidamente y dejaron solos a los enanos. Thorin
tenia ahora una expresion tan sombria, que nadie se hubiera atrevido a
censurarlo, aunque la mayoria parecia estar de acuerdo con el, excepto quiza el



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gordo Bombur, Fili y Kili. Bilbo, por supuesto, desaprobaba del todo el cariz que
habian tornado las cosas. Ya estaba bastante mas que harto de la Montana, y no
le gustaba nada que lo sitiaran dentro de ella.

— Todo este lugar hiede aun a dragon — gruno entre dientes — , y eso me pone
enfermo. Y ademas empiezo a notar que el cram se me queda pegado a la
garganta.



UN LADRON EN LA NOCHE

Ahora los dias se sucedian lentos y aburridos. Muchos de los enanos pasaban el
tiempo apilando y clasificando el tesoro; y ahora Thorin hablaba de la Piedra del
Area de Thrain, y mandaba ansiosamente que la buscasen por todos los rincones.

— Pues la Piedra del Area de mi padre — decia — vale mas que un no de oro, y
para mi no tiene precio. De todo el tesoro esa piedra la reclamo para mi, y me
vengare de aquel que la encuentre y la retenga.

Bilbo oyo estas palabras y se asusto, preguntandose que ocurriria si encontraban
la piedra, envuelta en un viejo hatillo de trapos harapientos que le servia de
almohada. De todos modos nada dijo, pues mientras el cansancio de los dias se
hacia cada vez mayor, los principios de un plan se le iban ordenando en la
cabecita.

Las cosas siguieron asi por algun tiempo hasta que los cuervos trajeron nuevas de
que Dain y mas de quinientos enanos, apresurandose desde las Colinas de Hierro,
estaban a unos dos dias de camino de Valle, viniendo del nordeste.

— Mas no alcanzaran indemnes la Montana — dijo Roac — , y mucho me temo que
habra batalla en el valle. No creo que convenga esa decision. Aunque son gente
ruda, no estan preparados para veneer a la hueste que os acosa; y aunque asi
fuera, <j,que ganariais? El invierno y las nieves se dan prisa tras ellos. ^Como os
alimentareis sin la amistad y hospitalidad de las tierras de alrededor? El tesoro
puede ser vuestra perdicion, jaunque el dragon ya no este!

Pero Thorin no se inmuto. — La mordedura del invierno y las nieves la sentiran
tanto los hombres como los elfos — dijo — , y es posible que no soporten quedarse
en estas tierras baldias. Con mis amigos detras y el invierno encima, quiza tengan
una disposition de animo mas flexible para parlamentar.

Esa noche Bilbo tomo una decision. El cielo estaba negro y sin luna. Tan pronto
como cayeron las tinieblas, fue hasta el rincon de una camara interior junto a la
entrada, y saco una cuerda del hatillo, y tambien la Piedra del Area envuelta en un
harapo. Luego trepo al parapeto. Solo Bombur estaba alii de guardia, pues los
enanos vigilaban turnandose de uno en uno.

— jQue frio horroroso! — dijo Bombur — . jDesearia tener una buena hoguera aqui
arriba como la que ellos tienen en el campamento!

— Dentro hace bastante calor — dijo Bilbo.



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— Lo creo; pero no puedo moverme de aqui hasta la medianoche — gruno el
enano gordo — Un verdadero fastidio. No es que me atreva a disentir de Thorin,
cuya barba crezca muchos anos; aunque siempre fue un enano bastante tieso.

— No tan tieso como mis piernas — dijo Bilbo — . Estoy cansado de escaleras y de
pasadizos de piedra. Dana cualquier cosa por poner los pies en el pasto.

— Yo daria cualquier cosa por echarme un trago de algo fuerte a la garganta, jy
por una cama blanda despues de una buena cena!

— No puedo darte eso, mientras dure el sitio. Pero ya hace tiempo que fue mi turno
de guardia, de modo que si quieres, puedo reemplazarte. No tengo sueno esta
noche.

— Eres una buena persona, senor Bolson, y aceptare con gusto tu ofrecimiento. Si
ocurre algo grave, llamame primero, jacuerdate! Dormire en la camara interior de
la izquierda, no muy lejos.

— jLargate! — dijo Bilbo — . Te despertare a medianoche, para que puedas
despertar al siguiente vigfa.

Tan pronto como Bombur se hubo ido, Bilbo se puso el anillo, se ato la cuerda, se
deslizo parapeto abajo, y desaparecio. Tenia unas cinco horas por delante.
Bombur dormiria (podia dormirse en cualquier momento, y desde la aventura en el
bosque estaba siempre tratando de recuperar aquellos hermosos suehos); y todos
los demas estaban ocupados con Thorin. Era poco probable que uno de ellos, aun
Fili o Kili, se acercase al parapeto hasta que les llegase el turno.

Estaba muy oscuro, y al cabo de un rato, cuando abandono la senda nueva y
descendio hacia el curso inferior del arroyo, ya no reconocio el camino. Al fin llego
al recodo, y si queria alcanzar el campamento tenia que cruzar el agua. El lecho
del no era alii poco profundo pero bastante ancho, y vadearlo en la oscuridad no
fue nada facil para el pequeho hobbit. Cuando estaba casi a punto de cruzarlo,
perdio pie sobre una piedra redonda y cayo chapoteando en el agua fria. Apenas
habia alcanzado la orilla opuesta, tiritando y farfullando, cuando en la oscuridad
aparecieron unos elfos, llevando linternas resplandecientes, en busca de la causa
del ruido.



— jEso no fue un pez! — dijo uno — . Hay un espia por aqui. jOcultad vuestras
luces! Le ayudarian mas a el que a nosotros, si se trata de esa criatura pequeha y
extraha que segun se dice es el criado de los enanos.

— jCriado, de veras! — bufo Bilbo; y en medio del bufido estornudo con fuerza, y
los elfos se agruparon en seguida y fueron hacia el sonido.

— jEncended una luz! — dijo Bilbo — . jEstoy aqui si me buscais! — y se saco el
anillo, y asomo detras de una roca.

Pronto se le echaron encima, a pesar de que estaban muy sorprendidos. —
^Quien eres? ^Eres el hobbit de los enanos? ^Que haces? ^Como pudiste llegar
tan lejos con nuestros centinelas? — preguntaron uno tras otro, — Soy el sehor



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Bilbo Bolson — respondio el hobbit — ,companero de Thorin, si deseais saberlo.
Conozco de vista a vuestro rey, aunque quiza el no me reconozca. Pero Bardo me
recordara y es a Bardo en especial a quien quisiera ver.



— jNo digas! — exclamaron — , <j,y que asunto te trae por aqui?



— Lo que sea, solo a mi me incumbe, mis buenos elfos. Pero si deseais salir de
este lugar frio y sombrio y regresar a vuestros bosques — respondio
estremeciendose — , llevadme en seguida a un buen fuego donde pueda secarme,
y luego dejadme hablar con vuestros jefes lo mas pronto posible. Tengo solo una o
dos horas.



Fue asi como unas dos horas despues de cruzar la Puerta, Bilbo estaba sentado
al calor de una hoguera delante de una tienda grande, y alii, tambien sentados,
observandolo con curiosidad, estaban el Rey Elfo y Bardo. Un hobbit en armadura
elfica, arropado en parte con una vieja manta, era algo nuevo para ellos.



— Sabeis realmente — decia Bilbo con sus mejores modales de negociador — , las
cosas se estan poniendo imposibles. Por mi parte estoy cansado de todo el
asunto. Desearia estar de vuelta alia en el Oeste, en mi casa, donde la gente es
mas razonable. Pero tengo cierto interes en este asunto, un catorceavo del total,
para ser precisos, de acuerdo con una carta que por fortuna creo haber
conservado. — Saco de un bolsillo de la vieja chaqueta (que llevaba aun sobre la
malla) un papel arrugado y plegado: jla carta de Thorin que habian puesto en
mayo debajo del reloj, sobre la repisa de la chimenea!



— Una parte de todos los beneficios, recordadlo — continuo — . Lo tengo muy bien
en cuenta. Personalmente estoy dispuesto a considerar con atencion vuestras
proposiciones, y deducir del total lo que sea justo, antes de exponer la mia. Sin
embargo, no conoceis a Thorin Escudo de Roble tan bien como yo. Os aseguro
que esta dispuesto a sentarse sobre un monton de oro y morirse de hambre,
mientras vosotros esteis aqui.

— jBien, que se quede! — dijo Bardo — . Un tonto como el merece morirse de
hambre.

— Tienes algo de razon — dijo Bilbo — . Entiendo tu punto de vista. A la vez ya
viene el invierno. Pronto habra nieve, y otras cosas, y el abastecimiento sera
dificil, aun para los elfos, creo. Habra tambien otras dificultades. ^No habeis oido
hablar de Dain y de los enanos de las Colinas de Hierro?

— Si, hace mucho tiempo; «j,pero en que nos atahe? — pregunto el rey.

— En mucho, me parece. Veo que no estais enterados. Dain, no lo dudeis, esta
ahora a menos de dos dias de marcha, y trae consigo por lo menos unos



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quinientos enanos, todos rudos, que en buena parte han participado en las
encarnizadas batallas entre enanos y trasgos, de las que sin duda habreis oido
hablar. Cuando lleguen, puede que haya dificultades serias.

— ^Por que nos lo cuentas? ^Estas traicionando a tus amigos, o nos amenazas?
— pregunto Bardo seriamente.

— i Mi querido Bardo! — chillo Bilbo — jNo te apresures! jNunca me habia
encontrado antes con gente tan suspicaz! Trato simplemente de evitar problemas
a todos los implicados. jAhora os hare una oferta!

— jOigamosIa! — exclamaron los otros.

— jPodeis verla! — dijo Bilbo — . jAqui esta! — y puso ante ellos la Piedra del Area,
y retiro la envoltura.

El propio Rey Elfo, cuyos ojos estaban acostumbrados a cosas bellas y
maravillosas, se puso de pie, asombrado. Hasta el mismo Bardo se quedo
mirandola maravillado y en silencio. Era como si hubiesen llenado un globo con la
luz de la luna, y colgase ante ellos en una red centelleante de estrellas
escarchadas.

— Esta es la Piedra del Area de Thrain — dijo Bilbo — , el Corazon de la Montana; y
tambien el corazon de Thorin. Tiene, segun el, mas valor que un no de oro.

Yo os la entrego. Os ayudara en vuestra negociacion,

— Luego Bilbo, no sin un estremecimiento, no sin una mirada ansiosa, entrego la
maravillosa piedra a Bardo, y este la sostuvo en la mano, como deslumbrado.

— Pero, <^es tuya para que nos la des asi? — pregunto al fin con un esfuerzo.

— jOh, bueno! — dijo el hobbit un poco incomodo — No exactamente; pero
desearia dejarla como garantia de mi proposition, sabeis. Puede que sea un
saqueador (al menos eso es lo que dicen: aunque nunca me he sentido tal cosa),
pero soy honrado, espero, bastante honrado. De un modo o de otro regreso ahora,
y los enanos pueden hacer conmigo lo que quieran. Espero que os sirva.

El Rey Elfo miro a Bilbo con renovado asombro.

— i Bilbo Bolson — dijo — . Eres mas digno de llevar la armadura de los principes
elfos que muchos que parecian vestirla con mas gallardfa. Pero me pregunto si
Thorin Escudo de Roble lo vera asi. En general conozco mejor que tu a los
enanos. Te aconsejo que te quedes con nosotros, y aqui seras recibido con todos
los honores y agasajado tres veces.

— Muchisimas gracias, no lo pongo en duda — dijo Bilbo con una reverencia —
Pero no puedo abandonar a mis amigos de este modo, me parece, despues de lo
que hemos pasado juntos. jY ademas prometi despertar al viejo Bombur a
medianoche! jRealmente tengo que marcharme, y rapido!

Nada de lo que dijeran iba a detenerlo, de modo que se le proporciono una
escolta, y cuando se pusieron en marcha, el rey y Bardo lo saludaron con respeto.
Cuando atravesaron el campamento, un anciano envuelto en una capa oscura se
levanto de la puerta de la tienda donde estaba sentado y se les acerco.



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— jBien hecho, senor Bolson! — dijo, dando a Bilbo una palmada en la espalda —
jHay siempre en ti mas de lo que uno espera! — Era Gandalf.

Por primera vez en muchos dias Bilbo estaba de verdad encantado. Mas no habia
tiempo para todas las preguntas que deseaba hacer en seguida.

— jTodo a su hora! — dijo Gandalf — Las cosas estan llegando a feliz termino, a
menos que me equivoque. Quedan todavia momentos dificiles por delante, jpero
no te desanimes! Tu puedes salir airoso. Pronto habra nuevas que ni siquiera los
cuervos han oido. jBuenas noches!

Asombrado pero contento, Bilbo se dio prisa. Lo llevaron hasta un vado seguro y
lo dejaron seco en la orilla opuesta; luego se despidio de los elfos y subio con
cuidado de regreso hacia el parapeto. Empezo a sentir un tremendo cansancio,
pero era bastante antes de medianoche cuando trepo otra vez por la cuerda; aun
estaba donde la habia dejado. La desato y la oculto, y luego se sento en el
parapeto preguntandose ansiosamente que ocurriria ahora.

A medianoche desperto a Bombur; y despues se encogio en un rincon, sin
escuchar las gracias del viejo enano (que apenas merecia, penso). Pronto se
quedo dormido, olvidando toda preocupacion hasta la mahana. En realidad se
paso la noche sonando con huevos y panceta.

LAS NUBES ESTALLAN

Al dia siguiente las trompetas sonaron temprano en el campamento. Pronto se vio
a un mensajero que coma por la senda estrecha. Se detuvo a cierta distancia, y
les hizo sehas, preguntando si Thorin escucharia a otra embajada, ya que habia
nuevas noticias y las cosas habian cambiado.

— jEso sera por Dain! — dijo Thorin cuando oyo el mensaje — . Habran oido que ya
viene. Pense que esto les cambiaria el animo. jOrdenales que vengan en numero
reducido y sin armas, y yo escuchare! — grito al mensajero.

Alrededor de mediodia, los estandartes del Bosque y el Lago se adelantaron de
nuevo. Una compahia de veinte se aproximaba. Cuando llegaron al sendero,
dejaron a un lado espadas y lanzas y se acercaron a la Puerta. Admirados, los
enanos vieron que entre ellos estaban tanto Bardo como el Rey Elfo, y delante un
hombre viejo, envuelto en una capa y con un capuchon en la cabeza, portando un
pesado cofre de madera remachado de hierro.

— jSalud, Thorin! — dijo Bardo — . ^Aun no has cambiado de idea?

— No cambian mis ideas con la salida y puesta de unos pocos soles — respondio
Thorin — . ^Has venido a hacerme preguntas ociosas? jAun no se ha retirado el
ejercito elfo, como he ordenado! Hasta entonces, de nada servira que vengas a
negociar conmigo.

— i,No hay nada, entonces, por lo que cederias parte de tu oro?

— Nada que tu y tus amigos podais ofrecerme.



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— «j,Que hay de la Piedra del Area de Thrain? — dijo Bardo, y en ese momento el
hombre viejo abrio el cofre y mostro en alto la joya.

La luz broto de la mano del viejo, brillante y blanca en la mahana.

Thorin se quedo entonces mudo de asombro y confusion. Nadie dijo nada por
largo rato.

Luego Thorin hablo, con una voz ronca de colera. — Esa piedra fue de mi padre y
es mia — dijo — . ^Por que habria de comprar lo que me pertenece? — Sin
embargo, el asombro lo vencio a fin y ahadio: — Pero ^como habeis obtenido la
reliquia de mi casa, si es necesario hacer esa pregunta a unos ladrones?

— No somos ladrones — respondio Bardo — Lo tuyo re lo devolveremos a cambio
de lo nuestro.

— ^Corno la conseguisteis? — grito Thorin cada vez mas furioso.

— jYo se la di! — chillo Bilbo, que espiaba desde el parapeto, ahora con un horrible
pavor.

— jTu! jTu! — grito Thorin volviendose hacia el y aferrandolo con las dos manos —
.jTu, hobbit miserableljTu, pequehajo... saqueador!

— jPor la barba de Durin! Me gustaria que Gandalf estuviese aqui. jMaldito sea
por haberte escogidoljQue la barba se le marchite! En cuanto a ti, jte estrellare
contra las rocas!

— jQuieto! jTu deseo se ha cumplido! — dijo una voz. El hombre viejo del cofre
echo a un lado la capa y el capuchon — . jHe aqui a Gandalf! Y parece que a
tiempo. Si no te gusta mi saqueador, por favor no le hagas daho. Dejalo en el
suelo y escucha primero lo que tiene que decir.

— jPareceis todos confabulados! — dijo Thorin dejando Caer a Bilbo en la cima del
parapeto — Nunca mas tendre tratos con brujos o amigos de brujos. <j,Que tienes
que decir, descendiente de ratas?

— jVaya! jVaya! — dijo Bilbo — . Ya se que todo esto es muy incomodo.
iRecuerdas haber dicho que podria escoger mi propia catorceava parte? Quiza
me lo tome demasiado literalmente; me han dicho que los enanos son mas
corteses en palabras que en hechos. Hubo un tiempo, sin embargo, en el que
parecias creer que yo habia sido de alguna utilidad. jY ahora me llamas
descendiente de ratas! ^Es ese el servicio que tu y tu familia me han prometido,
Thorin? jPiensa que he dispuesto de mi parte como he querido, y olvidalo ya!

— Lo hare — dijo Thorin cehudo — . Te dejare marchar, jy que nunca nos
encontremos otra vez! — Luego se volvio y hablo por encima del parapeto — . Me
han traicionado — dijo — Todos saben que no podria dejar de redimir la Piedra del
Area, el tesoro de mi palacio. Dare por ella una catorceava parte del tesoro en oro
y plata, sin incluir las piedras preciosas; mas eso contara como la parte prometida
a ese traidor, y con esa recompensa partira, y vosotros la podreis dividir como
querais. Tendra bien poco, no lo dudo. Tomadlo, si lo quereis vivo; nada de mi
amistad ira con el.



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— jAhora, baja con tus amigos! — dijo a Bilbo — , jo te arrojare al abismo!

— ^Que hay del oro y la plata? — pregunto Bilbo.

— Te seguira mas tarde, cuando este disponible — dijo Thorin — jBaja!

— jGuardaremos la piedra hasta entonces! — le grito Bardo.

— No estas haciendo un papel muy esplendido como Rey bajo la Montana — dijo
Gandalf — , pero las cosas aun pueden cambiar.

— Cierto que pueden — dijo Thorin. Y ya cavilaba, tan aturdido estaba por el
tesoro, si no podria recobrar la Piedra del Area con la ayuda de Dain, y retener la
parte de la recompensa.

Y asi fue Bilbo expulsado del parapeto, y con nada a cambio de sus apuros,
excepto la armadura que Thorin ya le habia dado. Mas de uno de los enanos sintio
verguenza y lastima cuando vio partir a Bilbo.

— jAdios! — les grito — , jQuiza nos encontremos otra vez como amigos!

— jFuera! — grito Thorin — . Llevas contigo una malla tejida por mi pueblo y es
demasiado buena para ti. No se la puede atravesar con flechas; pero si no te das
prisa, te pinchare esos pies miserables. jDe modo que apresurate!

— No tan rapido — dijo Bardo — Te damos tiempo hasta mahana. Regresaremos a
la hora del mediodia y veremos si has traido la parte del tesoro que hemos de
cambiar por la Piedra. Si en esto no nos engahas, entonces partiremos y el
ejercito elfo retomara al Bosque. Mientras tanto, jadios!

Con eso, volvieron al campamento; pero Thorin envio por Roac correos a Dain,
diciendole lo que habia sucedido e instandole a que viniese con una rapidez
cautelosa.

Paso aquel dia y la noche. A la mahana siguiente, el viento cambio al oeste, y el
aire estaba oscuro y tenebroso. Era aun temprano cuando se oyo un grito en el
campamento. Llegaron mensajeros a informar que una hueste de enanos habia
aparecido en la estribacion oriental de la Montana y que ahora se apresuraba
hacia Valle. Dain habia venido. Habia corrido toda la noche, y de este modo habia
llegado sobre ellos mas pronto de lo que habia esperado. Todos los enanos de la
tropa estaban ataviados con cotas de malla de acero que les llegaban a las
rodillas; y unas calzas de metal fino y flexible, tejido con un procedimiento secreto
que solo la gente de Dain conocia, les cubrian las piernas. Los enanos son
sumamente fuertes para su talla, pero la mayoria de estos eran fuertes aun entre
los enanos, En las batallas empuhaban pesados azadones que se manejaban con
las dos manos; ademas, todos tenian al costado una espada ancha y corta, y un
escudo redondo les colgaba de las espaldas. Llevaban las barbas partidas y
trenzadas, sujetas al cinturon. Las viseras eran de hierro, lo mismo que el calzado;
y las caras eran todas sombrias.

Las trompetas llamaron a hombres y elfos a las armas. Pronto vieron a los enanos,
que subian por el valle a buen paso. Se detuvieron entre el no y la estribacion del
este, pero unos pocos se adelantaron, cruzaron el no y se acercaron al



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campamento; alii depusieron las armas y alzaron las manos en serial de paz.
Bardo salio a encontrarlos y con el Bilbo.

— Nos envia Dain hijo de Nain — dijeron cuando se les pregunto — Corremos junto
a nuestros parientes de la Montana, pues hemos sabido que el reino de antano se
ha renovado. Pero ^quienes sois vosotros que acampais en el llano como
enemigos ante murallas defendidas? — Esto, naturalmente, en el lenguaje de
entonces, cortes y bastante pasado de moda, significaba simplemente: "Aqui no
teneis nada que hacer. Vamos a seguir, o sea marchaos o pelearemos con
vosotros". Se proponian seguir adelante, entre la Montana y el recodo del agua,
pues alii el terreno estrecho no parecia muy protegido.

Por supuesto Bardo se nego a permitir que los enanos fueran directamente a la
Montana. Estaba decidido a esperar a que trajesen fuera la plata y el oro, para ser
cambiados por la Piedra del Area, pues no creia que esto pudiera ocurrir una vez
que aquella numerosa y hosca compahia hubiera llegado a la fortaleza. Habian
traido consigo gran cantidad de suministros, pues los enanos son capaces de
soportar cargas muy pesadas, y casi toda la gente de Dain, a pesar de que habian
marchado a paso vivo, llevaba a hombros unos fardos enormes, que se sumaban
al peso de los azadones y los escudos. Hubieran podido resistir un sitio durante
semanas, y en ese tiempo quiza vinieran mas enanos, pues Thorin tenia muchos
parientes. Quiza fueran capaces tambien de abrir de nuevo alguna otra puerta, y
guardarla, de modo que los sitiadores tendrian que rodear la montaha, y no eran
tantos en verdad.

Estos eran precisamente los planes de los enanos, (pues los cuervos mensajeros
habian estado muy ocupados yendo de Thorin a Dain); pero por el momento el
paso estaba obstruido, asi que luego de unas duras palabras, los enanos
mensajeros se retiraron murmurando, cabizbajos. Bardo habia enviado en seguida
unos mensajeros a la Puerta, pero no habia alii oro ni pago alguno.

Tan pronto como estuvieron a tiro, les cayeron flechas, y se apresuraron a
regresar. Por ese entonces, todo el campamento estaba en pie, como
preparandose para una batalla, pues los enanos de Dain avanzaban por la orilla
del este.

— jTontos! — rio Bardo — . jAcercarse asi bajo el brazo de la Montaha! No
entienden de guerra a campo abierto, aunque sepan guerrear en las minas.
Muchos de nuestros arqueros y lanceros aguardan ahora escondidos entre las
rocas del flanco derecho. Las mallas de los enanos pueden ser buenas, pero se
las pondra a prueba muy pronto. jCaigamos sobre ellos desde los flancos antes de
que descansen!

Pero el Rey Elfo dijo: — Mucho esperare antes de pelear por un botin de oro. Los
enanos no pueden pasar, si no se lo permitimos, o hacer algo que no lleguemos a
advertir. Esperaremos a ver si la reconciliation es posible. Nuestra ventaja en
numero bastara, si al fin hemos de librar un desgraciado combate.

Pero estas estimaciones no tenian en cuenta a los enanos. Saber que la Piedra
del Area estaba en manos de los sitiadores, les inflamaba los corazones;



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sospecharon ademas que Bardo y sus amigos titubeaban, y decidieron atacar
cuanto antes.

De pronto, sin aviso, los enanos se desplegaron en silencio. Los arcos
chasquearon y las flechas silbaron. La batalla iba a comenzar.

jPero todavia mas pronto, una sombra crecio con terrible rapidez! Una nube negra
cubrio el cielo. El trueno invernal rodo en un viento huracanado, rugio y retumbo
en la Montana y relampagueo en la cima. Y por debajo del trueno se pudo ver otra
oscuridad, que se adelantaba en un torbellino, pero esta oscuridad no llego con el
viento; llego desde el Norte, como una inmensa nube de pajaros, tan densa que
no habia luz entre las alas.

— jDeteneos! — grito Gandalf, que aparecio de repente y espero de pie y solo, con
los brazos levantados, entre los enanos que venian y las filas que los
aguardaban — . jDeteneos! — dijo con voz de trueno, y la vara se le encendio con
una luz subita como el rayo — jEl terror ha caido sobre vosotros! jAy! Ha llegado
mas rapido de lo que yo habia supuesto. jLos trasgos estan sobre vosotros! Ahi
Mega Bolgo del Norte, cuyo padre, joh, Dain!, mataste en Moria, hace tiempo.
jMirad! Los murcielagos se ciernen sobre el ejercito como una nube de langostas.
jMontan en lobos, y los wargos vienen detras!

El asombro y la confusion cayo sobre todos ellos. Mientras Gandalf hablaba, la
oscuridad no habia dejado de crecer. Los enanos se detuvieron y contemplaron el
cielo. Los elfos gritaron con muchas voces.

— jVenid! — llamo Gandalf — . Hay tiempo de celebrar consejo. jQue Dain hijo de
Nain se reuna en seguida con nosotros!

Asi empezo una batalla que nadie habia esperado; la llamaron la Batalla de los
Cinco Ejercitos, y fue terrible. De una parte luchaban los trasgos y los lobos
salvajes, y por la otra, los Elfos, los Hombres y los Enanos. Asi fue como ocurrio.
Desde que el Gran Trasgo de las Montahas Nubladas habia caido, los trasgos
odiaban mas que nunca a los enanos. Habian mandado mensajeros de aca para
alia entre las ciudades, colonias y plazas fuertes, pues habian decidido conquistar
el dominio del Norte. Se habian informado en secreto, y prepararon y forjaron
armas en todos los escondrijos de las montahas. Luego se pusieron en marcha, y
se reunieron en valles y colinas, yendo siempre por tuneles o en la oscuridad,
hasta llegar a las cercanias de la gran Montana Gunabad del Norte, donde tenian
la capital. Alii juntaron un inmenso ejercito, preparado para caer en tiempo
tormentoso sobre los ejercitos desprevenidos del Sur. Estaban enterados de la
muerte de Smaug y el jubilo les encendia el animo; y noche tras noche se
apresuraron entre las montahas, y asi llegaron al fin desde el norte casi pisandole
los talones a Dain. Ni siquiera los cuervos supieron que llegaban, hasta que los
vieron aparecer en las tierras abruptas, entre la Montana Solitaria y las colinas.
Cuanto sabia Gandalf, no se puede decir; pero esta claro que no habia esperado
ese asalto repentino.

Este fue el plan que preparo junto con el Rey Elfo y Bardo; y con Dain, pues el
sehor enano ya se les habia unido: los trasgos eran enemigos de todos, y
cualquier otra disputa fue en seguida olvidada. No tenian mas esperanza que la de



167



atraer a los trasgos al valle entre los brazos de la Montana; y ampararse en las
grandes estribaciones del sur y el este. Aun de este modo correrian peligro, si los
trasgos alcanzaban a invadir la Montana, atacandolos entonces desde atras y
arriba; pero no habia tiempo para preparar otros planes o para pedir alguna ayuda.

Pronto paso el trueno, rodando hacia el sureste; pero la nube de murcielagos se
acerco, volando bajo por encima de la Montana, y se agito sobre ellos, tapandoles
la luz y asustandolos.

— jA la Montana! — grito Bardo — , jA la Montana! jTomemos posiciones mientras
todavia hay tiempo!

En la estribacion sur, en la parte mas baja de la falda y entre las rocas, se situaron
los Elfos; en la del este, los Hombres y los Enanos. Pero Bardo y algunos de los
elfos y hombres mas agiles escalaron la cima de la loma occidental para echar un
vistazo al norte. Pronto pudieron ver la tierra a los pies de la montaha, oscurecida
por una apresurada multitud. Luego la vanguardia se arremolino en el extremo de
la estribacion y entro atropelladamente en Valle. Estos eran los jinetes mas
rapidos, que cabalgaban en lobos, y ya los gritos y aullidos hendian el aire a lo
lejos. Unos pocos valientes se les enfrentaron, con un amago de resistencia, y
muchos cayeron alii antes que el resto se retirara y huyese a los lados. Como
Gandalf esperara, el ejercito trasgo se habia reunido detras de la vanguardia, a la
que se habian resistido, y luego cayo furioso sobre el valle, extendiendose aqui y
alia entre los brazos de la Montaha, buscando al enemigo. Innumerables eran los
estandartes, negros y rojos, y llegaban como una marea furiosa y en desorden.

Fue una batalla terrible. Bilbo no habia pasado nunca por una experiencia tan
espantosa, y que luego odiara tanto, y esto es como decir que por ninguna otra
cosa se sintio tan orgulloso, hasta tal punto que fue para el durante mucho tiempo
un tema de charla favorito, aunque no tuvo en ella un papel muy importante. En
verdad puedo decir que muy pronto se puso el anillo y desaparecio de la vista,
aunque no de todo peligro. Un anillo magico de esta clase no es una protection
completa en una carga de trasgos, ni detiene las flechas voladoras ni las lanzas
salvajes; pero ayuda a apartarse del camino, e impide que escojan tu cabeza entre
Otras para que un trasgo espadachin te la rebane de un tajo.

Los elfos fueron los primeros en cargar. Tenian por los trasgos un odio amargo y
frio. Las lanzas y espadas brillaban en la oscuridad con un helado reflejo, tan
mortal era la rabia de las manos que las esgrimian. Tan pronto como la horda de
los enemigos aumento en el valle, les lanzaron una lluvia de flechas, y todas
resplandecian como azuzadas por el fuego. Detras de las flechas, un miliar de
lanceros bajo de un salto y embistio. Los chillidos eran ensordecedores. Las rocas
se tiheron de negro con la sangre de los trasgos.

Y cuando los trasgos se recobraron de la furiosa embestida, y detuvieron la carga
de los elfos, todo el valle estallo en un rugido profundo. Con gritos de — jMoria! —
y — jDain, Dain! — , los enanos de las Colinas de Hierro se precipitaron sobre el
otro flanco, empuhando los azadones, y junto con ellos llegaron los hombres del
Lago armados con largas espadas.



168



El panico domino a los trasgos; y cuando se dieron vuelta para enfrentar este
ataque, los elfos cargaron otra vez con brios renovados. Ya muchos de los trasgos
huian no abajo para escapar de la trampa; y muchos de los lobos se volvian
contra ellos mismos, y destrozaban a muertos y heridos. La victoria parecia
inmediata cuando un griterio sono en las alturas.

Unos trasgos habian escalado la Montana por la otra parte, y muchos ya estaban
sobre la Puerta, en la ladera, y otros corrian temerariamente hacia abajo, sin hacer
caso de los que caian chillando al precipicio, para atacar las estribaciones desde
encima. A cada una de estas estribaciones se podia llegar por caminos que
descendian de la masa central de la Montana; los defensores eran pocos y no
podrian cerrarles el paso durante mucho tiempo. La esperanza de victoria se
habia desvanecido. Solo habian logrado contener la primera embestida de la
marea negra.

El dia avanzo. Otra vez los trasgos se reunieron en el valle. Luego vino una horda
de wargos, brillantes y negros como cuervos, y con ellos la guardia personal de
Bolgo, trasgos de enorme talla, con cimitarras de acero. Pronto llegaria la
verdadera oscuridad, en un cielo tormentoso; mientras, los murcielagos
revoloteaban aun alrededor de las cabezas y los oidos de hombres y elfos, o se
precipitaban como vampiros sobre las gentes cafdas. Bardo luchaba aun
defendiendo la estribacion del este, y sin embargo retrocedia poco a poco; los
sehores elfos estaban en la nave del brazo sur, alrededor del rey, cerca del puesto
de observation de la Colina del Cuervo.

De subito se oyo un clamor, y desde la Puerta llamo una trompeta.

i Habian olvidado a Thorin! Parte del muro, movido por palancas, se desplomo
hacia afuera cayendo con estrepito en la laguna. El Rey bajo la Montana aparecio
en el umbral, y sus compaheros lo siguieron. Las capas y capuchones habian
desaparecido; llevaban brillantes armaduras y una luz roja les brillaba en los ojos.
El gran enano centelleaba en la oscuridad como oro en un fuego mortecino.



Los trasgos arrojaron rocas desde lo alto; pero los enanos siguieron adelante,
saltaron hasta el pie de la cascada y corrieron a la batalla. Lobos y jinetes caian o
huian ante ellos. Thorin manejaba el hacha con mandobles poderosos, y nada
parecia lastimarlo.



— jA mi! jA mi! jElfos y hombres! jA mi! jOh, pueblo mio! — gritaba, y la voz
resonaba como una trompa en el valle.



Hacia abajo, en desorden, los enanos de Dain corrieron a ayudarlo. Hacia abajo
fueron tambien muchos de los hombres del Lago, pues Bardo no pudo
contenerlos; y desde la ladera opuesta, muchos de los lanceros elfos. Una vez
mas los trasgos fueron rechazados al valle, y alii se amontonaron hasta que Valle
fue un sitio horrible y oscurecido por cadaveres. Los wargos se dispersaron y



169



Thorin se volvio a la derecha contra la guardia personal de Bolgo. Pero no alcanzo
a atravesar las primeras filas.



Ya tras el yacian muchos hombres y muchos enanos, y muchos hermosos elfos
que aun tendrian que haber vivido largos anos, felices en el bosque. Y a medida
que el valle se abria, la marcha de Thorin era cada vez mas lenta. Los enanos
eran pocos, y nadie guardaba los flancos. Pronto los atacantes fueron atacados y
se vieron encerrados en un gran circulo, cercados todo alrededor por trasgos y
lobos que volvian a la carga. La guardia personal de Bolgo cayo aullando sobre
ellos, introduciendose entre los enanos como olas que golpean acantilados de
arena. Los otros enanos no podian ayudarlos, pues el asalto desde la Montana se
renovaba con redoblada fuerza, y hombres y elfos eran batidos lentamente a
ambos lados.



A todo esto, Bilbo miraba con afliccion. Se habia instalado en la Colina del Cuervo,
entre los elfos, en parte porque quiza alii era posible escapar, y en parte (el lado
Tuk de la mente de Bilbo) porque si iban a mantener una ultima position
desesperada, queria defender al Rey Elfo. Tambien Gandalf estaba alii de algun
modo, sentado en el suelo, como meditando, preparando quiza un ultimo soplo de
magia antes del fin.



Este no parecia muy lejano. "No tardara mucho ya", pensaba Bilbo. "Antes que los
trasgos ganen la Puerta y todos nosotros caigamos muertos o nos obliguen a
descender y nos capturen. Realmente, es como para echarse a llorar, despues de
todo lo que nos ha pasado. Casi habria preferido que el viejo Smaug se hubiese
quedado con el maldito tesoro, antes de que lo consigan esas viles criaturas, y el
pobrecito Bombur y Balin y Fili y Kili y el resto tengan mal fin; y tambien Bardo, y
los hombres del Lago y los alegres elfos. jAy misero de mi! He oido canciones
sobre muchas batallas, y siempre he entendido que la derrota puede ser gloriosa.
Parece muy incomoda, por no decir desdichada. Me gustaria de veras estar fuera
de todo esto.



Con el viento, se esparcieron las nubes, y una roja puesta de sol rasgo el oeste.
Advirtiendo el brillo repentino en las tinieblas, Bilbo miro alrededor y chillo. Habia
visto algo que le sobresalto el corazon, unas sombras oscuras, pequehas aunque
majestuosas, en el resplandor distante.



— jLas Aguilas! jLas Aguilas! — vocifero — , jVienen las Aguilas!



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Los ojos de Bilbo rara vez se equivocaban. Las Aguilas venian con el viento, hilera
tras hilera, en una hueste tan numerosa que todos los aguileros del norte parecian
haberse reunido alii,



— jLas Aguilas! jLas Aguilas! — gritaba Bilbo, saltando y moviendo los brazos. Si
los elfos no podian verlo, al menos podian ofrlo. Pronto ellos gritaron tambien, y
los ecos corrieron por el valle. Muchos ojos expectantes miraron arriba, aunque
aun nada se podia ver, excepto desde las estribaciones meridionales de la
Montana.



— jLas Aguilas! — grito Bilbo otra vez, pero en ese momento una piedra cayo y le
golpeo con fuerza el yelmo, y el hobbit se desplomo y no vio nada mas.



EL VIAJE DE VUELTA



Cuando Bilbo se recobro, se recobro literalmente solo. Estaba tendido en las
piedras planas de la Colina del Cuervo, y no habia nadie cerca. Un dia despejado,
pero frio, se extendia alia arriba. Bilbo temblaba y se sentia tan helado como una
piedra, pero en la cabeza le ardia un fuego.



"Me pregunto que ha pasado" se dijo. "De todos modos no soy todavia uno de los
heroes caidos; jpero supongo que todavia hay tiempo para eso!"



Se sento, agarrotado. Mirando hacia el valle no alcanzo a ver ningun trasgo vivo.
Al cabo de un rato la cabeza se le aclaro un poco, y creyo distinguir a unos elfos
que se movfan en las rocas de abajo. Se restrego los ojos. ^Acaso habia aun un
campamento en la llanura, a cierta distancia, y un movimiento de idas y venidas
alrededor de la Puerta? Los enanos parecian estar atareados removiendo el muro.
Pero todo estaba como muerto. No se oian llamadas ni ecos de canciones. De
algun modo, habia una tristeza en el aire.



— jVictoria despues de todo, supongo! — dijo sintiendo el dolor de cabeza — . Bien,
la situation parece bastante sombria.



De subito, descubrio a un hombre que trepaba y venia hacia el.
— jHola ahi! — llamo con voz vacilante — jHola ahi! «j,Que ocurre?



171



— «j,Que voz es la que habla entre las rocas? — dijo el hombre, deteniendose y
atisbando alrededor, no lejos de donde Bilbo estaba sentado.



jEntonces Bilbo recordo el anillo! — jQue me aspen! — dijo — . Esta invisibilidad
tiene tambien sus inconvenientes. De Otro modo hubiera podido pasar una noche
abrigada y comoda, en cama.



— jSoy yo, Bilbo Bolson, el companero de Thorin! — grito, quitandose de prisa el
anillo.



— jEs una suerte que te haya encontrado! — dijo el hombre adelantandose — Te
necesitan, y estamos buscandote desde hace tiempo. Te hubieran contado entre
los muertos, que son muchos, si Gandalf el mago no hubiese dicho que no hace
mucho habian oido tu voz por estos sitios. Me han enviado a mirar aqui por ultima
vez. <j,Estas muy herido?



— Un golpe feo en la cabeza, creo — dijo Bilbo — . Pero tengo un yelmo, y una
cabeza dura. Asi y todo me siento enfermo y las piernas se me doblan como paja.



— Te llevare abajo, al campamento del valle — dijo el hombre, y lo alzo con
facilidad.



El hombre era rapido y de paso seguro. No paso mucho tiempo antes de que
depositara a Bilbo ante una tienda en Valle; y alii estaba Gandalf, con un brazo en
cabestrillo. Ni siquiera el mago habia escapado indemne; y habia pocos en toda la
hueste que no tuvieran alguna herida.



Cuando Gandalf vio a Bilbo se alegro de veras.



— jBolson! — exclamo — . jBueno! jNunca lo hubiera dicho! jVivo, despues de todo!
jEstoy contento! jEmpezaba a preguntarme si esa suerte que tienes te ayudaria a
salir del paso! Fue algo terrible, y casi desastroso. Pero las otras nuevas pueden
aguardar. jVen! — dijo mas gravemente — Alguien te reclama. — Y guiando al
hobbit, lo llevo dentro de la tienda.



— jSalud Thorin! — dijo Gandalf mientras entraba — . Lo he traido.



172



Alii efectivamente yacia Thorin Escudo de Roble, herido de muchas heridas, y la
armadura abollada y el hacha mellada estaban junto a el en el suelo. Alzo los ojos
cuando Bilbo se le acerco.



— Adios, buen ladron — dijo — Parto ahora hacia los salones de espera a sentarme
al lado de mis padres, hasta que el mundo sea renovado. Ya que hoy dejo todo el
oro y la plata, y voy a donde tienen poco valor, deseo partir en amistad contigo, y
me retracto de mis palabras y hechos ante la Puerta.



Bilbo hinco una rodilla, ahogado por la pena. — jAdios, Rey bajo la Montana! —
dijo — . Es esta una amarga aventura, si ha de terminar asi; y ni una montaha de
oro podria enmendarla. Con todo, me alegro de haber compartido tus peligros:
esto ha sido mas de lo que cualquier Bolson hubiera podido merecer.



— jNo! — dijo Thorin — . Hay en ti muchas virtudes que tu mismo ignoras, hijo del
bondadoso Oeste. Algo de coraje y algo de sabiduria, mezclados con mesura. Si
muchos de nosotros dieran mas valor a la comida, la alegria y las canciones que
al oro atesorado, este seria un mundo mas feliz. Pero triste o alegre, ahora he de
abandonarlo. iAdios!



Entonces Bilbo se volvio, y se fue solo; y se sento fuera arropado con una manta,
y aunque quiza no lo creais, lloro hasta que se le enrojecieron los ojos y se te
enronquecio la voz. Era un alma bondadosa, y paso largo tiempo antes de que
tuviese ganas de volver a bromear. "Ha sido un acto de misericordia" se dijo al fin,
"que haya despertado cuando lo hice. Desearia que Thorin estuviese vivo, pero
me alegro de que partiese en paz. Eres un tonto, Bilbo Bolson, y lo trastornaste
todo con ese asunto de la piedra; y al fin hubo una batalla a pesar de que tanto te
esforzaste en conseguir paz y tranquilidad, aunque supongo que nadie podra
acusarte por eso."



Todo lo que sucedio despues de que lo dejasen sin sentido, Bilbo lo supo mas
tarde; pero sintio entonces mas pena que alegria, y ya estaba cansado de la
aventura. El deseo de viajar de vuelta al hogar lo consumia. Eso, sin embargo, se
retraso un poco, de modo que entretanto os relatare algo de lo que ocurrio. Las
tropas de trasgos habian despertado hacia tiempo la sospecha de las Aguilas, a
cuya atencion no podia escapar nada que se moviera en las cimas. De modo que
ellas tambien se reunieron en gran numero alrededor del Aguila de las Montahas
Nubladas; y al fin, olfateando el combate, habian venido de prisa, bajando con la
tormenta en el momento critico. Fueron ellas quienes desalojaron de las laderas
de la montaha a los trasgos que chillaban desconcertados, arrojandolos a los
precipicios, o empujandolos hacia los enemigos de abajo. No paso mucho tiempo



173



antes de que hubiesen liberado la Montana Solitaria, y los elfos y hombres de
ambos lados del valle pudieron por fin bajar a ayudar en el combate.



Pero aun incluyendo a las Aguilas, los trasgos los superaban en numero. En
aquella ultima hora el propio Beorn habia aparecido; nadie sabia como o de
donde. Llego solo, en forma de oso; y con la colera parecia ahora mas grande de
talla, casi un gigante.



El rugir de la voz de Beorn era como tambores y canones; y se abria paso
echando a los lados lobos y trasgos como si fueran pajas y plumas. Cayo sobre la
retaguardia, y como un trueno irrumpio en el circulo. Los enanos se mantenian
firmes en una colina baja y redonda. Entonces Beorn se agacho y recogio a
Thorin, que habia caido atravesado por las lanzas, y lo llevo fuera del combate.



Retorno en seguida, con una colera redoblada, de modo que nada podia
contenerlo y ningun arma parecia hacerle mella. Disperso la guardia, arrojo al
propio Bolgo al suelo, y lo aplasto. Entonces el desaliento cundio entre los trasgos,
que se dispersaron en todas direcciones. Pero esta nueva esperanza alento a los
otros, que los persiguieron de cerca, y evitaron que la mayoria buscara como
escapar. Empujaron a muchos hacia el Rio Rapido, y asi huyesen al sur o al
oeste, fueron acosados en los pantanos proximos al Rio del Bosque; y alii perecio
la mayor parte de los ultimos fugitivos, y quienes se acercaron a los dominios de
los Elfos del Bosque fueron ultimados, o atraidos para que murieran en la
oscuridad impenetrable del Bosque Negro. Las canciones relatan que en aquel dia
perecieron tres cuartas partes de los trasgos guerreros del Norte, y las montanas
tuvieron paz durante muchos ahos.



La victoria era segura ya antes de la caida de la noche, pero la persecution
continuaba aun cuando Bilbo regreso al campamento; y en el valle no quedaban
muchos, excepto los heridos mas graves.



— ^Donde estan las Aguilas? — pregunto Bilbo a Gandalf aquel anochecer,
mientras yacia abrigado con muchas mantas.



— Algunas estan de caceria — dijo el mago — , pero la mayoria ha partido de vuelta
a los aguileros. No quisieron quedarse aqui, y se fueron con las primeras luces del
alba. Dain ha coronado al jefe con oro, y le ha jurado amistad para siempre.



— Lo lamento. Quiero decir, me hubiera gustado verlas otra vez — dijo Bilbo
adormilado — , quiza las vea en el camino a casa. ^Supongo que ire pronto?



174



— Tan pronto como quieras — dijo el mago. En verdad pasaron algunos dias antes
de que Bilbo partiera realmente. Enterraron a Thorin muy hondo bajo la Montana,
y Bardo le puso la Piedra del Area sobre el pecho.



— jQue yazga aqui hasta que la Montana se desmorone!

— dijo — jQue traiga fortuna a todos los enanos que en adelante vivan aqui!

Sobre la tumba de Thorin, el Rey Elfo puso luego a Orcrist, la espada elfica que le
habian arrebatado al enano cuando lo apresaron. Se dice en las canciones que
brilla en la oscuridad, cada vez que se aproxima un enemigo, y la fortaleza de los
enanos no puede ser tomada por sorpresa. Alii Dain hijo de Nain vivio desde
entonces y se convirtio en Rey bajo la Montana; y con el tiempo muchos otros
enanos vinieron a reunirse alrededor del trono, en los antiguos salones. De los
doce compaheros de Thorin, quedaban diez. Fili y Kili habian caido defendiendolo
con el cuerpo y los escudos, pues era el hermano mayor de la madre de ellos, Los
otros permanecieron con Dain, que administro el tesoro con justicia.



No hubo, desde luego, ninguna discusion sobre la division del tesoro en tantas
partes como habia sido planeado, para Balin y Dwalin, y Dori y Nori y Oh, y 6in y
Gloin, y Bifur y Bofur y Bombur, o para Bilbo. Con todo, una catorceava parte de
toda la plata y oro, labrada y sin labrar, se entrego a Bardo pues Dain comento: —
Haremos honor al acuerdo del muerto, y el custodia ahora la Piedra del Area.



Aun una catorceava parte era una riqueza excesiva, mas grande que la de
muchos reyes mortales. De aquel tesoro. Bardo envio gran cantidad de oro al
gobernador de la Ciudad del Lago; y recompenso con largueza a seguidores y
amigos. Al Rey de los Elfos le dio las esmeraldas de Girion, las joyas que el mas
amaba, y que Dain le habia devuelto.



A Bilbo le dijo: — Este tesoro es tanto tuyo como mio, aunque antiguos acuerdos
no puedan mantenerse, ya que tantos intervinieron en ganarlo y defenderlo. Pero
aun cuando dijiste que renunciarias a toda pretension, desearia que las palabras
de Thorin, de las cuales se arrepintio, no resultasen ciertas: que te dariamos poco.
Te recompensare mas que a nadie.



— Muy bondadoso de tu parte — dijo Bilbo — . Pero realmente es un alivio para mi.
Como demonios podria llevar ese tesoro a casa sin que hubiera peleas y crimenes



175



todo a lo largo del camino, no lo se. Y no se que nana con ese tesoro una vez en
casa. En tus manos estara mejor.



Por ultimo accedio a tomar solo dos pequenos cofres, uno lleno de plata y el otro
lleno de oro, que un poney fuerte podria cargar. — Un poco mas y no sabria que
hacer con el — dijo.



Por fin llego el momento de despedirse. — jAdios Balin! — exclamo — . jY adios,
Dwalin; y adios Dori, Nori, Ori, 6in, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, y Bombur! jQue vuestras
barbas nunca crezcan ralas! — Y volviendose hacia la Montana anadio: — jAdios,
Thorin Escudo de Roble! jY Fili y Kili! jQue nunca se pierda vuestra memorial



Entonces los enanos se inclinaron profundamente ante la Puerta, pero las
palabras se les trabaron en las gargantas. — jAdios y buena suerte, dondequiera
que vayas! — dijo Balin al fin — . Si alguna vez vuelves a visitarnos, cuando
nuestros salones esten de nuevo embellecidos, entonces jel festin sera realmente
esplendido!



— jSi alguna vez pasais por mi camino — dijo Bilbo — , no dudeis en llamar! El te es
a la cuatro; jpero cualquiera de vosotros sera bienvenido, a cualquier hora!



Luego dio media vuelta y se alejo.



La hueste elfica estaba en marcha; y aunque tristemente disminuida, todavia
muchos iban alegres, pues ahora el mundo septentrional seria mas feliz durante
largos anos. El dragon estaba muerto y los trasgos derrotados, y los corazones
elficos miraban adelante, mas alia del invierno hacia una primavera de alegrfa.



Gandalf y Bilbo cabalgaban detras del rey, y junto a ellos marchaba Beorn a
grandes pasos, una vez mas en forma humana, y reia y cantaba con una voz recia
por el camino. Asi fueron hasta aproximarse a los lindes del Bosque Negro, al
norte del lugar donde nacia el Rio del Bosque. Hicieron alto entonces, pues el
mago y Bilbo no penetrarian en el bosque, aun cuando el rey les ofrecio que se
quedaran un tiempo. Se proponian marchar a lo largo del borde de la floresta, y
circundar el extremo norte, internandose en el yermo que se extendia entre el y las
Montahas Grises. Era un largo y triste camino, pero ahora que los trasgos habian
sido aplastados, les parecia mas seguro que los espantosos senderos bajo los
arboles. Ademas Beorn iria con ellos.



176



— jAdios, oh Rey Elfo! — dijo Gandalf — jQue el bosque verde sea feliz mientras el
mundo es todavia joven! jY que sea feliz todo tu pueblo!



— jAdios, oh Gandalf! — dijo el rey — . jQue siempre aparezcas donde mas te
necesiten y menos te esperen! jCuantas mas veces vengas a mis salones, tanto
mas me sentire complacido!



— jTe ruego — dijo Bilbo tartamudeando, vacilante — que aceptes este presente!
y saco un collar de plata y perlas que Dain le habia dado al partir.



— ^Corno me he ganado este presente, oh hobbit? — dijo el rey.



— Bueno... este... pense — dijo Bilbo bastante confuso — , que... algo tendria que
dar por tu... este... hospitalidad. Quiero decir que tambien un saqueador tiene
sentimientos. He bebido mucho de tu vino y he comido mucho de tu pan —



— jAceptare tu presente, oh Bilbo el Magnifico! — dijo el rey gravemente — . Y te
nombro amigo del elfo y bienaventurado. jQue tu sombra nunca disminuya (o
robarte seria demasiado facil)! jAdios!



Luego los elfos se volvieron hacia el Bosque, y Bilbo emprendio la larga marcha
hacia el hogar.



Paso muchos infortunios y aventuras antes de estar de vuelta. El Yermo era
todavia el Yermo, y habia alii Otras cosas en aquellos dias, ademas de trasgos;
pero iba bien guiado y custodiado — el mago estaba con el, y Beorn lo acompaho
una buena parte del camino — y nunca volvio a encontrarse en un apuro grave.
Con todo, hacia la mitad del invierno, Gandalf y Bilbo habian dejado atras los
lindes del Bosque, y volvieron a las puertas de la casa de Beorn; y alii se
quedaron una temporada. El invierno paso con dias agradables y alegres; y
hombres de todas partes vinieron a festejarlo invitados por Beorn. Los trasgos de
las Montahas Nubladas eran pocos, y se escondian aterrorizados en los agujeros
mas profundos que podian encontrar; y los wargos habian desaparecido de los
bosques, de modo que los hombres iban de un lado a otro sin temor. Beorn llego a
convertirse en el jefe de aquellas regiones y goberno una extensa tierra entre el
bosque y las montahas, y se dice que durante muchas generaciones los varones
que el engendraba podian transformarse en osos, y algunos se mostraron
inflexibles y perversos, pero la mayor parte fue como Beorn, aunque de menos
tamaho y fuerza. En esos dias, los ultimos trasgos fueron expulsados de las
Montahas Nubladas y hubo una nueva paz en los limites del Yermo.



177



Era primavera, y una hermosa primavera con aires tempranos y un sol brillante,
cuando Bilbo y Gandalf se despidieron al fin de Beorn; y aunque anhelaba volver
al hogar, Bilbo partio con pena, pues las flores de los jardines de Beorn eran en
primavera no menos maravillosas que en pleno verano.



Al fin ascendieron por el largo camino y alcanzaron el paso donde los trasgos los
habian capturado antes. Pero llegaron a aquel sitio elevado por la mahana, y
mirando hacia atras vieron un sol bianco que brillaba sobre la vastedad de la
tierra. Alia atras se extendia el Bosque Negro, azul en la distancia, y oscuramente
verde en el limite mas cercano, aun en los dias primaverales. Alia, bien lejos, se
alzaba la Montana Solitaria, apenas visible. En el pico mas alto todavia brillaba
palida la nieve.



— jAsi Mega la nieve tras el fuego, y aun los dragones tienen su final! — dijo Bilbo, y
volvio la espalda a su aventura. El lado Tuk estaba sintiendose muy cansado, y el
lado Bolson se fortalecia dia a dia — . jAhora solo me falta estar sentado en mi
propio sillon! — dijo



LA ULTIMA JORNADA

Era el primer dia de mayo cuando los dos regresaron por fin al borde del valle de
Rivendel, donde se alzaba la Ultima (o la Primera) Morada. De nuevo caia la
tarde, los poneys se estaban cansando, en especial el que transportaba los bultos,
y todos necesitaban algun reposo. Mientras descendian el empinado sendero,
Bilbo Oyo a los elfos que cantaban todavia entre los arboles, como si no hubieran
callado desde que el estuviera alii hacia tiempo, y tan pronto como los jinetes
bajaron a los claros, inferiores del bosque, las voces entonaron una cancion muy
parecida a la de aquel entonces. Era algo asi:



i EEI dragon se ha marchitado,
le han destrozado los huesos,
y le han roto la armadura,
y el brillo le han humillado!
Aunque la espada se oxide,
y la corona perezca,
con una fuerza inflexible
y bienes atesorados,
aun crecen aqui las hierbas,

178



y aun, el follaje se mece,
el agua blanca se mueve,
y cantan las voces elficas.
jVenid! jTra — la — la — lalle!
jVenid de vuelta al valle!

Las estrellas brillan mas
que las gemas incontables,
y la luna es aun mas clara,
que los tesoros de plata,
el fuego es mas reluciente
en el hogar a la noche,
que el oro hundido en las minas.
^Por que ir de un lado a otro?
iOh! jTra— la— la— lalle!
jVenid de vuelta al valle!

<j,Adonde marchais ahora
regresando ya tan tarde?
jLas aguas del no fluyen,
y arden todas las estrellas!
<j,Adonde marchais cargados,
tan tristes y temerosos?
Los elfos y sus doncellas
saludan a los cansados
con un tra — la — la — lalle,
venid de vuelta al valle.

Tra — la — la. — lalle!

Fa— la— la— lalle!

Fa— la!



Luego los elfos del valle salieron y les dieron la bienvenida, conduciendolos a
traves del agua hasta la casa de Elrond. Alii los recibieron con afecto, y esa misma



179



tarde hubo muchos oidos ansiosos que querian escuchar el relato de la aventura.
Gandalf fue quien hablo, ya que Bilbo se sentia fatigado y somnoliento. Bilbo
conocia la mayor parte del relato, pues habia participado en el, y ademas le habia
contado muchas cosas al mago en el camino, o en la casa de Beorn; pero algunas
veces abria un ojo y escuchaba, cuando Gandalf contaba una parte de la historia,
de la que el aun no estaba enterado.

Fue asi como supo donde habia estado Gandalf; pues alcanzo a oir las palabras
del mago a Elrond. Parecia que Gandalf habia asistido a un gran concilio de los
magos blancos, sehores del saber tradicional y la magia buena; y que habian
expulsado al fin al Nigromante de su oscuro dominio al sur del Bosque Negro.

— Dentro de no mucho tiempo — decia Gandalf — , el Bosque medrara de algun
modo. El Norte estara a salvo de ese horror por muchos ahos, espero, jAun asi,
desearia que ya no estuviese en este mundo!

— Sena bueno, en verdad — dijo Elrond — , pero temo que eso no ocurrira en esta
epoca del mundo, ni en muchas que vendran despues.

Cuando el relato de los viajes concluyo, hubo otros cuentos, y todavia mas,
cuentos de antaho, de hogaho y de ningun tiempo, hasta que Bilbo cabeceo y
ronco comodamente en un rincon.

Desperto en un lecho bianco, y la luna entraba por una ventana abierta. Debajo
muchos elfos cantaban en voz alta y clara a orillas del arroyo.

jCantad regocijados, cantad ahora juntos!
El viento esta en las copas, y ronda en el brezal,
los capullos de estrellas y la luna florecen,
las ventanas nocturnas refulgen en la torre.

jBailad regocijados, bailad ahora juntos!
jQue la hierba sea blanda, y los pies como plumas!
El no es plateado, y las sombras se borran,
feliz el mes de maye, y feliz nuestro encuentro.

jCantemos dulcemente envolviendolo en suehos!
jDejemos que repose y vamonos afuera!
El vagabundo duerme; que la almohada sea blanda.
jArrullos! jMas arrullos! jDe alisos y de sauces!

jPino, tu no suspires, hasta el viento del alba!



180



jLuna, escondete! Que haya sombra en la tierra.
Silencio! jSilencio! jRoble, Fresno y Espino!
jQue el agua calle hasta que apunte la manana!

— jBien, Pueblo Festivo! — dijo Bilbo asomandose — «j,Que hora es segun la luna?
iVuestra nana podria despertar a un trasgo borracho! No obstante, os doy las
gracias.

— Y tus ronquidos podrian despertar a un dragon de piedra. No obstante, te damos
las gracias — contestaron los elfos con una risa — Esta apuntando el alba, y has
dormido desde el principio de la noche. Mariana, tal vez, habras remediado tu
cansancio.

— Un sueho breve es un gran remedio en la casa de Elrond — dijo Bilbo — , pero
tratare de que el remedio no me falte. jBuenas noches por segunda vez, hermosos
amigos! — Y con estas palabras volvio al lecho y durmio hasta bien entrada la
manana.

Pronto perdio toda huella de cansancio en aquella casa, y no tardo en bromear y
bailar, tarde y temprano, con los elfos del valle. Sin embargo, aun este sitio no
podia demorarlo por mucho tiempo mas, y pensaba siempre en su propia casa. Al
cabo pues de una semana, le dijo adios a Elrond, y dandole unos pequehos
regalos que el elfo no podia dejar de aceptar, se alejo cabalgando con Gandalf.

Dejaban el valle, cuando el cielo se oscurecio al oeste y soplo el viento y empezo
a Hover.

— jAlegres dias de mayo! — dijo Bilbo cuando la lluvia le golpeo la cara — , Pero
hemos vuelto la espalda a muchas leyendas y estamos llegando a casa. Supongo
que esto es el primer sabor del hogar.

— Hay un largo camino — dijo Gandalf.

— Pero es el ultimo camino — dijo Bilbo.

Llegaron al no que sehalaba el limite del Yermo, y al vado bajo la orilla escarpada
que quiza recorders. El agua habia crecido con el deshielo de las nieves (pues el
verano estaba proximo) y con el largo dia de lluvia; pero al fin lo cruzaron luego de
algunas dificultades y continuaron marchando mientras caia la tarde; era la ultima
Jornada.

Esta fue parecida a la primera, pero ahora la compahia era mas reducida, y mas
silenciosa; ademas esta vez no hubo trolls. En cada punto del camino Bilbo
rememoraba los hechos y palabras de hacia un aho — a el le parecian mas de
diez — y por supuesto, reconocio en seguida el lugar donde el poney habia caido
al no, y donde habian dejado atras aquella desagradable aventura con Tom, Berto
y Guille.

No lejos del camino encontraron el oro enterrado de los trolls, aun oculto e intacto.
— Tengo bastante para toda la vida — dijo Bilbo cuando lo desenterraron — . Sena
mejor que lo tomases tu, Gandalf. Quiza puedas encontrarle alguna utilidad.



181



— jDesde luego que puedo! — dijo el mago — jPero dividamoslo en partes iguales!
Puedes encontrarte con necesidades inesperadas.

De modo que pusieron el oro en costales y lo cargaron en los poneys, quienes no
se mostraron muy complacidos. Desde entonces la marcha fue mas lenta, pues la
mayor parte del tiempo avanzaron a pie. Pero la tierra era verde y habia mucha
hierba por la que el hobbit paseaba contento. Se enjugaba el rostro con un
panuelo de seda roja — jno!, no habia conservado uno solo de los suyos, y este se
lo habia prestado Elrond — , pues ahora junio habia traido el verano, y el tiempo
era otra vez calido y luminoso.

Como todas las cosas llegan a termino, aun esta historia, un dia divisaron al fin el
pais donde Bilbo habia nacido y crecido, donde conocia las formas de la tierra y
los arboles tanto como sus propias manos y pies. Alcanzo a otear la Colina a lo
lejos, y de repente se detuvo y dijo:

Los caminos siguen avanzando,

sobre rocas y bajo arboles,

por curvas donde el sol no brilla,

por arroyos que el mar no encuentran,

sobre las nieves que el invierno siembra,

y entre las flores alegres de junio,

sobre la hierba y sobre la piedra,

bajo los montes a la luz de la luna.

Los caminos siguen avanzando

bajo las nubes, y las estrellas,

pero los pies que han echado a andar

regresan por fin al hogar lejano.

Los ojos que fuegos y espadas han visto,

y horrores en salones de piedra,

miran al fin las praderas verdes,

colinas y arboles conocidos.



Gandalf lo miro. — jMi querido Bilbo! — dijo — . jAlgo te ocurre! No eres el hobbit
que eras antes.

Y asi cruzaron el puente y pasaron el molino junto al no, y llegaron a la mismisima
puerta de Bilbo.

— jBendita sea! <j,Que pasa? — grito el hobbit. Habia una gran conmocion, y gente
de toda clase, respetable, y no respetable, se apihaba en la puerta, y muchos



182



entraban y salfan, y ni siquiera se limpiaban los pies en el felpudo, como Bilbo
observo disgustado.

Si el estaba sorprendido, ellos lo estuvieron mas. j Habia llegado de vuelta en
medio de una subasta! Habia una gran nota en bianco y rojo en la verja,
manifestando que el veintidos de junio los senores Gorgo, Gorgo y Borgo sacarian
a subasta los efectos del finado senor don Bilbo Bolson, de Bolson Cerrado,
Hobbiton. La venta comenzaria a las diez en punto. Era casi la hora del almuerzo,
y muchas de las cosas ya habian sido vendidas, a distintos precios, desde casi
nada hasta viejas canciones (como no es raro en las subastas). Los primos de
Bilbo, los Sacovilla Bolson, estaban muy atareados midiendo las habitaciones para
ver si podrian meter alii sus propios muebles. En smtesis: Bilbo habia sido
declarado "presuntamente muerto", y no todos lamentaron que la presuncion fuera
falsa.

La vuelta del senor Bilbo Bolson creo todo un disturbio, tanto bajo la Colina como
sobre la Colina, y al otro lado de Delagua; el asombro duro mucho mas de nueve
dias. El problema se prolongo en verdad durante anos. Paso mucho tiempo antes
de que el senor Bolson fuese admitido otra vez en el mundo de los vivos. La gente
que habia conseguido unas buenas gangas en la subasta, fue dura de convencer;
y al final, para ahorrar tiempo, Bilbo tuvo que comprar de nuevo muchos de sus
propios muebles. Algunas cucharas de plata desaparecieron de modo misterioso,
y nunca se supo de ellas, aunque Bilbo sospechaba de los Sacovilla Bolson. Por
su parte ellos nunca admitieron que el Bolson que estaba de vuelta fuera el
genuino, y las relaciones con Bilbo se estropearon para siempre. En realidad,
habian pensado mucho tiempo en mudarse a aquel agradable agujero — hobbit.

Sin embargo, Bilbo habia perdido mas que cucharas; habia perdido su reputacion.
Es cierto que tuvo desde entonces la amistad de los elfos y el respeto de los
enanos, magos y todas esas gentes que alguna vez pasaban por aquel camino.
Pero ya nunca fue del todo respetable. En realidad todos los hobbits proximos lo
consideraron "raro", excepto los sobrinos y sobrinas de la rama Tuk; aunque los
padres de estos jovenes no los animaban a cultivar la amistad de Bilbo.

Lamento decir que no le importaba. Se sentia muy contento; y el sonido de la
marmita sobre el hogar era mucho mas musical de lo que habia sido antes, incluso
en aquellos dias tranquilos anteriores a la Tertulia Inesperada. La espada la colgo
sobre la repisa de la chimenea. La cota de malla fue colocada sobre una
plataforma en el vestibulo (hasta que la presto a un museo). El oro y la plata los
gasto en generosos presentes, tanto utiles como extravagantes, lo que explica
hasta cierto punto el afecto de los sobrinos y sobrinas. El anillo magico lo guardo
muy en secreto, pues ahora lo usaba sobre todo cuando llegaban visitas
desagradables.

Se dedico a escribir poemas y a visitar a los elfos; y aunque muchos meneaban la
cabeza y se tocaban la f rente, y decian: — jPobre viejo Bolson! — , y pocos creian
en las historias que a veces contaba, se sintio muy feliz hasta el fin de sus dias,
que fueron extraordinariamente largos.



183



Una tarde otonal, algunos anos despues, Bilbo estaba sentado en el estudio
escribiendo sus memorias — pensaba llamarlas Historia de una ida y de una
vuelta. Las vacaciones de un hobbit — cuando sono la campanula. Alii en la puerta
estaban Gandalf y un enano, y el enano no era otro que Balin.

— jEntrad! jEntrad! — dijo Bilbo, y pronto estuvieron sentados en sillas junto al
fuego. Y — si Balin advirtio que el chaleco del senor Bolson era mas ancho (y tenia
botones de oro autentico), Bilbo advirtio tambien que la barba de Balin era varias
pulgadas mas larga, y que el llevaba un magnifico cinturon enjoyado.

Se pusieron a hablar de los tiempos que habian pasado juntos, desde luego, y
Bilbo pregunto como iban las cosas por las tierras de la Montana. Parecia que
iban muy bien. Bardo habia reconstruido la ciudad de Valle, y muchos hombres se
le habian unido, hombres del Lago, y del Sur y el Oeste, y cultivaban el valle que
era prospero otra vez, y en la desolacion de Smaug habia pajaros y flores en
primavera, y fruta v festejos en otoho. Y la Ciudad del Lago habia sido fundada de
nuevo, y era mas opulenta que nunca, y muchas riquezas subian y bajaban por el
Rio Rapido; v habia amistad en aquellas regiones entre elfos y enanos y hombres.

El viejo gobernador habia tenido un mal fin. Bardo le habia dado mucho oro para
que ayudara a la gente del Lago, pero era un hombre propenso a contagiarse de
ciertas enfermedades, y habia sido atacado por el mal del dragon, y apoderandose
de la mayor parte del ero, habia huido con el, y murio de hambre en el Yermo,
abandonado por sus compaheros.

— El nuevo gobernador es mas — sabio — dijo Balin — , y muy popular, pues a el se
atribuye mucha de la prosperidad presente. Las nuevas canciones dicen que en
estos dias los rios corren con oro.

— jEntonces las profecias de las viejas canciones se han cumplido de alguna
manera! — dijo Bilbo.

— jClaro! — dijo Gandalf — . <j,Y por que no tendrian que cumplirse? ^No dejaras de
creer en las profecias solo porque ayudaste a que se cumplieran? No supondras.
^verdad?, que todas tus aventuras y escapadas fueron producto de la mera
suerte, para tu beneficio exclusivo. Te considero una gran persona, sehor Bolson,
y te aprecio mucho; pero en ultima instancia jeres solo un simple individuo en un
mundo enorme!

— jGracias al cielo! — dijo Bilbo riendo, y le paso el pote de tabaco —



184

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Showing posts with label The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party. Show all posts
Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party
When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be
celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special
magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton.
Bilbo was very rich and very peculiar, and had been the wonder of the
Shire for sixty years, ever since his remarkable disappearance and
unexpected return. The riches he had brought back from his travels had now
become a local legend, and it was popularly believed, whatever the old folk
might say, that the Hill at Bag End was full of tunnels stuffed with
treasure. And if that was not enough for fame, there was also his prolonged
vigour to marvel at. Time wore on, but it seemed to have little effect on
Mr. Baggins. At ninety he was much the same as at fifty. At ninety-nine they
began to call him well-preserved, but unchanged would have been nearer the
mark. There were some that shook their heads and thought this was too much
of a good thing; it seemed unfair that anyone should possess (apparently)
perpetual youth as well as (reputedly) inexhaustible wealth.
'It will have to be paid for,' they said. 'It isn't natural, and
trouble will come of it!'
But so far trouble had not come; and as Mr. Baggins was generous with
his money, most people were willing to forgive him his oddities and his good
fortune. He remained on visiting terms with his relatives (except, of
course, the Sackville-Bagginses), and he had many devoted admirers among
the
hobbits of poor and unimportant families. But he had no close friends, until
some of his younger cousins began to grow up.
The eldest of these, and Bilbo's favourite, was young Frodo Baggins.
When Bilbo was ninety-nine, he adopted Frodo as his heir, and brought him to
live at Bag End; and the hopes of the Sackville-Bagginses were finally
dashed. Bilbo and Frodo happened to have the same birthday, September
22nd.
'You had better come and live here, Frodo my lad,' said Bilbo one day; 'and
then we can celebrate our birthday-parties comfortably together.' At that
time Frodo was still in his tweens, as the hobbits called the irresponsible
twenties between childhood and coming of age at thirty-three.
Twelve more years passed. Each year the Bagginses had given very lively
combined birthday-parties at Bag End; but now it was understood that
something quite exceptional was being planned for that autumn. Bilbo was
going to be eleventy-one, 111, a rather curious number and a very
respectable age for a hobbit (the Old Took himself had only reached 130);
and Frodo was going to be thirty-three, 33) an important number: the date of
his 'coming of age'.
Tongues began to wag in Hobbiton and Bywater; and rumour of the coming
event travelled all over the Shire. The history and character of Mr. Bilbo
Baggins became once again the chief topic of conversation; and the older
folk suddenly found their reminiscences in welcome demand.
No one had a more attentive audience than old Ham Gamgee, commonly
known as the Gaffer. He held forth at The Ivy Bush, a small inn on the
Bywater road; and he spoke with some authority, for he had tended the garden
at Bag End for forty years, and had helped old Holman in the same job before
that. Now that he was himself growing old and stiff in the joints, the job
was mainly carried on by his youngest son, Sam Gamgee. Both father and son
were on very friendly terms with Bilbo and Frodo. They lived on the Hill
itself, in Number 3 Bagshot Row just below Bag End.
'A very nice well-spoken gentlehobbit is Mr. Bilbo, as I've always
said,' the Gaffer declared. With perfect truth: for Bilbo was very polite to
him, calling him 'Master Hamfast', and consulting him constantly upon the
growing of vegetables - in the matter of 'roots', especially potatoes, the
Gaffer was recognized as the leading authority by all in the neighbourhood
(including himself).
'But what about this Frodo that lives with him?' asked Old Noakes of
Bywater. 'Baggins is his name, but he's more than half a Brandybuck, they
say. It beats me why any Baggins of Hobbiton should go looking for a wife
away there in Buckland, where folks are so queer.'
'And no wonder they're queer,' put in Daddy Twofoot (the Gaffer's
next-door neighbour), 'if they live on the wrong side of the Brandywine
River, and right agin the Old Forest. That's a dark bad place, if half the
tales be true.'
'You're right, Dad!' said the Gaffer. 'Not that the Brandybucks of
Buck-land live in the Old Forest; but they're a queer breed, seemingly. They
fool about with boats on that big river - and that isn't natural. Small
wonder that trouble came of it, I say. But be that as it may, Mr. Frodo is
as nice a young hobbit as you could wish to meet. Very much like Mr. Bilbo,
and in more than looks. After all his father was a Baggins. A decent
respectable hobbit was Mr. Drogo Baggins; there was never much to tell of
him, till he was drownded.'
'Drownded?' said several voices. They had heard this and other darker
rumours before, of course; but hobbits have a passion for family history,
and they were ready to hear it again. 'Well, so they say,' said the Gaffer.
'You see: Mr. Drogo, he married poor Miss Primula Brandybuck. She was
our
Mr. Bilbo's first cousin on the mother's side (her mother being the youngest
of the Old Took's daughters); and Mr. Drogo was his second cousin. So Mr.
Frodo is his first and second cousin, once removed either way, as the saying
is, if you follow me. And Mr. Drogo was staying at Brandy Hall with his
father-in-law, old Master Gorbadoc, as he often did after his marriage (him
being partial to his vittles, and old Gorbadoc keeping a mighty generous
table); and he went out boating on the Brandywine River; and he and his wife
were drownded, and poor Mr. Frodo only a child and all. '
'I've heard they went on the water after dinner in the moonlight,' said
Old Noakes; 'and it was Drogo's weight as sunk the boat.'
'And I heard she pushed him in, and he pulled her in after him,' said
Sandyman, the Hobbiton miller.
'You shouldn't listen to all you hear, Sandyman,' said the Gaffer, who
did not much like the miller. 'There isn't no call to go talking of pushing
and pulling. Boats are quite tricky enough for those that sit still without
looking further for the cause of trouble. Anyway: there was this Mr. Frodo
left an orphan and stranded, as you might say, among those queer
Bucklanders, being brought up anyhow in Brandy Hall. A regular warren, by
all accounts. Old Master Gorbadoc never had fewer than a couple of hundred
relations in the place. Mr. Bilbo never did a kinder deed than when he
brought the lad back to live among decent folk.
'But I reckon it was a nasty shock for those Sackville-Bagginses. They
thought they were going to get Bag End, that time when he went off and was
thought to be dead. And then he comes back and orders them off; and he goes
on living and living, and never looking a day older, bless him! And suddenly
he produces an heir, and has all the papers made out proper. The
Sackville-Bagginses won't never see the inside of Bag End now, or it is to
be hoped not.'
'There's a tidy bit of money tucked away up there, I hear tell,' said a
stranger, a visitor on business from Michel Delving in the Westfarthing.
'All the top of your hill is full of tunnels packed with chests of gold and
silver, and jools, by what I've heard. '
'Then you've heard more than I can speak to,' answered the Gaffer. I
know nothing about jools. Mr. Bilbo is free with his money, and there seems
no lack of it; but I know of no tunnel-making. I saw Mr. Bilbo when he came
back, a matter of sixty years ago, when I was a lad. I'd not long come
prentice to old Holman (him being my dad's cousin), but he had me up at Bag
End helping him to keep folks from trampling and trapessing all over the
garden while the sale was on. And in the middle of it all Mr. Bilbo comes up
the Hill with a pony and some mighty big bags and a couple of chests. I
don't doubt they were mostly full of treasure he had picked up in foreign
parts, where there be mountains of gold, they say; but there wasn't enough
to fill tunnels. But my lad Sam will know more about that. He's in and out
of Bag End. Crazy about stories of the old days he is, and he listens to all
Mr. Bilbo's tales. Mr. Bilbo has learned him his letters - meaning no harm,
mark you, and I hope no harm will come of it.
'Elves and Dragons' I says to him. 'Cabbages and potatoes are better
for me and you. Don't go getting mixed up in the business of your betters,
or you'll land in trouble too big for you,' I says to him. And I might say
it to others,' he added with a look at the stranger and the miller.
But the Gaffer did not convince his audience. The legend of Bilbo's
wealth was now too firmly fixed in the minds of the younger generation of
hobbits.
'Ah, but he has likely enough been adding to what he brought at first,'
argued the miller, voicing common opinion. 'He's often away from home. And
look at the outlandish folk that visit him: dwarves coming at night, and
that old wandering conjuror, Gandalf, and all. You can say what you like,
Gaffer, but Bag End's a queer place, and its folk are queerer.'
'And you can say what you like, about what you know no more of than you
do of boating, Mr. Sandyman,' retorted the Gaffer, disliking the miller even
more than usual. If that's being queer, then we could do with a bit more
queerness in these parts. There's some not far away that wouldn't offer a
pint of beer to a friend, if they lived in a hole with golden walls. But
they do things proper at Bag End. Our Sam says that everyone's going to be
invited to the party, and there's going to be presents, mark you, presents
for all - this very month as is.'
That very month was September, and as fine as you could ask. A day or
two later a rumour (probably started by the knowledgeable Sam) was spread
about that there were going to be fireworks - fireworks, what is more, such
as had not been seen in the Shire for nigh on a century, not indeed since
the Old Took died.
Days passed and The Day drew nearer. An odd-looking waggon laden with
odd-looking packages rolled into Hobbiton one evening and toiled up the Hill
to Bag End. The startled hobbits peered out of lamplit doors to gape at it.
It was driven by outlandish folk, singing strange songs: dwarves with long
beards and deep hoods. A few of them remained at Bag End. At the end of the
second week in September a cart came in through Bywater from the direction
of the Brandywine Bridge in broad daylight. An old man was driving it all
alone. He wore a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, and a silver
scarf. He had a long white beard and bushy eyebrows that stuck out beyond
the brim of his hat. Small hobbit-children ran after the cart all through
Hobbiton and right up the hill. It had a cargo of fireworks, as they rightly
guessed. At Bilbo's front door the old man began to unload: there were great
bundles of fireworks of all sorts and shapes, each labelled with a large red
G and the elf-rune, .
That was Gandalf's mark, of course, and the old man was Gandalf the
Wizard, whose fame in the Shire was due mainly to his skill with fires,
smokes, and lights. His real business was far more difficult and dangerous,
but the Shire-folk knew nothing about it. To them he was just one of the
'attractions' at the Party. Hence the excitement of the hobbit-children. 'G
for Grand!' they shouted, and the old man smiled. They knew him by sight,
though he only appeared in Hobbiton occasionally and never stopped long; but
neither they nor any but the oldest of their elders had seen one of his
firework displays - they now belonged to the legendary past.
When the old man, helped by Bilbo and some dwarves, had finished
unloading. Bilbo gave a few pennies away; but not a single squib or cracker
was forthcoming, to the disappointment of the onlookers.
'Run away now!' said Gandalf. 'You will get plenty when the time
comes.' Then he disappeared inside with Bilbo, and the door was shut. The
young hobbits stared at the door in vain for a while, and then made off,
feeling that the day of the party would never come.
Inside Bag End, Bilbo and Gandalf were sitting at the open window of a
small room looking out west on to the garden. The late afternoon was bright
and peaceful. The flowers glowed red and golden: snap-dragons and
sun-flowers, and nasturtiums trailing all over the turf walls and peeping in
at the round windows.
'How bright your garden looks!' said Gandalf.
'Yes,' said Bilbo. I am very fond indeed of it, and of all the dear old
Shire; but I think I need a holiday.'
'You mean to go on with your plan then?'
'I do. I made up my mind months ago, and I haven't changed it.'
'Very well. It is no good saying any more. Stick to your plan - your
whole plan, mind - and I hope it will turn out for the best, for you, and
for all of us.'
'I hope so. Anyway I mean to enjoy myself on Thursday, and have my
little joke.'
'Who will laugh, I wonder?' said Gandalf, shaking his head.
'We shall see,' said Bilbo.
The next day more carts rolled up the Hill, and still more carts. There
might have been some grumbling about 'dealing locally', but that very week
orders began to pour out of Bag End for every kind of provision, commodity,
or luxury that could be obtained in Hobbiton or Bywater or anywhere in the
neighbourhood. People became enthusiastic; and they began to tick off the
days on the calendar; and they watched eagerly for the postman, hoping for
invitations.
Before long the invitations began pouring out, and the Hobbiton
post-office was blocked, and the Bywater post-office was snowed under, and
voluntary assistant postmen were called for. There was a constant stream of
them going up the Hill, carrying hundreds of polite variations on Thank you,
I shall certainly come.
A notice appeared on the gate at Bag End: NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT
ON PARTY
BUSINESS. Even those who had, or pretended to have Party Business were
seldom allowed inside. Bilbo was busy: writing invitations, ticking off
answers, packing up presents, and making some private preparations of his
own. From the time of Gandalf's arrival he remained hidden from view.
One morning the hobbits woke to find the large field, south of Bilbo's
front door, covered with ropes and poles for tents and pavilions. A special
entrance was cut into the bank leading to the road, and wide steps and a
large white gate were built there. The three hobbit-families of Bagshot Row,
adjoining the field, were intensely interested and generally envied. Old
Gaffer Gamgee stopped even pretending to work in his garden.
The tents began to go up. There was a specially large pavilion, so big
that the tree that grew in the field was right inside it, and stood proudly
near one end, at the head of the chief table. Lanterns were hung on all its
branches. More promising still (to the hobbits' mind): an enormous open-air
kitchen was erected in the north corner of the field. A draught of cooks,
from every inn and eating-house for miles around, arrived to supplement the
dwarves and other odd folk that were quartered at Bag End. Excitement rose
to its height.
Then the weather clouded over. That was on Wednesday the eve of the
Party. Anxiety was intense. Then Thursday, September the 22nd, actually
dawned. The sun got up, the clouds vanished, flags were unfurled and the fun
began.
Bilbo Baggins called it a party, but it was really a variety of
entertainments rolled into one. Practically everybody living near was
invited. A very few were overlooked by accident, but as they turned up all
the same, that did not matter. Many people from other parts of the Shire
were also asked; and there were even a few from outside the borders. Bilbo
met the guests (and additions) at the new white gate in person. He gave away
presents to all and sundry - the latter were those who went out again by a
back way and came in again by the gate. Hobbits give presents to other
people on their own birthdays. Not very expensive ones, as a rule, and not
so lavishly as on this occasion; but it was not a bad system. Actually in
Hobbiton and Bywater every day in the year it was somebody's birthday, so
that every hobbit in those parts had a fair chance of at least one present
at least once a week. But they never got tired of them.
On this occasion the presents were unusually good. The hobbit-children
were so excited that for a while they almost forgot about eating. There were
toys the like of which they had never seen before, all beautiful and some
obviously magical. Many of them had indeed been ordered a year before, and
had come all the way from the Mountain and from Dale, and were of real
dwarf-make.
When every guest had been welcomed and was finally inside the gate,
there were songs, dances, music, games, and, of course, food and drink.
There were three official meals: lunch, tea, and dinner (or supper). But
lunch and tea were marked chiefly by the fact that at those times all the
guests were sitting down and eating together. At other times there were
merely lots of people eating and drinking - continuously from elevenses
until six-thirty, when the fireworks started.
The fireworks were by Gandalf: they were not only brought by him, but
designed and made by him; and the special effects, set pieces, and flights
of rockets were let off by him. But there was also a generous distribution
of squibs, crackers, backarappers, sparklers, torches, dwarf-candles,
elf-fountains, goblin-barkers and thunder-claps. They were all superb. The
art of Gandalf improved with age.
There were rockets like a flight of scintillating birds singing with
sweet voices. There were green trees with trunks of dark smoke: their leaves
opened like a whole spring unfolding in a moment, and their shining branches
dropped glowing flowers down upon the astonished hobbits, disappearing with
a sweet scent just before they touched their upturned faces. There were
fountains of butterflies that flew glittering into the trees; there were
pillars of coloured fires that rose and turned into eagles, or sailing
ships, or a phalanx of flying swans; there was a red thunderstorm and a
shower of yellow rain; there was a forest of silver spears that sprang
suddenly into the air with a yell like an embattled army, and came down
again into the Water with a hiss like a hundred hot snakes. And there was
also one last surprise, in honour of Bilbo, and it startled the hobbits
exceedingly, as Gandalf intended. The lights went out. A great smoke went
up. It shaped itself like a mountain seen in the distance, and began to glow
at the summit. It spouted green and scarlet flames. Out flew a red-golden
dragon - not life-size, but terribly life-like: fire came from his jaws, his
eyes glared down; there was a roar, and he whizzed three times over the
heads of the crowd. They all ducked, and many fell flat on their faces. The
dragon passed like an express train, turned a somersault, and burst over
Bywater with a deafening explosion.
'That is the signal for supper!' said Bilbo. The pain and alarm
vanished at once, and the prostrate hobbits leaped to their feet. There was
a splendid supper for everyone; for everyone, that is, except those invited
to the special family dinner-party. This was held in the great pavilion with
the tree. The invitations were limited to twelve dozen (a number also called
by the hobbits one Gross, though the word was not considered proper to use
of people); and the guests were selected from all the families to which
Bilbo and Frodo were related, with the addition of a few special unrelated
friends (such as Gandalf). Many young hobbits were included, and present by
parental permission; for hobbits were easy-going with their children in the
matter of sitting up late, especially when there was a chance of getting
them a free meal. Bringing up young hobbits took a lot of provender.
There were many Bagginses and Boffins, and also many Tooks and
Brandybucks; there were various Grubbs (relations of Bilbo Baggins'
grandmother), and various Chubbs (connexions of his Took grandfather); and a
selection of Burrowses, Bolgers, Bracegirdles, Brockhouses, Goodbodies,
Hornblowers and Proudfoots. Some of these were only very distantly
connected
with Bilbo, and some of them had hardly ever been in Hobbiton before, as
they lived in remote corners of the Shire. The Sackville-Bagginses were not
forgotten. Otho and his wife Lobelia were present. They disliked Bilbo and
detested Frodo, but so magnificent was the invitation card, written in
golden ink, that they had felt it was impossible to refuse. Besides, their
cousin, Bilbo, had been specializing in food for many years and his table
had a high reputation.
All the one hundred and forty-four guests expected a pleasant feast;
though they rather dreaded the after-dinner speech of their host (an
inevitable item). He was liable to drag in bits of what he called poetry;
and sometimes, after a glass or two, would allude to the absurd adventures
of his mysterious journey. The guests were not disappointed: they had a very
pleasant feast, in fact an engrossing entertainment: rich, abundant, varied,
and prolonged. The purchase of provisions fell almost to nothing throughout
the district in the ensuing weeks; but as Bilbo's catering had depleted the
stocks of most stores, cellars and warehouses for miles around, that did not
matter much.
After the feast (more or less) came the Speech. Most of the company
were, however, now in a tolerant mood, at that delightful stage which they
called 'filling up the corners'. They were sipping their favourite drinks,
and nibbling at their favourite dainties, and their fears were forgotten.
They were prepared to listen to anything, and to cheer at every full stop.
My dear People, began Bilbo, rising in his place. 'Hear! Hear! Hear!'
they shouted, and kept on repeating it in chorus, seeming reluctant to
follow their own advice. Bilbo left his place and went and stood on a chair
under the illuminated tree. The light of the lanterns fell on his beaming
face; the golden buttons shone on his embroidered silk waistcoat. They could
all see him standing, waving one hand in the air, the other was in his
trouser-pocket.
My dear Bagginses and Boffins, he began again; and my dear Tooks and
Brandybucks, and Grubbs, and Chubbs, and Burrowses, and Hornblowers,
and
Bolgers, Bracegirdles, Goodbodies, Brockhouses and Proudfoots.
'ProudFEET!'
shouted an elderly hobbit from the back of the pavilion. His name, of
course, was Proudfoot, and well merited; his feet were large, exceptionally
furry, and both were on the table.
Proudfoots, repeated Bilbo. Also my good Sackville-Bagginses that I
welcome back at last to Bag End. Today is my one hundred and eleventh
birthday: I am eleventy-one today! 'Hurray! Hurray! Many Happy Returns!'
they shouted, and they hammered joyously on the tables. Bilbo was doing
splendidly. This was the sort of stuff they liked: short and obvious.
/ hope you are all enjoying yourselves as much as I am. Deafening
cheers. Cries of Yes (and No). Noises of trumpets and horns, pipes and
flutes, and other musical instruments. There were, as has been said, many
young hobbits present. Hundreds of musical crackers had been pulled. Most of
them bore the mark DALE on them; which did not convey much to most of
the
hobbits, but they all agreed they were marvellous crackers. They contained
instruments, small, but of perfect make and enchanting tones. Indeed, in one
corner some of the young Tooks and Brandybucks, supposing Uncle Bilbo to
have finished (since he had plainly said all that was necessary), now got up
an impromptu orchestra, and began a merry dance-tune. Master Everard Took
and Miss Melilot Brandybuck got on a table and with bells in their hands
began to dance the Springle-ring: a pretty dance, but rather vigorous.
But Bilbo had not finished. Seizing a horn from a youngster near by, he
blew three loud hoots. The noise subsided. / shall not keep you long, he
cried. Cheers from all the assembly. / have called you all together for a
Purpose. Something in the way that he said this made an impression. There
was almost silence, and one or two of the Tooks pricked up their ears.
Indeed, for Three Purposes! First of all, to tell you that I am
immensely fond of you all, and that eleventy-one years is too short a time
to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits. Tremendous outburst of
approval.
/ don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less
than half of you half as well as you deserve. This was unexpected and rather
difficult. There was some scattered clapping, but most of them were trying
to work it out and see if it came to a compliment.
Secondly, to celebrate my birthday. Cheers again. / should say: OUR
birthday. For it is, of course, also the birthday of my heir and nephew,
Frodo. He comes of age and into his inheritance today. Some perfunctory
clapping by the elders; and some loud shouts of 'Frodo! Frodo! Jolly old
Frodo,' from the juniors. The Sackville-Bagginses scowled, and wondered what
was meant by 'coming into his inheritance'. Together we score one hundred
and forty-four. Your numbers were chosen to fit this remarkable total: One
Gross, if I may use the expression. No cheers. This was ridiculous. Many of
his guests, and especially the Sackville-Bagginses, were insulted, feeling
sure they had only been asked to fill up the required number, like goods in
a package. 'One Gross, indeed! Vulgar expression.'
It is also, if I may be allowed to refer to ancient history, the
anniversary of my arrival by barrel at Esgaroth on the Long Lake; though the
fact that it was my birthday slipped my memory on that occasion. I was only
fifty-one then, and birthdays did not seem so important. The banquet was
very splendid, however, though I had a bad cold at the time, I remember, and
could only say 'thag you very buch'. I now repeat it more correctly: Thank
you very much for coming to my little party. Obstinate silence. They all
feared that a song or some poetry was now imminent; and they were getting
bored. Why couldn't he stop talking and let them drink his health? But Bilbo
did not sing or recite. He paused for a moment.
Thirdly and finally, he said, I wish to make an ANNOUNCEMENT. He
spoke
this last word so loudly and suddenly that everyone sat up who still could.
I regret to announce that - though, as I said, eleventy-one years is far too
short a time to spend among you - this is the END. I am going. I am leaving
NOW. GOOD-BYE!
He stepped down and vanished. There was a blinding flash of light, and
the guests all blinked. When they opened their eyes Bilbo was nowhere to be
seen. One hundred and forty-four flabbergasted hobbits sat back speechless.
Old Odo Proudfoot removed his feet from the table and stamped. Then there
was a dead silence, until suddenly, after several deep breaths, every
Baggins, Boffin, Took, Brandybuck, Grubb, Chubb, Burrows, Bolger,
Bracegirdle, Brockhouse, Goodbody, Hornblower, and Proudfoot began to
talk
at once.
It was generally agreed that the joke was in very bad taste, and more
food and drink were needed to cure the guests of shock and annoyance. 'He's
mad. I always said so,' was probably the most popular comment. Even the
Tooks (with a few exceptions) thought Bilbo's behaviour was absurd. For the
moment most of them took it for granted that his disappearance was nothing
more than a ridiculous prank.
But old Rory Brandybuck was not so sure. Neither age nor an enormous
dinner had clouded his wits, and he said to his daughter-in-law, Esmeralda:
'There's something fishy in this, my dear! I believe that mad Baggins is off
again. Silly old fool. But why worry? He hasn't taken the vittles with him.'
He called loudly to Frodo to send the wine round again.
Frodo was the only one present who had said nothing. For some time he
had sat silent beside Bilbo's empty chair, and ignored all remarks and
questions. He had enjoyed the joke, of course, even though he had been in
the know. He had difficulty in keeping from laughter at the indignant
surprise of the guests. But at the same time he felt deeply troubled: he
realized suddenly that he loved the old hobbit dearly. Most of the guests
went on eating and drinking and discussing Bilbo Baggins' oddities, past and
present; but the Sackville-Bagginses had already departed in wrath. Frodo
did not want to have any more to do with the party. He gave orders for more
wine to be served; then he got up and drained his own glass silently to the
health of Bilbo, and slipped out of the pavilion.
As for Bilbo Baggins, even while he was making his speech, he had been
fingering the golden ring in his pocket: his magic ring that he had kept
secret for so many years. As he stepped down he slipped it on his finger,
and he was never seen by any hobbit in Hobbiton again.
He walked briskly back to his hole, and stood for a moment listening
with a smile to the din in the pavilion and to the sounds of merrymaking in
other parts of the field. Then he went in. He took off his party clothes,
folded up and wrapped in tissue-paper his embroidered silk waistcoat, and
put it away. Then he put on quickly some old untidy garments, and fastened
round his waist a worn leather belt. On it he hung a short sword in a
battered black-leather scabbard. From a locked drawer, smelling of
moth-balls, he took out an old cloak and hood. They had been locked up as if
they were very precious, but they were so patched and weatherstained that
their original colour could hardly be guessed: it might have been dark
green. They were rather too large for him. He then went into his study, and
from a large strong-box took out a bundle wrapped in old cloths, and a
leather-bound manuscript; and also a large bulky envelope. The book and
bundle he stuffed into the top of a heavy bag that was standing there,
already nearly full. Into the envelope he slipped his golden ring, and its
fine chain, and then sealed it, and addressed it to Frodo. At first he put
it on the mantelpiece, but suddenly he removed it and stuck it in his
pocket. At that moment the door opened and Gandalf came quickly in.
'Hullo!' said Bilbo. 'I wondered if you would turn up.'
'I am glad to find you visible,' replied the wizard, sitting down in a
chair, 'I wanted to catch you and have a few final words. I suppose you feel
that everything has gone off splendidly and according to plan?'
'Yes, I do,' said Bilbo. "Though that flash was surprising: it quite
startled me, let alone the others. A little addition of your own, I
suppose?'
It was. You have wisely kept that ring secret all these years, and it
seemed to me necessary to give your guests something else that would seem to
explain your sudden vanishment.'
'And would spoil my joke. You are an interfering old busybody,' laughed
Bilbo, 'but I expect you know best, as usual.'
'I do - when I know anything. But I don't feel too sure about this
whole affair. It has now come to the final point. You have had your joke,
and alarmed or offended most of your relations, and given the whole Shire
something to talk about for nine days, or ninety-nine more likely. Are you
going any further?'
'Yes, I am. I feel I need a holiday, a very long holiday, as I have
told you before. Probably a permanent holiday: I don't expect I shall
return. In fact, I don't mean to, and I have made all arrangements.
'I am old, Gandalf. I don't look it, but I am beginning to feel it in
my heart of hearts. Well-preserved indeed!' he snorted. 'Why, I feel all
thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been
scraped over too much bread. That can't be right. I need a change, or
something.'
Gandalf looked curiously and closely at him. 'No, it does not seem
right,' he said thoughtfully. 'No, after all I believe your plan is probably
the best.'
'Well, I've made up my mind, anyway. I want to see mountains again,
Gandalf, mountains, and then find somewhere where I can rest. In peace and
quiet, without a lot of relatives prying around, and a string of confounded
visitors hanging on the bell. I might find somewhere where I can finish my
book. I have thought of a nice ending for it: and he lived happily ever
after to the end of his days. '
Gandalf laughed. I hope he will. But nobody will read the book, however
it ends.'
'Oh, they may, in years to come. Frodo has read some already, as far as
it has gone. You'll keep an eye on Frodo, won't you?'
'Yes, I will - two eyes, as often as I can spare them.'
'He would come with me, of course, if I asked him. In fact he offered
to once, just before the party. But he does not really want to, yet. I want
to see the wild country again before I die, and the Mountains; but he is
still in love with the Shire, with woods and fields and little rivers. He
ought to be comfortable here. I am leaving everything to him, of course,
except a few oddments. I hope he will be happy, when he gets used to being
on his own. It's time he was his own master now.'
'Everything?' said Gandalf. 'The ring as well? You agreed to that, you
remember.'
'Well, er, yes, I suppose so,' stammered Bilbo.
'Where is it?'
'In an envelope, if you must know,' said Bilbo impatiently. 'There on
the mantelpiece. Well, no! Here it is in my pocket!' He hesitated. 'Isn't
that odd now?' he said softly to himself. 'Yet after all, why not? Why
shouldn't it stay there?'
Gandalf looked again very hard at Bilbo, and there was a gleam in his
eyes. 'I think, Bilbo,' he said quietly, 'I should leave it behind. Don't
you want to?'
'Well yes - and no. Now it comes to it, I don't like parting with it at
all, I may say. And I don't really see why I should. Why do you want me to?'
he asked, and a curious change came over his voice. It was sharp with
suspicion and annoyance. 'You are always badgering me about my ring; but
you
have never bothered me about the other things that I got on my journey.'
'No, but I had to badger you,' said Gandalf. 'I wanted the truth. It
was important. Magic rings are - well, magical; and they are rare and
curious. I was professionally interested in your ring, you may say; and I
still am. I should like to know where it is, if you go wandering again. Also
I think you have had it quite long enough. You won't need it any more.
Bilbo, unless I am quite mistaken.'
Bilbo flushed, and there was an angry light in his eyes. His kindly
face grew hard. 'Why not?' he cried. 'And what business is it of yours,
anyway, to know what I do with my own things? It is my own. I found it. It
came to me.'
'Yes, yes,' said Gandalf. 'But there is no need to get angry.'
'If I am it is your fault,' said Bilbo. 'It is mine, I tell you. My
own. My precious. Yes, my precious.'
The wizard's face remained grave and attentive, and only a flicker in
his deep eyes showed that he was startled and indeed alarmed. 'It has been
called that before,' he said, 'but not by you.'
'But I say it now. And why not? Even if Gollum said the same once. It's
not his now, but mine. And I shall keep it, I say.'
Gandalf stood up. He spoke sternly. 'You will be a fool if you do.
Bilbo,' he said. 'You make that clearer with every word you say. It has got
far too much hold on you. Let it go! And then you can go yourself, and be
free.'
'I'll do as I choose and go as I please,' said Bilbo obstinately.
'Now, now, my dear hobbit! ' said Gandalf. 'All your long life we have
been friends, and you owe me something. Come! Do as you promised: give it
up! '
'Well, if you want my ring yourself, say so!' cried Bilbo. 'But you
won't get it. I won't give my precious away, I tell you.' His hand strayed
to the hilt of his small sword.
Gandalf's eyes flashed. It will be my turn to get angry soon,' he said.
If you say that again, I shall. Then you will see Gandalf the Grey
uncloaked.' He took a step towards the hobbit, and he seemed to grow tall
and menacing; his shadow filled the little room.
Bilbo backed away to the wall, breathing hard, his hand clutching at
his pocket. They stood for a while facing one another, and the air of the
room tingled. Gandalf's eyes remained bent on the hobbit. Slowly his hands
relaxed, and he began to tremble.
'I don't know what has come over you, Gandalf,' he said. 'You have
never been like this before. What is it all about? It is mine isn't it? I
found it, and Gollum would have killed me, if I hadn't kept it. I'm not a
thief, whatever he said.'
'I have never called you one,' Gandalf answered. 'And I am not one
either. I am not trying to rob you, but to help you. I wish you would trust
me, as you used.' He turned away, and the shadow passed. He seemed to
dwindle again to an old grey man, bent and troubled.
Bilbo drew his hand over his eyes. I am sorry,' he said. 'But I felt so
queer. And yet it would be a relief in a way not to be bothered with it any
more. It has been so growing on my mind lately. Sometimes I have felt it was
like an eye looking at me. And I am always wanting to put it on and
disappear, don't you know; or wondering if it is safe, and pulling it out to
make sure. I tried locking it up, but I found I couldn't rest without it in
my pocket. I don't know why. And I don't seem able to make up my mind.'
'Then trust mine,' said Gandalf. 'It is quite made up. Go away and
leave it behind. Stop possessing it. Give it to Frodo, and I will look after
him.'
Bilbo stood for a moment tense and undecided. Presently he sighed. 'All
right,' he said with an effort. I will.' Then he shrugged his shoulders, and
smiled rather ruefully. 'After all that's what this party business was all
about, really: to give away lots of birthday presents, and somehow make it
easier to give it away at the same time. It hasn't made it any easier in the
end, but it would be a pity to waste all my preparations. It would quite
spoil the joke.'
'Indeed it would take away the only point I ever saw in the affair,'
said Gandalf.
'Very well,' said Bilbo, 'it goes to Frodo with all the rest.' He drew
a deep breath. 'And now I really must be starting, or somebody else will
catch me. I have said good-bye, and I couldn't bear to do it all over
again.' He picked up his bag and moved to the door.
'You have still got the ring in your pocket,' said the wizard. 'Well,
so I have!' cried Bilbo. 'And my will and all the other documents too. You
had better take it and deliver it for me. That will be safest.'
'No, don't give the ring to me,' said Gandalf. 'Put it on the
mantelpiece. It will be safe enough there, till Frodo comes. I shall wait
for him.'
Bilbo took out the envelope, but just as he was about to set it by the
clock, his hand jerked back, and the packet fell on the floor. Before he
could pick it up, the wizard stooped and seized it and set it in its place.
A spasm of anger passed swiftly over the hobbit's face again. Suddenly it
gave way to a look of relief and a laugh. 'Well, that's that,' he said. 'Now
I'm off!'
They went out into the hall. Bilbo chose his favourite stick from the
stand; then he whistled. Three dwarves came out of different rooms where
they had been busy.
'Is everything ready?' asked Bilbo. 'Everything packed and labelled?'
'Everything,' they answered.
'Well, let's start then!' He stepped out of the front-door.
It was a fine night, and the black sky was dotted with stars. He looked
up, sniffing the air. 'What fun! What fun to be off again, off on the Road
with dwarves! This is what I have really been longing for, for years!
Good-bye! ' he said, looking at his old home and bowing to the door.
'Good-bye, Gandalf!'
'Good-bye, for the present, Bilbo. Take care of yourself! You are old
enough, and perhaps wise enough.'
'Take care! I don't care. Don't you worry about me! I am as happy now
as I have ever been, and that is saying a great deal. But the time has come.
I am being swept off my feet at last,' he added, and then in a low voice, as
if to himself, he sang softly in the dark:
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
He paused, silent for a moment. Then without another word he turned
away from the lights and voices in the fields and tents, and followed by his
three companions went round into his garden, and trotted down the long
sloping path. He jumped over a low place in the hedge at the bottom, and
took to the meadows, passing into the night like a rustle of wind in the
grass.
Gandalf remained for a while staring after him into the darkness.
'Goodbye, my dear Bilbo - until our next meeting!' he said softly and went
back indoors.
Frodo came in soon afterwards, and found him sitting in the dark, deep
in thought. 'Has he gone?' he asked.
'Yes,' answered Gandalf, 'he has gone at last.'
' I wish - I mean, I hoped until this evening that it was only a joke,'
said Frodo. 'But I knew in my heart that he really meant to go. He always
used to joke about serious things. I wish I had come back sooner, just to
see him off.'
I think really he preferred slipping off quietly in the end,' said
Gandalf. 'Don't be too troubled. He'll be all right - now. He left a packet
for you. There it is!'
Frodo took the envelope from the mantelpiece, and glanced at it, but
did not open it.
'You'll find his will and all the other documents in there, I think,'
said the wizard. 'You are the master of Bag End now. And also, I fancy,
you'll find a golden ring.'
'The ring!' exclaimed Frodo. 'Has he left me that? I wonder why. Still,
it may be useful.'
'It may, and it may not,' said Gandalf. 'I should not make use of it,
if I were you. But keep it secret, and keep it safe! Now I am going to bed.'
As master of Bag End Frodo felt it his painful duty to say good-bye to
the guests. Rumours of strange events had by now spread all over the field,
but Frodo would only say no doubt everything will be cleared up in the
morning. About midnight carriages came for the important folk. One by one
they rolled away, filled with full but very unsatisfied hobbits. Gardeners
came by arrangement, and removed in wheel-barrows those that had
inadvertently remained behind.
Night slowly passed. The sun rose. The hobbits rose rather later.
Morning went on. People came and began (by orders) to clear away the
pavilions and the tables and the chairs, and the spoons and knives and
bottles and plates, and the lanterns, and the flowering shrubs in boxes, and
the crumbs and cracker-paper, the forgotten bags and gloves and
handkerchiefs, and the uneaten food (a very small item). Then a number of
other people came (without orders): Bagginses, and Boffins, and Bolgers, and
Tooks, and other guests that lived or were staying near. By mid-day, when
even the best-fed were out and about again, there was a large crowd at Bag
End, uninvited but not unexpected.
Frodo was waiting on the step, smiling, but looking rather tired and
worried. He welcomed all the callers, but he had not much more to say than
before. His reply to all inquiries was simply this: 'Mr. Bilbo Baggins has
gone away; as far as I know, for good.' Some of the visitors he invited to
come inside, as Bilbo had left 'messages' for them.
Inside in the hall there was piled a large assortment of packages and
parcels and small articles of furniture. On every item there was a label
tied. There were several labels of this sort:
For ADELARD TOOK, for his VERY OWN, from Bilbo, on an umbrella.
Adelard
had carried off many unlabelled ones.
For DORA BAGGINS in memory of a LONG correspondence, with love
from
Bilbo, on a large waste-paper basket. Dora was Drogo's sister and the eldest
surviving female relative of Bilbo and Frodo; she was ninety-nine, and had
written reams of good advice for more than half a century.
For MILO BURROWS, hoping it will be useful, from B.B., on a gold pen
and ink-bottle. Milo never answered letters.
For ANGELICA'S use, from Uncle Bilbo, on a round convex mirror. She
was
a young Baggins, and too obviously considered her face shapely.
For the collection of HUGO BRACEGIRDLE, from a contributor, on an
(empty) book-case. Hugo was a great borrower of books, and worse than usual
at returning them.
For LOBELIA SACKVILLE-BAGGINS, as a PRESENT, on a case of
silver
spoons. Bilbo believed that she had acquired a good many of his spoons,
while he was away on his former journey. Lobelia knew that quite well. When
she arrived later in the day, she took the point at once, but she also took
the spoons.
This is only a small selection of the assembled presents. Bilbo's
residence had got rather cluttered up with things in the course of his long
life. It was a tendency of hobbit-holes to get cluttered up: for which the
custom of giving so many birthday-presents was largely responsible. Not, of
course, that the birthday-presents were always new, there were one or two
old mathoms of forgotten uses that had circulated all around the district;
but Bilbo had usually given new presents, and kept those that he received.
The old hole was now being cleared a little.
Every one of the various parting gifts had labels, written out
personally by Bilbo, and several had some point, or some joke. But, of
course, most of the things were given where they would be wanted and
welcome. The poorer hobbits, and especially those of Bagshot Row, did very
well. Old Gaffer Gamgee got two sacks of potatoes, a new spade, a woollen
waistcoat, and a bottle of ointment for creaking joints. Old Rory
Brandybuck, in return for much hospitality, got a dozen bottles of Old
Winyards: a strong red wine from the Southfarthing, and now quite mature, as
it had been laid down by Bilbo's father. Rory quite forgave Bilbo, and voted
him a capital fellow after the first bottle.
There was plenty of everything left for Frodo. And, of course, all the
chief treasures, as well as the books, pictures, and more than enough
furniture, were left in his possession. There was, however, no sign nor
mention of money or jewellery: not a penny-piece or a glass bead was given
away.
Frodo had a very trying time that afternoon. A false rumour that the
whole household was being distributed free spread like wildfire; and before
long the place was packed with people who had no business there, but could
not be kept out. Labels got torn off and mixed, and quarrels broke out. Some
people tried to do swaps and deals in the hall; and others tried to make off
with minor items not addressed to them, or with anything that seemed
unwanted or unwatched. The road to the gate was blocked with barrows and
handcarts.
In the middle of the commotion the Sackville-Bagginses arrived. Frodo
had retired for a while and left his friend Merry Brandybuck to keep an eye
on things. When Otho loudly demanded to see Frodo, Merry bowed politely.
'He is indisposed,' he said. 'He is resting.'
'Hiding, you mean,' said Lobelia. 'Anyway we want to see him and we
mean to see him. Just go and tell him so!'
Merry left them a long while in the hall, and they had time to discover
their parting gift of spoons. It did not improve their tempers. Eventually
they were shown into the study. Frodo was sitting at a table with a lot of
papers in front of him. He looked indisposed - to see Sackville-Bagginses at
any rate; and he stood up, fidgeting with something in his pocket. But he
spoke quite politely.
The Sackville-Bagginses were rather offensive. They began by offering
him bad bargain-prices (as between friends) for various valuable and
unlabelled things. When Frodo replied that only the things specially
directed by Bilbo were being given away, they said the whole affair was very
fishy.
'Only one thing is clear to me,' said Otho, 'and that is that you are
doing exceedingly well out of it. I insist on seeing the will.'
Otho would have been Bilbo's heir, but for the adoption of Frodo. He
read the will carefully and snorted. It was, unfortunately, very clear and
correct (according to the legal customs of hobbits, which demand among other
things seven signatures of witnesses in red ink).
'Foiled again!' he said to his wife. 'And after waiting sixty years.
Spoons? Fiddlesticks!' He snapped his fingers under Frodo's nose and slumped
off. But Lobelia was not so easily got rid of. A little later Frodo came out
of the study to see how things were going on and found her still about the
place, investigating nooks and comers and tapping the floors. He escorted
her firmly off the premises, after he had relieved her of several small (but
rather valuable) articles that had somehow fallen inside her umbrella. Her
face looked as if she was in the throes of thinking out a really crushing
parting remark; but all she found to say, turning round on the step, was:
'You'll live to regret it, young fellow! Why didn't you go too? You
don't belong here; you're no Baggins - you - you're a Brandybuck!'
'Did you hear that, Merry? That was an insult, if you like,' said Frodo
as he shut the door on her.
'It was a compliment,' said Merry Brandybuck, 'and so, of course, not
true.'
Then they went round the hole, and evicted three young hobbits (two
Boffins and a Bolger) who were knocking holes in the walls of one of the
cellars. Frodo also had a tussle with young Sancho Proudfoot (old Odo
Proudfoot's grandson), who had begun an excavation in the larger pantry,
where he thought there was an echo. The legend of Bilbo's gold excited both
curiosity and hope; for legendary gold (mysteriously obtained, if not
positively ill-gotten), is, as every one knows, any one's for the finding
-unless the search is interrupted.
When he had overcome Sancho and pushed him out, Frodo collapsed on a
chair in the hall. It's time to close the shop, Merry,' he said. 'Lock the
door, and don't open it to anyone today, not even if they bring a battering
ram.' Then he went to revive himself with a belated cup of tea.
He had hardly sat down, when there came a soft knock at the front-door.
'Lobelia again most likely,' he thought. 'She must have thought of something
really nasty, and have come back again to say it. It can wait.'
He went on with his tea. The knock was repeated, much louder, but he
took no notice. Suddenly the wizard's head appeared at the window.
'If you don't let me in, Frodo, I shall blow your door right down your
hole and out through the hill,' he said.
'My dear Gandalf! Half a minute!' cried Frodo, running out of the room
to the door. 'Come in! Come in! I thought it was Lobelia.'
'Then I forgive you. But I saw her some time ago, driving a pony-trap
towards Bywater with a face that would have curdled new milk.'
'She had already nearly curdled me. Honestly, I nearly tried on Bilbo's
ring. I longed to disappear.'
'Don't do that!' said Gandalf, sitting down. 'Do be careful of that
ring, Frodo! In fact, it is partly about that that I have come to say a last
word.'
'Well, what about it?'
'What do you know already?'
'Only what Bilbo told me. I have heard his story: how he found it, and
how he used it: on his journey, I mean.'
'Which story, I wonder,' said Gandalf.
'Oh, not what he told the dwarves and put in his book,' said Frodo. 'He
told me the true story soon after I came to live here. He said you had
pestered him till he told you, so I had better know too. "No secrets between
us, Frodo," he said; "but they are not to go any further. It's mine
anyway."'
'That's interesting,' said Gandalf. 'Well, what did you think of it
all?'
'If you mean, inventing all that about a "present", well, I thought the
true story much more likely, and I couldn't see the point of altering it at
all. It was very unlike Bilbo to do so, anyway; and I thought it rather
odd.'
'So did I. But odd things may happen to people that have such treasures
- if they use them. Let it be a warning to you to be very careful with it.
It may have other powers than just making you vanish when you wish to.'
'I don't understand,' said Frodo.
'Neither do I,' answered the wizard. 'I have merely begun to wonder
about the ring, especially since last night. No need to worry. But if you
take my advice you will use it very seldom, or not at all. At least I beg
you not to use it in any way that will cause talk or rouse suspicion. I say
again: keep it safe, and keep it secret!'
'You are very mysterious! What are you afraid of?'
'I am not certain, so I will say no more. I may be able to tell you
something when I come back. I am going off at once: so this is good-bye for
the present.' He got up.
'At once!' cried Frodo. 'Why, I thought you were staying on for at
least a week. I was looking forward to your help.'
'I did mean to - but I have had to change my mind. I may be away for a
good while; but I'll come and see you again, as soon as I can. Expect me
when you see me! I shall slip in quietly. I shan't often be visiting the
Shire openly again. I find that I have become rather unpopular. They say I
am a nuisance and a disturber of the peace. Some people are actually
accusing me of spiriting Bilbo away, or worse. If you want to know, there is
supposed to be a plot between you and me to get hold of his wealth.'
'Some people!' exclaimed Frodo. 'You mean Otho and Lobelia. How
abominable! I would give them Bag End and everything else, if I could get
Bilbo back and go off tramping in the country with him. I love the Shire.
But I begin to wish, somehow, that I had gone too. I wonder if I shall ever
see him again.'
'So do I,' said Gandalf. 'And I wonder many other things. Good-bye now!
Take care of yourself! Look out for me, especially at unlikely times!
Good-bye!'
Frodo saw him to the door. He gave a final wave of his hand, and walked
off at a surprising pace; but Frodo thought the old wizard looked unusually
bent, almost as if he was carrying a great weight. The evening was closing
in, and his cloaked figure quickly vanished into the twilight. Frodo did not
see him again for a long time.
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Labels: The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party
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The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 10 - Strider (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 15 - The Ring Goes South (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 20 - The Great River (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 21 - The Breaking of the Fellowship (1)


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Showing posts with label The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past. Show all posts
Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past.
The talk did not die down in nine or even ninety-nine days. The second
disappearance of Mr. Bilbo Baggins was discussed in Hobbiton, and indeed all
over the Shire, for a year and a day, and was remembered much longer than
that. It became a fireside-story for young hobbits; and eventually Mad
Baggins, who used to vanish with a bang and a flash and reappear with bags
of jewels and gold, became a favourite character of legend and lived on long
after all the true events were forgotten.
But in the meantime, the general opinion in the neighbourhood was that
Bilbo, who had always been rather cracked, had at last gone quite mad, and
had run off into the Blue. There he had undoubtedly fallen into a pool or a
river and come to a tragic, but hardly an untimely, end. The blame was
mostly laid on Gandalf.
'If only that dratted wizard will leave young Frodo alone, perhaps
he'll settle down and grow some hobbit-sense,' they said. And to all
appearance the wizard did leave Frodo alone, and he did settle down, but the
growth of hobbit-sense was not very noticeable. Indeed, he at once began to
carry on Bilbo's reputation for oddity. He refused to go into mourning; and
the next year he gave a party in honour of Bilbo's hundred-and-twelfth
birthday, which he called Hundred-weight Feast. But that was short of the
mark, for twenty guests were invited and there were several meals at which
it snowed food and rained drink, as hobbits say.
Some people were rather shocked; but Frodo kept up the custom of giving
Bilbo's Birthday Party year after year until they got used to it. He said
that he did not think Bilbo was dead. When they asked: 'Where is he then?'
he shrugged his shoulders.
He lived alone, as Bilbo had done; but he had a good many friends,
especially among the younger hobbits (mostly descendants of the Old Took)
who had as children been fond of Bilbo and often in and out of Bag End.
Folco Boffin and Fredegar Bolger were two of these; but his closest friends
were Peregrin Took (usually called Pippin), and Merry Brandybuck (his real
name was Meriadoc, but that was seldom remembered). Frodo went tramping
all
over the Shire with them; but more often he wandered by himself, and to the
amazement of sensible folk he was sometimes seen far from home walking in
the hills and woods under the starlight. Merry and Pippin suspected that he
visited the Elves at times, as Bilbo had done.
As time went on, people began to notice that Frodo also showed signs of
good 'preservation': outwardly he retained the appearance of a robust and
energetic hobbit just out of his tweens. 'Some folk have all the luck,' they
said; but it was not until Frodo approached the usually more sober age of
fifty that they began to think it queer.
Frodo himself, after the first shock, found that being his own master
and the Mr. Baggins of Bag End was rather pleasant. For some years he was
quite happy and did not worry much about the future. But half unknown to
himself the regret that he had not gone with Bilbo was steadily growing. He
found himself wondering at times, especially in the autumn, about the wild
lands, and strange visions of mountains that he had never seen came into his
dreams. He began to say to himself: 'Perhaps I shall cross the River myself
one day.' To which the other half of his mind always replied: 'Not yet.'
So it went on, until his forties were running out, and his fiftieth
birthday was drawing near: fifty was a number that he felt was somehow
significant (or ominous); it was at any rate at that age that adventure had
suddenly befallen Bilbo. Frodo began to feel restless, and the old paths
seemed too well-trodden. He looked at maps, and wondered what lay beyond
their edges: maps made in the Shire showed mostly white spaces beyond its
borders. He took to wandering further afield and more often by himself; and
Merry and his other friends watched him anxiously. Often he was seen walking
and talking with the strange wayfarers that began at this time to appear in
the Shire.
There were rumours of strange things happening in the world outside;
and as Gandalf had not at that time appeared or sent any message for several
years, Frodo gathered all the news he could. Elves, who seldom walked in the
Shire, could now be seen passing westward through the woods in the evening,
passing and not returning; but they were leaving Middle-earth and were no
longer concerned with its troubles. There were, however, dwarves on the road
in unusual numbers. The ancient East-West Road ran through the Shire to its
end at the Grey Havens, and dwarves had always used it on their way to their
mines in the Blue Mountains. They were the hobbits' chief source of news
from distant parts - if they wanted any: as a rule dwarves said little and
hobbits asked no more. But now Frodo often met strange dwarves of far
countries, seeking refuge in the West. They were troubled, and some spoke in
whispers of the Enemy and of the Land of Mordor.
That name the hobbits only knew in legends of the dark past, like a
shadow in the background of their memories; but it was ominous and
disquieting. It seemed that the evil power in Mirkwood had been driven out
by the White Council only to reappear in greater strength in the old
strongholds of Mordor. The Dark Tower had been rebuilt, it was said. From
there the power was spreading far and wide, and away far east and south
there were wars and growing fear. Orcs were multiplying again in the
mountains. Trolls were abroad, no longer dull-witted, but cunning and armed
with dreadful weapons. And there were murmured hints of creatures more
terrible than all these, but they had no name.
Little of all this, of course, reached the ears of ordinary hobbits.
But even the deafest and most stay-at-home began to hear queer tales; and
those whose business took them to the borders saw strange things. The
conversation in The Green Dragon at Bywater, one evening in the spring of
Frodo's fiftieth year, showed that even in the comfortable heart of the
Shire rumours had been heard, though most hobbits still laughed at them.
Sam Gamgee was sitting in one corner near the fire, and opposite him
was Ted Sandyman, the miller's son; and there were various other rustic
hobbits listening to their talk.
'Queer things you do hear these days, to be sure,' said Sam.
'Ah,' said Ted, 'you do, if you listen. But I can hear fireside-tales
and children's stories at home, if I want to.'
'No doubt you can,' retorted Sam, 'and I daresay there's more truth in
some of them than you reckon. Who invented the stories anyway? Take
dragons
now.'
'No thank 'ee,' said Ted, 'I won't. I heard tell of them when I was a
youngster, but there's no call to believe in them now. There's only one
Dragon in Bywater, and that's Green,' he said, getting a general laugh.
'All right,' said Sam, laughing with the rest. 'But what about these
Tree-men, these giants, as you might call them? They do say that one bigger
than a tree was seen up away beyond the North Moors not long back.'
'Who's they?'
'My cousin Hal for one. He works for Mr. Boffin at Overhill and goes up
to the Northfarthing for the hunting. He saw one.'
'Says he did, perhaps. Your Hal's always saying he's seen things; and
maybe he sees things that ain't there.'
'But this one was as big as an elm tree, and walking - walking seven
yards to a stride, if it was an inch.'
'Then I bet it wasn't an inch. What he saw was an elm tree, as like as
not.'
'But this one was walking, I tell you; and there ain't no elm tree on
the North Moors.'
'Then Hal can't have seen one,' said Ted. There was some laughing and
clapping: the audience seemed to think that Ted had scored a point.
'All the same,' said Sam, 'you can't deny that others besides our
Halfast have seen queer folk crossing the Shire - crossing it, mind you:
there are more that are turned back at the borders. The Bounders have never
been so busy before.
'And I've heard tell that Elves are moving west. They do say they are
going to the harbours, out away beyond the White Towers.' Sam waved his
arm
vaguely: neither he nor any of them knew how far it was to the Sea, past the
old towers beyond the western borders of the Shire. But it was an old
tradition that away over there stood the Grey Havens, from which at times
elven-ships set sail, never to return.
'They are sailing, sailing, sailing over the Sea, they are going into
the West and leaving us,' said Sam, half chanting the words, shaking his
head sadly and solemnly. But Ted laughed.
'Well, that isn't anything new, if you believe the old tales. And I
don't see what it matters to me or you. Let them sail! But I warrant you
haven't seen them doing it; nor any one else in the Shire.'
'Well I don't know,' said Sam thoughtfully. He believed he had once
seen an Elf in the woods, and still hoped to see more one day. Of all the
legends that he had heard in his early years such fragments of tales and
half-remembered stories about the Elves as the hobbits knew, had always
moved him most deeply. 'There are some, even in these parts, as know the
Fair Folk and get news of them,' he said. 'There's Mr. Baggins now, that I
work for. He told me that they were sailing and he knows a bit about Elves.
And old Mr. Bilbo knew more: many's the talk I had with him when I was a
little lad.'
'Oh, they're both cracked,' said Ted. 'Leastways old Bilbo was cracked,
and Frodo's cracking. If that's where you get your news from, you'll never
want for moonshine. Well, friends, I'm off home. Your good health!' He
drained his mug and went out noisily.
Sam sat silent and said no more. He had a good deal to think about. For
one thing, there was a lot to do up in the Bag End garden, and he would have
a busy day tomorrow, if the weather cleared. The grass was growing fast. But
Sam had more on his mind than gardening. After a while he sighed, and got up
and went out.
It was early April and the sky was now clearing after heavy rain. The
sun was down, and a cool pale evening was quietly fading into night. He
walked home under the early stars through Hobbiton and up the Hill,
whistling softly and thoughtfully.
It was just at this time that Gandalf reappeared after his long
absence. For three years after the Party he had been away. Then he paid
Frodo a brief visit, and after taking a good look at him he went off again.
During the next year or two he had turned up fairly often, coming
unexpectedly after dusk, and going off without warning before sunrise. He
would not discuss his own business and journeys, and seemed chiefly
interested in small news about Frodo's health and doings.
Then suddenly his visits had ceased. It was over nine years since Frodo
had seen or heard of him, and he had begun to think that the wizard would
never return and had given up all interest in hobbits. But that evening, as
Sam was walking home and twilight was fading, there came the once familiar
tap on the study window.
Frodo welcomed his old friend with surprise and great delight. They
looked hard at one another.
'Ah well eh?' said Gandalf. 'You look the same as ever, Frodo!'
'So do you,' Frodo replied; but secretly he thought that Gandalf looked
older and more careworn. He pressed him for news of himself and of the wide
world, and soon they were deep in talk, and they stayed up far into the
night.
Next morning after a late breakfast, the wizard was sitting with Frodo
by the open window of the study. A bright fire was on the hearth, but the
sun was warm, and the wind was in the South. Everything looked fresh, and
the new green of Spring was shimmering in the fields and on the tips of the
trees' fingers.
Gandalf was thinking of a spring, nearly eighty years before, when
Bilbo had run out of Bag End without a handkerchief. His hair was perhaps
whiter than it had been then, and his beard and eyebrows were perhaps
longer, and his face more lined with care and wisdom; but his eyes were as
bright as ever, and he smoked and blew smoke-rings with the same vigour and
delight.
He was smoking now in silence, for Frodo was sitting still, deep in
thought. Even in the light of morning he felt the dark shadow of the tidings
that Gandalf had brought. At last he broke the silence.
'Last night you began to tell me strange things about my ring,
Gandalf,' he said. 'And then you stopped, because you said that such matters
were best left until daylight. Don't you think you had better finish now?
You say the ring is dangerous, far more dangerous than I guess. In what
way?'
'In many ways,' answered the wizard. It is far more powerful than I
ever dared to think at first, so powerful that in the end it would utterly
overcome anyone of mortal race who possessed it. It would possess him.
'In Eregion long ago many Elven-rings were made, magic rings as you
call them, and they were, of course, of various kinds: some more potent and
some less. The lesser rings were only essays in the craft before it was
full-grown, and to the Elven-smiths they were but trifles - yet still to my
mind dangerous for mortals. But the Great Rings, the Rings of Power, they
were perilous.
'A mortal, Frodo, who keeps one of the Great Rings, does not die, but
he does not grow or obtain more life, he merely continues, until at last
every minute is a weariness. And if he often uses the Ring to make himself
invisible, he fades: he becomes in the end invisible permanently, and walks
in the twilight under the eye of the dark power that rules the Rings. Yes,
sooner or later - later, if he is strong or well-meaning to begin with, but
neither strength nor good purpose will last - sooner or later the dark power
will devour him.'
'How terrifying!' said Frodo. There was another long silence. The sound
of Sam Gamgee cutting the lawn came in from the garden.
'How long have you known this?' asked Frodo at length. 'And how much
did Bilbo know?'
'Bilbo knew no more than he told you, I am sure,' said Gandalf. 'He
would certainly never have passed on to you anything that he thought would
be a danger, even though I promised to look after you. He thought the ring
was very beautiful, and very useful at need; and if anything was wrong or
queer, it was himself. He said that it was "growing on his mind", and he was
always worrying about it; but he did not suspect that the ring itself was to
blame. Though he had found out that the thing needed looking after; it did
not seem always of the same size or weight; it shrank or expanded in an odd
way, and might suddenly slip off a finger where it had been tight.'
'Yes, he warned me of that in his last letter,' said Frodo, 'so I have
always kept it on its chain.'
'Very wise,' said Gandalf. 'But as for his long life, Bilbo never
connected it with the ring at all. He took all the credit for that to
himself, and he was very proud of it. Though he was getting restless and
uneasy. Thin and stretched he said. A sign that the ring was getting
control.'
'How long have you known all this?' asked Frodo again.
'Known?' said Gandalf. 'I have known much that only the Wise know,
Frodo. But if you mean "known about this ring", well, I still do not know,
one might say. There is a last test to make. But I no longer doubt my guess.
'When did I first begin to guess?' he mused, searching back in memory.
'Let me see - it was in the year that the White Council drove the dark power
from Mirkwood, just before the Battle of Five Armies, that Bilbo found his
ring. A shadow fell on my heart then, though I did not know yet what I
feared. I wondered often how Gollum came by a Great Ring, as plainly it was
- that at least was clear from the first. Then I heard Bilbo's strange story
of how he had "won" it, and I could not believe it. When I at last got the
truth out of him, I saw at once that he had been trying to put his claim to
the ring beyond doubt. Much like Gollum with his "birthday present". The
lies were too much alike for my comfort. Clearly the ring had an unwholesome
power that set to work on its keeper at once. That was the first real
warning I had that all was not well. I told Bilbo often that such rings were
better left unused; but he resented it, and soon got angry. There was little
else that I could do. I could not take it from him without doing greater
harm; and I had no right to do so anyway. I could only watch and wait. I
might perhaps have consulted Saruman the White, but something always held
me
back.'
'Who is he?' asked Frodo. I have never heard of him before.'
'Maybe not,' answered Gandalf. 'Hobbits are, or were, no concern of
his. Yet he is great among the Wise. He is the chief of my order and the
head of the Council. His knowledge is deep, but his pride has grown with it,
and he takes ill any meddling. The lore of the Elven-rings, great and small,
is his province. He has long studied it, seeking the lost secrets of their
making; but when the Rings were debated in the Council, all that he would
reveal to us of his ring-lore told against my fears. So my doubt slept - but
uneasily. Still I watched and I waited.
'And all seemed well with Bilbo. And the years passed. Yes, they
passed, and they seemed not to touch him. He showed no signs of age. The
shadow fell on me again. But I said to myself: "After all he comes of a
long-lived family on his mother's side. There is time yet. Wait!"
'And I waited. Until that night when he left this house. He said and
did things then that filled me with a fear that no words of Saruman could
allay. I knew at last that something dark and deadly was at work. And I have
spent most of the years since then in finding out the truth of it.'
'There wasn't any permanent harm done, was there?' asked Frodo
anxiously. 'He would get all right in time, wouldn't he? Be able to rest in
peace, I mean?'
'He felt better at once,' said Gandalf. 'But there is only one Power in
this world that knows all about the Rings and their effects; and as far as I
know there is no Power in the world that knows all about hobbits. Among the
Wise I am the only one that goes in for hobbit-lore: an obscure branch of
knowledge, but full of surprises. Soft as butter they can be, and yet
sometimes as tough as old tree-roots. I think it likely that some would
resist the Rings far longer than most of the Wise would believe. I don't
think you need worry about Bilbo.
'Of course, he possessed the ring for many years, and used it, so it
might take a long while for the influence to wear off - before it was safe
for him to see it again, for instance. Otherwise, he might live on for
years, quite happily: just stop as he was when he parted with it. For he
gave it up in the end of his own accord: an important point. No, I was not
troubled about dear Bilbo any more, once he had let the thing go. It is for
you that I feel responsible.
'Ever since Bilbo left I have been deeply concerned about you, and
about all these charming, absurd, helpless hobbits. It would be a grievous
blow to the world, if the Dark Power overcame the Shire; if all your kind,
jolly, stupid Bolgers, Hornblowers, Boffins, Bracegirdles, and the rest, not
to mention the ridiculous Bagginses, became enslaved.'
Frodo shuddered. 'But why should we be?' he asked. 'And why should he
want such slaves?'
'To tell you the truth,' replied Gandalf, 'I believe that hitherto -
hitherto, mark you - he has entirely overlooked the existence of hobbits.
You should be thankful. But your safety has passed. He does not need you -
he has many more useful servants - but he won't forget you again. And
hobbits as miserable slaves would please him far more than hobbits happy and
free. There is such a thing as malice and revenge.'
'Revenge?' said Frodo. 'Revenge for what? I still don't understand what
all this has to do with Bilbo and myself, and our ring.'
'It has everything to do with it,' said Gandalf. 'You do not know the
real peril yet; but you shall. I was not sure of it myself when I was last
here; but the time has come to speak. Give me the ring for a moment.'
Frodo took it from his breeches-pocket, where it was clasped to a chain
that hung from his belt. He unfastened it and handed it slowly to the
wizard. It felt suddenly very heavy, as if either it or Frodo himself was in
some way reluctant for Gandalf to touch it.
Gandalf held it up. It looked to be made of pure and solid gold. 'Can
you see any markings on it?' he asked.
'No,' said Frodo. 'There are none. It is quite plain, and it never
shows a scratch or sign of wear.'
'Well then, look!' To Frodo's astonishment and distress the wizard
threw it suddenly into the middle of a glowing corner of the fire. Frodo
gave a cry and groped for the tongs; but Gandalf held him back.
'Wait!' he said in a commanding voice, giving Frodo a quick look from
under his bristling brows.
No apparent change came over the ring. After a while Gandalf got up,
closed the shutters outside the window, and drew the curtains. The room
became dark and silent, though the clack of Sam's shears, now nearer to the
windows, could still be heard faintly from the garden. For a moment the
wizard stood looking at the fire; then he stooped and removed the ring to
the hearth with the tongs, and at once picked it up. Frodo gasped.
It is quite cool,' said Gandalf. 'Take it!' Frodo received it on his
shrinking palm: it seemed to have become thicker and heavier than ever.
'Hold it up!' said Gandalf. 'And look closely!'
As Frodo did so, he now saw fine lines, finer than the finest
pen-strokes, running along the ring, outside and inside: lines of fire that
seemed to form the letters of a flowing script. They shone piercingly
bright, and yet remote, as if out of a great depth.
I cannot read the fiery letters,' said Frodo in a quavering voice.
'No,' said Gandalf, 'but I can. The letters are Elvish, of an ancient
mode, but the language is that of Mordor, which I will not utter here. But
this in the Common Tongue is what is said, close enough:
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.
It is only two lines of a verse long known in Elven-lore:
Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all. One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.'
He paused, and then said slowly in a deep voice: 'This is the
Master-ring, the One Ring to rule them all. This is the One Ring that he
lost many ages ago, to the great weakening of his power. He greatly desires
it - but he must not get it.'
Frodo sat silent and motionless. Fear seemed to stretch out a vast
hand, like a dark cloud rising in the East and looming up to engulf him.
'This ring!' he stammered. 'How, how on earth did it come to me?'
'Ah!' said Gandalf. 'That is a very long story. The beginnings lie back
in the Black Years, which only the lore-masters now remember. If I were to
tell you all that tale, we should still be sitting here when Spring had
passed into Winter.
'But last night I told you of Sauron the Great, the Dark Lord. The
rumours that you have heard are true: he has indeed arisen again and left
his hold in Mirkwood and returned to his ancient fastness in the Dark Tower
of Mordor. That name even you hobbits have heard of, like a shadow on the
borders of old stories. Always after a defeat and a respite, the Shadow
takes another shape and grows again.'
'I wish it need not have happened in my time,' said Frodo.
'So do I,' said Gandalf, 'and so do all who live to see such times. But
that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the
time that is given, us. And already, Frodo, our time is beginning to look
black. The Enemy is fast becoming very strong. His plans are far from ripe,
I think, but they are ripening. We shall be hard put to it. We should be
very hard put to it, even if it were not for this dreadful chance.
'The Enemy still lacks one thing to give him strength and knowledge to
beat down all resistance, break the last defences, and cover all the lands
in a second darkness. He lacks the One Ring.
'The Three, fairest of all, the Elf-lords hid from him, and his hand
never touched them or sullied them. Seven the Dwarf-kings possessed, but
three he has recovered, and the others the dragons have consumed. Nine he
gave to Mortal Men, proud and great, and so ensnared them. Long ago they
fell under the dominion of the One, and they became Ringwraiths, shadows
under his great Shadow, his most terrible servants. Long ago. It is many a
year since the Nine walked abroad. Yet who knows? As the Shadow grows
once
more, they too may walk again. But come! We will not speak of such things
even in the morning of the Shire.
'So it is now: the Nine he has gathered to himself; the Seven also, or
else they are destroyed. The Three are hidden still. But that no longer
troubles him. He only needs the One; for he made that Ring himself, it is
his, and he let a great part of his own former power pass into it, so that
he could rule all the others. If he recovers it, then he will command them
all again, wherever they be, even the Three, and all that has been wrought
with them will be laid bare, and he will be stronger than ever.
'And this is the dreadful chance, Frodo. He believed that the One had
perished; that the Elves had destroyed it, as should have been done. But he
knows now that it has not perished, that it has been found. So he is seeking
it, seeking it, and all his thought is bent on it. It is his great hope and
our great fear.'
'Why, why wasn't it destroyed?' cried Frodo. 'And how did the Enemy
ever come to lose it, if he was so strong, and it was so precious to him?'
He clutched the Ring in his hand, as if he saw already dark fingers
stretching out to seize it.
'It was taken from him,' said Gandalf. 'The strength of the Elves to
resist him was greater long ago; and not all Men were estranged from them.
The Men of Westernesse came to their aid. That is a chapter of ancient
history which it might be good to recall; for there was sorrow then too, and
gathering dark, but great valour, and great deeds that were not wholly vain.
One day, perhaps, I will tell you all the tale, or you shall hear it told in
full by one who knows it best.
'But for the moment, since most of all you need to know how this thing
came to you, and that will be tale enough, this is all that I will say. It
was Gil-galad, Elven-king and Elendil of Westernesse who overthrew Sauron,
though they themselves perished in the deed; and Isildur Elendil's son cut
the Ring from Sauron's hand and took it for his own. Then Sauron was
vanquished and his spirit fled and was hidden for long years, until his
shadow took shape again in Mirkwood.
'But the Ring was lost. It fell into the Great River, Anduin, and
vanished. For Isildur was marching north along the east banks of the River,
and near the Gladden Fields he was waylaid by the Orcs of the Mountains, and
almost all his folk were slain. He leaped into the waters, but the Ring
slipped from his finger as he swam, and then the Orcs saw him and killed him
with arrows.'
Gandalf paused. 'And there in the dark pools amid the Gladden Fields,'
he said, 'the Ring passed out of knowledge and legend; and even so much of
its history is known now only to a few, and the Council of the Wise could
discover no more. But at last I can carry on the story, I think.
'Long after, but still very long ago, there lived by the banks of the
Great River on the edge of Wilderland a clever-handed and quiet-footed
little people. I guess they were of hobbit-kind; akin to the fathers of the
fathers of the Stoors, for they loved the River, and often swam in it, or
made little boats of reeds. There was among them a family of high repute,
for it was large and wealthier than most, and it was ruled by a grandmother
of the folk, stern and wise in old lore, such as they had. The most
inquisitive and curious-minded of that family was called Smjagol. He was
interested in roots and beginnings; he dived into deep pools; he burrowed
under trees and growing plants; he tunnelled into green mounds; and he
ceased to look up at the hill-tops, or the leaves on trees, or the flowers
opening in the air: his head and his eyes were downward.
'He had a friend called Djagol, of similar sort, sharper-eyed but not
so quick and strong. On a time they took a boat and went down to the Gladden
Fields, where there were great beds of iris and flowering reeds. There
Smjagol got out and went nosing about the banks but Deal sat in the boat and
fished. Suddenly a great fish took his hook, and before he knew where he
was, he was dragged out and down into the water, to the bottom. Then he let
go of his line, for he thought he saw something shining in the river-bed;
and holding his breath he grabbed at it.
'Then up he came spluttering, with weeds in his hair and a handful of
mud; and he swam to the bank. And behold! when he washed the mud away,
there
in his hand lay a beautiful golden ring; and it shone and glittered in the
sun, so that his heart was glad. But Smjagol had been watching him from
behind a tree, and as Deal gloated over the ring, Smjagol came softly up
behind.
'"Give us that, Deal, my love," said Smjagol, over his friend's
shoulder.
'"Why?" said Deal.
' "Because it's my birthday, my love, and I wants it," said Smjagol.
'"I don't care," said Deal. "I have given you a present already, more
than I could afford. I found this, and I'm going to keep it."
' "Oh, are you indeed, my love," said Smjagol; and he caught Deal by
the throat and strangled him, because the gold looked so bright and
beautiful. Then he put the ring on his finger.
'No one ever found out what had become of Deal; he was murdered far
from home, and his body was cunningly hidden. But Smjagol returned alone;
and he found that none of his family could see him, when he was wearing the
ring. He was very pleased with his discovery and he concealed it; and he
used it to find out secrets, and he put his knowledge to crooked and
malicious uses. He became sharp-eyed and keen-eared for all that was
hurtful. The ring had given him power according to his stature. It is not to
be wondered at that he became very unpopular and was shunned (when
visible)
by all his relations. They kicked him, and he bit their feet. He took to
thieving, and going about muttering to himself, and gurgling in his throat.
So they called him Gollum, and cursed him, and told him to go far away; and
his grandmother, desiring peace, expelled him from the family and turned him
out of her hole.
'He wandered in loneliness, weeping a little for the hardness of the
world, and he journeyed up the River, till he came to a stream that flowed
down from the mountains, and he went that way. He caught fish in deep pools
with invisible fingers and ate them raw. One day it was very hot, and as he
was bending over a pool, he felt a burning on the back of his head) and a
dazzling light from the water pained his wet eyes. He wondered at it, for he
had almost forgotten about the Sun. Then for the last time he looked up and
shook his fist at her.
'But as he lowered his eyes, he saw far above the tops of the Misty
Mountains, out of which the stream came. And he thought suddenly: "It would
be cool and shady under those mountains. The Sun could not watch me there.
The roots of those mountains must be roots indeed; there must be great
secrets buried there which have not been discovered since the beginning."
'So he journeyed by night up into the highlands, and he found a little
cave out of which the dark stream ran; and he wormed his way like a maggot
into the heart of the hills, and vanished out of all knowledge. The Ring
went into the shadows with him, and even the maker, when his power had
begun
to grow again, could learn nothing of it.'
'Gollum!' cried Frodo. 'Gollum? Do you mean that this is the very
Gollum-creature that Bilbo met? How loathsome!'
'I think it is a sad story,' said the wizard, 'and it might have
happened to others, even to some hobbits that I have known.'
'I can't believe that Gollum was connected with hobbits, however
distantly,' said Frodo with some heat. 'What an abominable notion!'
'It is true all the same,' replied Gandalf. 'About their origins, at
any rate, I know more than hobbits do themselves. And even Bilbo's story
suggests the kinship. There was a great deal in the background of their
minds and memories that was very similar. They understood one another
remarkably well, very much better than a hobbit would understand, say, a
Dwarf, or an Orc, or even an Elf. Think of the riddles they both knew, for
one thing.'
'Yes,' said Frodo. 'Though other folks besides hobbits ask riddles, and
of much the same sort. And hobbits don't cheat. Gollum meant to cheat all
the time. He was just trying to put poor Bilbo off his guard. And I daresay
it amused his wickedness to start a game which might end in providing him
with an easy victim, but if he lost would not hurt him.'
'Only too true, I fear,' said Gandalf. 'But there was something else in
it, I think, which you don't see yet. Even Gollum was not wholly ruined. He
had proved tougher than even one of the Wise would have guessed -as a hobbit
might. There was a little corner of his mind that was still his own, and
light came through it, as through a chink in the dark: light out of the
past. It was actually pleasant, I think, to hear a kindly voice again,
bringing up memories of wind, and trees, and sun on the grass, and such
forgotten things.
'But that, of course, would only make the evil part of him angrier in
the end - unless it could be conquered. Unless it could be cured.' Gandalf
sighed. 'Alas! there is little hope of that for him. Yet not no hope. No,
not though he possessed the Ring so long, almost as far back as he can
remember. For it was long since he had worn it much: in the black darkness
it was seldom needed. Certainly he had never "faded". He is thin and tough
still. But the thing was eating up his mind, of course, and the torment had
become almost unbearable.
'All the "great secrets" under the mountains had turned out to be just
empty night: there was nothing more to find out, nothing worth doing, only
nasty furtive eating and resentful remembering. He was altogether wretched.
He hated the dark, and he hated light more: he hated everything, and the
Ring most of all.'
'What do you mean?' said Frodo. 'Surely the Ring was his precious and
the only thing he cared for? But if he hated it, why didn't he get rid of
it, or go away and leave it?'
'You ought to begin to understand, Frodo, after all you have heard,'
said Gandalf. 'He hated it and loved it, as he hated and loved himself. He
could not get rid of it. He had no will left in the matter.
'A Ring of Power looks after itself, Frodo. It may slip off
treacherously, but its keeper never abandons it. At most he plays with the
idea of handing it on to someone else's care - and that only at an early
stage, when it first begins to grip. But as far as I know Bilbo alone in
history has ever gone beyond playing, and really done it. He needed all my
help, too. And even so he would never have just forsaken it, or cast it
aside. It was not Gollum, Frodo, but the Ring itself that decided things.
The Ring left him.'
'What, just in time to meet Bilbo?' said Frodo. 'Wouldn't an Orc have
suited it better?'
'It is no laughing matter,' said Gandalf. 'Not for you. It was the
strangest event in the whole history of the Ring so far: Bilbo's arrival
just at that time, and putting his hand on it, blindly, in the dark.
'There was more than one power at work, Frodo. The Ring was trying to
get back to its master. It had slipped from Isildur's hand and betrayed him;
then when a chance came it caught poor Deal, and he was murdered; and after
that Gollum, and it had devoured him. It could make no further use of him:
he was too small and mean; and as long as it stayed with him he would never
leave his deep pool again. So now, when its master was awake once more and
sending out his dark thought from Mirkwood, it abandoned Gollum. Only to
be
picked up by the most unlikely person imaginable: Bilbo from the Shire!
'Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the
Ring-maker. I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to
find the Ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to
have it. And that maybe an encouraging thought.'
It is not,' said Frodo. "Though I am not sure that I understand you.
But how have you learned all this about the Ring, and about Gollum? Do you
really know it all, or are you just guessing still?'
Gandalf looked at Frodo, and his eyes glinted. I knew much and I have
learned much,' he answered. 'But I am not going to give an account of all my
doings to you. The history of Elendil and Isildur and the One Ring is known
to all the Wise. Your ring is shown to be that One Ring by the fire-writing
alone, apart from any other evidence.' 'And when did you discover that?'
asked Frodo, interrupting. 'Just now in this room, of course,' answered the
wizard sharply. 'But I expected to find it. I have come back from dark
journeys and long search to make that final test. It is the last proof, and
all is now only too clear. Making out Gollum's part, and fitting it into the
gap in the history, required some thought. I may have started with guesses
about Gollum, but I am not guessing now. I know. I have seen him.'
'You have seen Gollum?' exclaimed Frodo in amazement.
'Yes. The obvious thing to do, of course, if one could. I tried long
ago; but I have managed it at last.'
'Then what happened after Bilbo escaped from him? Do you know that?'
'Not so clearly. What I have told you is what Gollum was willing to
tell - though not, of course, in the way I have reported it. Gollum is a
liar, and you have to sift his words. For instance, he called the Ring his
"birthday present", and he stuck to that. He said it came from his
grandmother, who had lots of beautiful things of that kind. A ridiculous
story. I have no doubt that Smjagol's grandmother was a matriarch, a great
person in her way, but to talk of her possessing many Elven-rings was
absurd, and as for giving them away, it was a lie. But a lie with a grain of
truth.
'The murder of Deal haunted Gollum, and he had made up a defence,
repeating it to his "precious" over and over again, as he gnawed bones in
the dark, until he almost believed it. It was his birthday. Deal ought to
have given the ring to him. It had previously turned up just so as to be a
present. It was his birthday present, and so on, and on.
I endured him as long as I could, but the truth was desperately
important, and in the end I had to be harsh. I put the fear of fire on him,
and wrung the true story out of him, bit by bit, together with much
snivelling and snarling. He thought he was misunderstood and ill-used. But
when he had at last told me his history, as far as the end of the
Riddle-game and Bilbo's escape, he would not say any more, except in dark
hints. Some other fear was on him greater than mine. He muttered that he was
going to gel his own back. People would see if he would stand being kicked,
and driven into a hole and then robbed. Gollum had good friends now, good
friends and very strong. They would help him. Baggins would pay for it. That
was his chief thought. He hated Bilbo and cursed his name. What is more, he
knew where he came from.'
'But how did he find that out?' asked Frodo.
'Well, as for the name, Bilbo very foolishly told Gollum himself; and
after that it would not be difficult to discover his country, once Gollum
came out. Oh yes, he came out. His longing for the Ring proved stronger than
his fear of the Orcs, or even of the light. After a year or two he left the
mountains. You see, though still bound by desire of it, the Ring was no
longer devouring him; he began to revive a little. He felt old, terribly
old, yet less timid, and he was mortally hungry.
'Light, light of Sun and Moon, he still feared and hated, and he always
will, I think; but he was cunning. He found he could hide from daylight and
moonshine, and make his way swiftly and softly by dead of night with his
pale cold eyes, and catch small frightened or unwary things. He grew
stronger and bolder with new food and new air. He found his way into
Mirkwood, as one would expect.'
'Is that where you found him?' asked Frodo.
'I saw him there,' answered Gandalf, 'but before that he had wandered
far, following Bilbo's trail. It was difficult to learn anything from him
for certain, for his talk was constantly interrupted by curses and threats.
"What had it got in its pocketses?" he said. "It wouldn't say, no precious.
Little cheat. Not a fair question. It cheated first, it did. It broke the
rules. We ought to have squeezed it, yes precious. And we will, precious!"
'That is a sample of his talk. I don't suppose you want any more. I had
weary days of it. But from hints dropped among the snarls I even gathered
that his padding feet had taken him at last to Esgaroth, and even to the
streets of Dale, listening secretly and peering. Well, the news of the great
events went far and wide in Wilderland, and many had heard Bilbo's name and
knew where he came from. We had made no secret of our return journey to his
home in the West. Gollum's sharp ears would soon learn what he wanted.'
'Then why didn't he track Bilbo further?' asked Frodo. 'Why didn't he
come to the Shire?'
'Ah,' said Gandalf, 'now we come to it. I think Gollum tried to. He set
out and came back westward, as far as the Great River. But then he turned
aside. He was not daunted by the distance, I am sure. No, something else
drew him away. So my friends think, those that hunted him for me.
'The Wood-elves tracked him first, an easy task for them, for his trail
was still fresh then. Through Mirkwood and back again it led them, though
they never caught him. The wood was full of the rumour of him, dreadful
tales even among beasts and birds. The Woodmen said that there was some
new
terror abroad, a ghost that drank blood. It climbed trees to find nests; it
crept into holes to find the young; it slipped through windows to find
cradles.
'But at the western edge of Mirkwood the trail turned away. It wandered
off southwards and passed out of the Wood-elves' ken, and was lost. And then
I made a great mistake. Yes, Frodo, and not the first; though I fear it may
prove the worst. I let the matter be. I let him go; for I had much else to
think of at that time, and I still trusted the lore of Saruman.
'Well, that was years ago. I have paid for it since with many dark and
dangerous days. The trail was long cold when I took it up again, after Bilbo
left here. And my search would have been in vain, but for the help that I
had from a friend: Aragorn, the greatest traveller and huntsman of this age
of the world. Together we sought for Gollum down the whole length of
Wilderland, without hope, and without success. But at last, when I had given
up the chase and turned to other parts, Gollum was found. My friend returned
out of the great perils bringing the miserable creature with him.
'What he had been doing he would not say. He only wept and called us
cruel, with many a gollum in his throat; and when we pressed him he whined
and cringed, and rubbed his long hands, licking his fingers as if they
pained him, as if he remembered some old torture. But I am afraid there is
no possible doubt: he had made his slow, sneaking way, step by step, mile by
mile, south, down at last to the Land of Mordor.'
A heavy silence fell in the room. Frodo could hear his heart beating.
Even outside everything seemed still. No sound of Sam's shears could now be
heard.
'Yes, to Mordor,' said Gandalf. 'Alas! Mordor draws all wicked things,
and the Dark Power was bending all its will to gather them there. The Ring
of the Enemy would leave its mark, too, leave him open to the summons. And
all folk were whispering then of the new Shadow in the South, and its hatred
of the West. There were his fine new friends, who would help him in his
revenge!
'Wretched fool! In that land he would learn much, too much for his
comfort. And sooner or later as he lurked and pried on the borders he would
be caught, and taken - for examination. That was the way of it, I fear. When
he was found he had already been there long, and was on his way back. On
some errand of mischief. But that does not matter much now. His worst
mischief was done.
'Yes, alas! through him the Enemy has learned that the One has been
found again. He knows where Isildur fell. He knows where Gollum found his
ring. He knows that it is a Great Ring, for it gave long life. He knows that
it is not one of the Three, for they have never been lost, and they endure
no evil. He knows that it is not one of the Seven, or the Nine, for they are
accounted for. He knows that it is the One. And he has at last heard, I
think, of hobbits and the Shire.
'The Shire - he may be seeking for it now, if he has not already found
out where it lies. Indeed, Frodo, I fear that he may even think that the
long-unnoticed name of Baggins has become important.'
'But this is terrible!' cried Frodo. 'Far worse than the worst that I
imagined from your hints and warnings. O Gandalf, best of friends, what am I
to do? For now I am really afraid. What am I to do? What a pity that Bilbo
did not stab that vile creature, when he had a chance!'
'Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike
without need. And he has been well rewarded, Frodo. Be sure that he took so
little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his
ownership of the Ring so. With Pity.'
'I am sorry,' said Frodo. 'But I am frightened; and I do not feel any
pity for Gollum.'
'You have not seen him,' Gandalf broke in.
'No, and I don't want to,' said Frodo. I can't understand you. Do you
mean to say that you, and the Elves, have let him live on after all those
horrible deeds? Now at any rate he is as bad as an Orc, and just an enemy.
He deserves death.'
'Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some
that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to
deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends. I
have not much hope that Gollum can be cured before he dies, but there is a
chance of it. And he is bound up with the fate of the Ring. My heart tells
me that he has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before the end; and
when that comes, the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many - yours not
least. In any case we did not kill him: he is very old and very wretched.
The Wood-elves have him in prison, but they treat him with such kindness as
they can find in their wise hearts.'
'All the same,' said Frodo, 'even if Bilbo could not kill Gollum, I
wish he had not kept the Ring. I wish he had never found it, and that I had
not got it! Why did you let me keep it? Why didn't you make me throw it
away, or, or destroy it?'
'Let you? Make you?' said the wizard. 'Haven't you been listening to
all that I have said? You are not thinking of what you are saying. But as
for throwing it away, that was obviously wrong. These Rings have a way of
being found. In evil hands it might have done great evil. Worst of all, it
might have fallen into the hands of the Enemy. Indeed it certainly would;
for this is the One, and he is exerting all his power to find it or draw it
to himself.
'Of course, my dear Frodo, it was dangerous for you; and that has
troubled me deeply. But there was so much at stake that I had to take some
risk - though even when I was far away there has never been a day when the
Shire has not been guarded by watchful eyes. As long as you never used it, I
did not think that the Ring would have any lasting effect on you, not for
evil, not at any rate for a very long time. And you must remember that nine
years ago, when I last saw you, I still knew little for certain.'
'But why not destroy it, as you say should have been done long ago?'
cried Frodo again. If you had warned me, or even sent me a message, I would
have done away with it.'
'Would you? How would you do that? Have you ever tried?'
'No. But I suppose one could hammer it or melt it.'
'Try!' said Gandalf. Try now!'
Frodo drew the Ring out of his pocket again and looked at it. It now
appeared plain and smooth, without mark or device that he could see. The
gold looked very fair and pure, and Frodo thought how rich and beautiful was
its colour, how perfect was its roundness. It was an admirable thing and
altogether precious. When he took it out he had intended to fling it from
him into the very hottest part of the fire. But he found now that he could
not do so, not without a great struggle. He weighed the Ring in his hand,
hesitating, and forcing himself to remember all that Gandalf had told him;
and then with an effort of will he made a movement, as if to cast it away -
but he found that he had put it back in his pocket.
Gandalf laughed grimly. 'You see? Already you too, Frodo, cannot easily
let it go, nor will to damage it. And I could not "make" you - except by
force, which would break your mind. But as for breaking the Ring, force is
useless. Even if you took it and struck it with a heavy sledge-hammer, it
would make no dint in it. It cannot be unmade by your hands, or by mine.
'Your small fire, of course, would not melt even ordinary gold. This
Ring has already passed through it unscathed, and even unheated. But there
is no smith's forge in this Shire that could change it at all. Not even the
anvils and furnaces of the Dwarves could do that. It has been said that
dragon-fire could melt and consume the Rings of Power, but there is not now
any dragon left on earth in which the old fire is hot enough; nor was there
ever any dragon, not even Ancalagon the Black, who could have harmed the
One
Ring, the Ruling Ring, for that was made by Sauron himself. There is only
one way: to find the Cracks of Doom in the depths of Orodruin, the
Fire-mountain, and cast the Ring in there, if you really wish to destroy it,
to put it beyond the grasp of the Enemy for ever.'
'I do really wish to destroy it!' cried Frodo. 'Or, well, to have it
destroyed. I am not made for perilous quests. I wish I had never seen the
Ring! Why did it come to me? Why was I chosen?'
'Such questions cannot be answered,' said Gandalf. 'You may be sure
that it was not for any merit that others do not possess: not for power or
wisdom, at any rate. But you have been chosen, and you must therefore use
such strength and heart and wits as you have.'
'But I have so little of any of these things! You are wise and
powerful. Will you not take the Ring?'
'No!' cried Gandalf, springing to his feet. 'With that power I should
have power too great and terrible. And over me the Ring would gain a power
still greater and more deadly.' His eyes flashed and his face was lit as by
a fire within. 'Do not tempt me! For I do not wish to become like the Dark
Lord himself. Yet the way of the Ring to my heart is by pity, pity for
weakness and the desire of strength to do good. Do not tempt me! I dare not
take it, not even to keep it safe, unused. The wish to wield it would be too
great, for my strength. I shall have such need of it. Great perils lie
before me.'
He went to the window and drew aside the curtains and the shutters.
Sunlight streamed back again into the room. Sam passed along the path
outside whistling. 'And now,' said the wizard, turning back to Frodo, 'the
decision lies with you. But I will always help you.' He laid his hand on
Frodo's shoulder. 'I will help you bear this burden, as long as It is yours
to bear. But we must do something, soon. The Enemy is moving.'
There was a long silence. Gandalf sat down again and puffed at his
pipe, as if lost in thought. His eyes seemed closed, but under the lids he
was watching Frodo intently. Frodo gazed fixedly at the red embers on the
hearth, until they filled all his vision, and he seemed to be looking down
into profound wells of fire. He was thinking of the fabled Cracks of Doom
and the terror of the Fiery Mountain.
'Well!' said Gandalf at last. 'What are you thinking about? Have you
decided what to do?'
'No!' answered Frodo, coming back to himself out of darkness, and
finding to his surprise that it was not dark, and that out of the window he
could see the sunlit garden. 'Or perhaps, yes. As far as I understand what
you have said, I suppose I must keep the Ring and guard it, at least for the
present, whatever it may do to me.'
'Whatever it may do, it will be slow, slow to evil, if you keep it with
that purpose,' said Gandalf.
'I hope so,' said Frodo. 'But I hope that you may find some other
better keeper soon. But in the meanwhile it seems that I am a danger, a
danger to all that live near me. I cannot keep the Ring and stay here. I
ought to leave Bag End, leave the Shire, leave everything and go away.' He
sighed.
'I should like to save the Shire, if I could - though there have been
times when I thought the inhabitants too stupid and dull for words, and have
felt that an earthquake or an invasion of dragons might be good for them.
But I don't feel like that now. I feel that as long as the Shire lies
behind, safe and comfortable, I shall find wandering more bearable: I shall
know that somewhere there is a firm foothold, even if my feet cannot stand
there again.
'Of course, I have sometimes thought of going away, but I imagined that
as a kind of holiday, a series of adventures like Bilbo's or better, ending
in peace. But this would mean exile, a flight from danger into danger,
drawing it after me. And I suppose I must go alone, if I am to do that and
save the Shire. But I feel very small, and very uprooted, and well -
desperate. The Enemy is so strong and terrible.'
He did not tell Gandalf, but as he was speaking a great desire to
follow Bilbo flamed up in his heart - to follow Bilbo, and even perhaps to
find him again. It was so strong that it overcame his fear: he could almost
have run out there and then down the road without his hat, as Bilbo had done
on a similar morning long ago.
'My dear Frodo!' exclaimed Gandalf. 'Hobbits really are amazing
creatures, as I have said before. You can learn all that there is to know
about their ways in a month, and yet after a hundred years they can still
surprise you at a pinch. I hardly expected to get such an answer, not even
from you. But Bilbo made no mistake in choosing his heir, though he little
thought how important it would prove. I am afraid you are right. The Ring
will not be able to stay hidden in the Shire much longer; and for your own
sake, as well as for others, you will have to go, and leave the name of
Baggins behind you. That name will not be safe to have, outside the Shire or
in the Wild. I will give you a travelling name now. When you go, go as Mr.
Underhill.
'But I don't think you need go alone. Not if you know of anyone you can
trust, and who would be willing to go by your side - and that you would be
willing to take into unknown perils. But if you look for a companion, be
careful in choosing! And be careful of what you say, even to your closest
friends! The enemy has many spies and many ways of hearing.'
Suddenly he stopped as if listening. Frodo became aware that all was
very quiet, inside and outside. Gandalf crept to one side of the window.
Then with a dart he sprang to the sill, and thrust a long arm out and
downwards. There was a squawk, and up came Sam Gamgee's curly head
hauled by
one ear.
'Well, well, bless my beard!' said Gandalf. 'Sam Gamgee is it? Now what
may you be doing?'
'Lor bless you, Mr. Gandalf, sir!' said Sam. 'Nothing! Leastways I was
just trimming the grass-border under the window, if you follow me.' He
picked up his shears and exhibited them as evidence.
'I don't,' said Gandalf grimly. It is some time since I last heard the
sound of your shears. How long have you been eavesdropping?'
'Eavesdropping, sir? I don't follow you, begging your pardon. There
ain't no eaves at Bag End, and that's a fact.'
'Don't be a fool! What have you heard, and why did you listen?'
Gandalf's eyes flashed and his brows stuck out like bristles.
'Mr. Frodo, sir!' cried Sam quaking. 'Don't let him hurt me, sir! Don't
let him turn me into anything unnatural! My old dad would take on so. I
meant no harm, on my honour, sir!'
'He won't hurt you,' said Frodo, hardly able to keep from laughing,
although he was himself startled and rather puzzled. 'He knows, as well as I
do, that you mean no harm. But just you up and answer his questions straight
away!'
'Well, sir,' said Sam dithering a little. 'I heard a deal that I didn't
rightly understand, about an enemy, and rings, and Mr. Bilbo, sir, and
dragons, and a fiery mountain, and - and Elves, sir. I listened because I
couldn't help myself, if you know what I mean. Lor bless me, sir, but I do
love tales of that sort. And I believe them too, whatever Ted may say.
Elves, sir! I would dearly love to see them. Couldn't you take me to see
Elves, sir, when you go?'
Suddenly Gandalf laughed. 'Come inside!' he shouted, and putting out
both his arms he lifted the astonished Sam, shears, grass-clippings and all,
right through the window and stood him on the floor. 'Take you to see Elves,
eh?' he said, eyeing Sam closely, but with a smile flickering on his face.
'So you heard that Mr. Frodo is going away?'
'I did, sir. And that's why I choked: which you heard seemingly. I
tried not to, sir, but it burst out of me: I was so upset.'
'It can't be helped, Sam,' said Frodo sadly. He had suddenly realized
that flying from the Shire would mean more painful partings than merely
saying farewell to the familiar comforts of Bag End. 'I shall have to go.
But' - and here he looked hard at Sam - 'if you really care about me, you
will keep that dead secret. See? If you don't, if you even breathe a word of
what you've heard here, then I hope Gandalf will turn you into a spotted
toad and fill the garden full of grass-snakes.'
Sam fell on his knees, trembling. 'Get up, Sam!' said Gandalf. I have
thought of something better than that. Something to shut your mouth, and
punish you properly for listening. You shall go away with Mr. Frodo!'
'Me, sir!' cried Sam, springing up like a dog invited for a walk. 'Me
go and see Elves and all! Hooray!' he shouted, and then burst into tears.
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The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 10 - Strider (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 15 - The Ring Goes South (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 20 - The Great River (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 21 - The Breaking of the Fellowship (1)


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Showing posts with label The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company. Show all posts
Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company,
'You ought to go quietly, and you ought to go soon,' said Gandalf. Two
or three weeks had passed, and still Frodo made no sign of getting ready to
go.
'I know. But it is difficult to do both,' he objected. If I just vanish
like Bilbo, the tale will be all over the Shire in no time.'
'Of course you mustn't vanish!' said Gandalf. 'That wouldn't do at all!
I said soon, not instantly. If you can think of any way of slipping out of
the Shire without its being generally known, it will be worth a little
delay. But you must not delay too long.'
'What about the autumn, on or after Our Birthday?' asked Frodo. 'I
think I could probably make some arrangements by then.'
To tell the truth, he was very reluctant to start, now that it had come
to the point. Bag End seemed a more desirable residence than it had for
years, and he wanted to savour as much as he could of his last summer in the
Shire. When autumn came, he knew that part at least of his heart would think
more kindly of journeying, as it always did at that season. He had indeed
privately made up his mind to leave on his fiftieth birthday: Bilbo's one
hundred and twenty-eighth. It seemed somehow the proper day on which to set
out and follow him. Following Bilbo was uppermost in his mind, and the one
thing that made the thought of leaving bearable. He thought as little as
possible about the Ring, and where it might lead him in the end. But he did
not tell all his thoughts to Gandalf. What the wizard guessed was always
difficult to tell.
He looked at Frodo and smiled. 'Very well,' he said. 'I think that will
do - but it must not be any later. I am getting very anxious. In the
mean-while, do take care, and don't let out any hint of where you are going!
And see that Sam Gamgee does not talk. If he does, I really shall turn him
into a toad.'
'As for where I am going,' said Frodo, 'it would be difficult to give
that away, for I have no clear idea myself, yet.'
'Don't be absurd!' said Gandalf. 'I am not warning you against leaving
an address at the post-office! But you are leaving the Shire - and that
should not be known, until you are far away. And you must go, or at least
set out, either North, South, West or East - and the direction should
certainly not be known.'
'I have been so taken up with the thoughts of leaving Bag End, and of
saying farewell, that I have never even considered the direction,' said
Frodo. 'For where am I to go? And by what shall I steer? What is to be my
quest? Bilbo went to find a treasure, there and back again; but I go to lose
one, and not return, as far as I can see.'
'But you cannot see very far,' said Gandalf. 'Neither can I. It may be
your task to find the Cracks of Doom; but that quest may be for others: I do
not know. At any rate you are not ready for that long road yet.'
'No indeed!' said Frodo. 'But in the meantime what course am I to
lake?'
'Towards danger; but not too rashly, nor too straight,' answered the
wizard. 'If you want my advice, make for Rivendell. That journey should not
prove too perilous, though the Road is less easy than it was, and it will
grow worse as the year fails.'
'Rivendell!' said Frodo. 'Very good: I will go east, and I will make
for Rivendell. I will take Sam to visit the Elves; he will be delighted.' He
spoke lightly; but his heart was moved suddenly with a desire to see the
house of Elrond Halfelven, and breathe the air of that deep valley where
many of the Fair Folk still dwelt in peace.
One summer's evening an astonishing piece of news reached the Ivy Bush
and Green Dragon. Giants and other portents on the borders of the Shire were
forgotten for more important matters: Mr. Frodo was selling Bag End, indeed
he had already sold it - to the Sackville-Bagginses!
'For a nice bit, loo,' said some. 'At a bargain price,' said others,
'and that's more likely when Mistress Lobelia's the buyer.' (Otho had died
some years before, at the ripe but disappointed age of 102.)
Just why Mr. Frodo was selling his beautiful hole was even more
debatable than the price. A few held the theory - supported by the nods and
hints of Mr. Baggins himself - that Frodo's money was running out: he was
going to leave Hobbiton and live in a quiet way on the proceeds of the sale
down in Buckland among his Brandybuck relations. 'As far from the
Sackville-Bagginses as may be,' some added. But so firmly fixed had the
notion of the immeasurable wealth of the Bagginses of Bag End become that
most found this hard to believe, harder than any other reason or unreason
that their fancy could suggest: to most it suggested a dark and yet
unrevealed plot by Gandalf. Though he kept himself very quiet and did not go
about by day, it was well known that he was 'hiding up in the Bag End'. But
however a removal might fit in with the designs of his wizardry, there was
no doubt about the fact: Frodo Baggins was going back to Buckland.
'Yes, I shall be moving this autumn,' he said. 'Merry Brandybuck is
looking out for a nice little hole for me, or perhaps a small house.'
As a matter of fact with Merry's help he had already chosen and bought
a little house at Crickhollow in the country beyond Bucklebury. To all but
Sam he pretended he was going to settle down there permanently. The decision
to set out eastwards had suggested the idea to him; for Buckland was on the
eastern borders of the Shire, and as he had lived there in childhood his
going back would at least seem credible.
Gandalf stayed in the Shire for over two months. Then one evening, at
the end of June, soon after Frodo's plan had been finally arranged, he
suddenly announced that he was going off again next morning. 'Only for a
short while, I hope,' he said. 'But I am going down beyond the southern
borders to get some news, if I can. I have been idle longer than I should.'
He spoke lightly, but it seemed to Frodo that he looked rather worried.
'Has anything happened?' he asked.
'Well no; but I have heard something that has made me anxious and needs
looking into. If I think it necessary after all for you to get off at once,
I shall come back immediately, or at least send word. In the meanwhile stick
to your plan; but be more careful than ever, especially of the Ring. Let me
impress on you once more: don't use it!'
He went off at dawn. 'I may be back any day,' he said. 'At the very
latest I shall come back for the farewell party. I think after all you may
need my company on the Road.'
At first Frodo was a good deal disturbed, and wondered often what
Gandalf could have heard; but his uneasiness wore off, and in the fine
weather he forgot his troubles for a while. The Shire had seldom seen so
fair a summer, or so rich an autumn: the trees were laden with apples, honey
was dripping in the combs, and the corn was tall and full.
Autumn was well under way before Frodo began to worry about Gandalf
again. September was passing and there was still no news of him. The
Birthday, and the removal, drew nearer, and still he did not come, or send
word. Bag End began to be busy. Some of Frodo's friends came to stay and
help him with the packing: there was Fredegar Bolger and Folco Boffin, and
of course his special friends Pippin Took and Merry Brandybuck. Between
them
they turned the whole place upside-down.
On September 20th two covered carts went off laden to Buckland,
conveying the furniture and goods that Frodo had not sold to his new home,
by way of the Brandywine Bridge. The next day Frodo became really anxious,
and kept a constant look-out for Gandalf. Thursday, his birthday morning,
dawned as fair and clear as it had long ago for Bilbo's great party. Still
Gandalf did not appear. In the evening Frodo gave his farewell feast: it was
quite small, just a dinner for himself and his four helpers; but he was
troubled and fell in no mood for it. The thought that he would so soon have
to part with his young friends weighed on his heart. He wondered how he
would break it to them.
The four younger hobbits were, however, in high spirits, and the party
soon became very cheerful in spite of Gandalf's absence. The dining-room was
bare except for a table and chairs, but the food was good, and there was
good wine: Frodo's wine had not been included in the sale to the
Sackville-Bagginses.
'Whatever happens to the rest of my stuff, when the S.-B.s get their
claws on it, at any rate I have found a good home for this!' said Frodo, as
he drained his glass. It was the last drop of Old Winyards.
When they had sung many songs, and talked of many things they had done
together, they toasted Bilbo's birthday, and they drank his health and
Frodo's together according to Frodo's custom. Then they went out for a sniff
of air, and glimpse of the stars, and then they went to bed. Frodo's party
was over, and Gandalf had not come.
The next morning they were busy packing another cart with the remainder
of the luggage. Merry took charge of this, and drove off with Fatty (that is
Fredegar Bolger). 'Someone must get there and warm the house before you
arrive,' said Merry. 'Well, see you later - the day after tomorrow, if you
don't go to sleep on the way!'
Folco went home after lunch, but Pippin remained behind. Frodo was
restless and anxious, listening in vain for a sound of Gandalf. He decided
to wait until nightfall. After that, if Gandalf wanted him urgently, he
would go to Crickhollow, and might even get there first. For Frodo was going
on foot. His plan - for pleasure and a last look at the Shire as much as any
other reason - was to walk from Hobbiton to Bucklebury Ferry, taking it
fairly easy.
'I shall get myself a bit into training, too,' he said, looking at
himself in a dusty mirror in the half-empty hall. He had not done any
strenuous walking for a long time, and the reflection looked rather flabby,
he thought.
After lunch, the Sackville-Bagginses, Lobelia and her sandy-haired son,
Lotho, turned up, much to Frodo's annoyance. 'Ours at last!' said Lobelia,
as she stepped inside. It was not polite; nor strictly true, for the sale of
Bag End did not take effect until midnight. But Lobelia can perhaps be
forgiven: she had been obliged to wait about seventy-seven years longer for
Bag End than she once hoped, and she was now a hundred years old.
Anyway,
she had come to see that nothing she had paid for had been carried off; and
she wanted the keys. It took a long while to satisfy her, as she had brought
a complete inventory with her and went right through it. In the end she
departed with Lotho and the spare key and the promise that the other key
would be left at the Gamgees' in Bagshot Row. She snorted, and showed
plainly that she thought the Gamgees capable of plundering the hole during
the night. Frodo did not offer her any tea.
He took his own tea with Pippin and Sam Gamgee in the kitchen. It had
been officially announced that Sam was coming to Buckland 'to do for Mr.
Frodo and look after his bit of garden'; an arrangement that was approved by
the Gaffer, though it did not console him for the prospect of having Lobelia
as a neighbour.
'Our last meal at Bag End!' said Frodo, pushing back his chair. They
left the washing up for Lobelia. Pippin and Sam strapped up their three
packs and piled them in the porch. Pippin went out for a last stroll in the
garden. Sam disappeared.
The sun went down. Bag End seemed sad and gloomy and dishevelled.
Frodo
wandered round the familiar rooms, and saw the light of the sunset fade on
the walls, and shadows creep out of the corners. It grew slowly dark
indoors. He went out and walked down to the gate at the bottom of the path,
and then on a short way down the Hill Road. He half expected to see Gandalf
come striding up through the dusk.
The sky was clear and the stars were growing bright. 'It's going to be
a fine night,' he said aloud. 'That's good for a beginning. I feel like
walking. I can't bear any more hanging about. I am going to start, and
Gandalf must follow me.' He turned to go back, and then slopped, for he
heard voices, just round the corner by the end of Bagshot Row. One voice was
certainly the old Gaffer's; the other was strange, and somehow unpleasant.
He could not make out what it said, but he heard the Gaffer's answers, which
were rather shrill. The old man seemed put out.
'No, Mr. Baggins has gone away. Went this morning, and my Sam went
with
him: anyway all his stuff went. Yes, sold out and gone, I tell'ee. Why?
Why's none of my business, or yours. Where to? That ain't no secret. He's
moved to Bucklebury or some such place, away down yonder. Yes it is - a tidy
way. I've never been so far myself; they're queer folks in Buckland. No, I
can't give no message. Good night to you!'
Footsteps went away down the Hill. Frodo wondered vaguely why the fact
that they did not come on up the Hill seemed a great relief. 'I am sick of
questions and curiosity about my doings, I suppose,' he thought. 'What an
inquisitive lot they all are!' He had half a mind to go and ask the Gaffer
who the inquirer was; but he thought better (or worse) of it, and turned and
walked quickly back to Bag End.
Pippin was sitting on his pack in the porch. Sam was not there. Frodo
stepped inside the dark door. 'Sam!' he called. 'Sam! Time!'
'Coming, sir!' came the answer from far within, followed soon by Sam
himself, wiping his mouth. He had been saying farewell to the beer-barrel in
the cellar.
'All aboard, Sam?' said Frodo.
'Yes, sir. I'll last for a bit now, sir.'
Frodo shut and locked the round door, and gave the key to Sam. 'Run
down with this to your home, Sam!' he said. 'Then cut along the Row and meet
us as quick as you can at the gate in the lane beyond the meadows. We are
not going through the village tonight. Too many ears pricking and eyes
prying.' Sam ran off at full speed.
'Well, now we're off at last!' said Frodo. They shouldered their packs
and took up their sticks, and walked round the corner to the west side of
Bag End. 'Good-bye!' said Frodo, looking at the dark blank windows. He
waved
his hand, and then turned and (following Bilbo, if he had known it) hurried
after Peregrin down the garden-path. They jumped over the low place in the
hedge at the bottom and took to the fields, passing into the darkness like a
rustle in the grasses.
At the bottom of the Hill on its western side they came to the gate
opening on to a narrow lane. There they halted and adjusted the straps of
their packs. Presently Sam appeared, trotting quickly and breathing hard;
his heavy pack was hoisted high on his shoulders, and he had put on his head
a tall shapeless fell bag, which he called a hat. In the gloom he looked
very much like a dwarf.
'I am sure you have given me all the heaviest stuff,' said Frodo. 'I
pity snails, and all that carry their homes on their backs.'
'I could take a lot more yet, sir. My packet is quite light,' said Sam
stoutly and untruthfully.
'No, you don't, Sam!' said Pippin. 'It is good for him. He's got
nothing except what he ordered us to pack. He's been slack lately, and he'll
feel the weight less when he's walked off some of his own.'
'Be kind to a poor old hobbit!' laughed Frodo. 'I shall be as thin as a
willow-wand, I'm sure, before I get to Buckland. But I was talking nonsense.
I suspect you have taken more than your share, Sam, and I shall look into it
at our next packing.' He picked up his stick again. 'Well, we all like
walking in the dark,' he said, 'so let's put some miles behind us before
bed.'
For a short way they followed the lane westwards. Then leaving it they
turned left and took quietly to the fields again. They went in single file
along hedgerows and the borders of coppices, and night fell dark about them.
In their dark cloaks they were as invisible as if they all had magic rings.
Since they were all hobbits, and were trying to be silent, they made no
noise that even hobbits would hear. Even the wild things in the fields and
woods hardly noticed their passing.
After some time they crossed the Water, west of Hobbiton, by a narrow
plank-bridge. The stream was there no more than a winding black ribbon,
bordered with leaning alder-trees. A mile or two further south they hastily
crossed the great road from the Brandywine Bridge; they were now in the
Tookland and bending south-eastwards they made for the Green Hill Country.
As they began to climb its first slopes they looked back and saw the lamps
in Hobbiton far off twinkling in the gentle valley of the Water. Soon it
disappeared in the folds of the darkened land, and was followed by Bywater
beside its grey pool. When the light of the last farm was far behind,
peeping among the trees, Frodo turned and waved a hand in farewell.
'I wonder if I shall ever look down into that valley again,' he said
quietly.
When they had walked for about three hours they rested. The night was
clear, cool, and starry, but smoke-like wisps of mist were creeping up the
hill-sides from the streams and deep meadows. Thin-clad birches, swaying in
a light wind above their heads, made a black net against the pale sky. They
ate a very frugal supper (for hobbits), and then went on again. Soon they
struck a narrow road, that went rolling up and down, fading grey into the
darkness ahead: the road to Woodhall, and Stock, and the Bucklebury Ferry.
It climbed away from the main road in the Water-valley, and wound over the
skirts of the Green Hills towards Woody-End, a wild corner of the
Eastfarthing.
After a while they plunged into a deeply cloven track between tall
trees that rustled their dry leaves in the night. It was very dark. At first
they talked, or hummed a tune softly together, being now far away from
inquisitive ears. Then they marched on in silence, and Pippin began to lag
behind. At last, as they began to climb a steep slope, he stopped and
yawned.
'I am so sleepy,' he said, 'that soon I shall fall down on the road.
Are you going to sleep on your legs? It is nearly midnight.'
'I thought you liked walking in the dark,' said Frodo. 'But there is no
great hurry. Merry expects us some time the day after tomorrow; but that
leaves us nearly two days more. We'll halt at the first likely spot.'
'The wind's in the West,' said Sam. 'If we get to the other side of
this hill, we shall find a spot that is sheltered and snug enough, sir.
There is a dry fir-wood just ahead, if I remember rightly.' Sam knew the
land well within twenty miles of Hobbiton, but that was the limit of his
geography.
Just over the top of the hill they came on the patch of fir-wood.
Leaving the road they went into the deep resin-scented darkness of the
trees, and gathered dead sticks and cones to make a fire. Soon they had a
merry crackle of flame at the foot of a large fir-tree and they sat round it
for a while, until they began to nod. Then, each in an angle of the great
tree's roots, they curled up in their cloaks and blankets, and were soon
fast asleep. They set no watch; even Frodo feared no danger yet, for they
were still in the heart of the Shire. A few creatures came and looked at
them when the fire had died away. A fox passing through the wood on business
of his own stopped several minutes and sniffed.
'Hobbits!' he thought. 'Well, what next? I have heard of strange doings
in this land, but I have seldom heard of a hobbit sleeping out of doors
under a tree. Three of them! There's something mighty queer behind this.' He
was quite right, but he never found out any more about it.
The morning came, pale and clammy. Frodo woke up first, and found that
a tree-root had made a hole in his back, and that his neck was stiff.
'Walking for pleasure! Why didn't I drive?' he thought, as he usually
did at the beginning of an expedition. 'And all my beautiful feather beds
are sold to the Sackville-Bagginses! These tree-roots would do them good.'
He stretched. 'Wake up, hobbits!' he cried. It's a beautiful morning.'
'What's beautiful about it?' said Pippin, peering over the edge of his
blanket with one eye. 'Sam! Gel breakfast ready for half-past nine! Have you
got the bath-water hot?'
Sam jumped up, looking rather bleary. 'No, sir, I haven't, sir!' he
said.
Frodo stripped the blankets from Pippin and rolled him over, and then
walked off to the edge of the wood. Away eastward the sun was rising red out
of the mists that lay thick on the world. Touched with gold and red the
autumn trees seemed to be sailing rootless in a shadowy sea. A little below
him to the left the road ran down steeply into a hollow and disappeared.
When he returned Sam and Pippin had got a good fire going. 'Water!'
shouted Pippin. 'Where's the water?'
'I don't keep water in my pockets,' said Frodo. 'We thought you had
gone to find some,' said Pippin, busy setting out the food, and cups. 'You
had better go now.'
'You can come too,' said Frodo, 'and bring all the water-bottles.'
There was a stream at the foot of the hill. They filled their bottles and
the small camping kettle at a little fall where the water fell a few feet
over an outcrop of grey stone. It was icy cold; and they spluttered and
puffed as they bathed their faces and hands.
When their breakfast was over, and their packs all trussed up again, it
was after ten o'clock, and the day was beginning to turn fine and hot. They
went down the slope, and across the stream where it dived under the road,
and up the next slope, and up and down another shoulder of the hills; and by
that time their cloaks, blankets, water, food, and other gear already seemed
a heavy burden.
The day's march promised to be warm and tiring work. After some miles,
however, the road ceased to roll up and down: it climbed to the top of a
steep bank in a weary zig-zagging sort of way, and then prepared to go down
for the last time. In front of them they saw the lower lands dotted with
small clumps of trees that melted away in the distance to a brown woodland
haze. They were looking across the Woody End towards the Brandywine
River.
The road wound away before them like a piece of string.
'The road goes on for ever,' said Pippin; 'but I can't without a rest.
It is high time for lunch.' He sat down on the bank at the side of the road
and looked away east into the haze, beyond which lay the River, and the end
of the Shire in which he had spent all his life. Sam stood by him. His round
eyes were wide open - for he was looking across lands he had never seen to a
new horizon.
'Do Elves live in those woods?' he asked.
'Not that I ever heard,' said Pippin. Frodo was silent. He too was
gazing eastward along the road, as if he had never seen it before. Suddenly
he spoke, aloud but as if to himself, saying slowly:
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with weary feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
'That sounds like a bit of old Bilbo's rhyming,' said Pippin. 'Or is it
one of your imitations? It does not sound altogether encouraging.'
'I don't know,' said Frodo. It came to me then, as if I was making it
up; but I may have heard it long ago. Certainly it reminds me very much of
Bilbo in the last years, before he went away. He used often to say there was
only one Road; that it was like a great river: its springs were at every
doorstep, and every path was its tributary. "It's a dangerous business,
Frodo, going out of your door," he used to say. "You step into the Road, and
if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept
off to. Do you realize that this is the very path that goes through
Mirkwood, and that if you let it, it might take you to the Lonely Mountain
or even further and to worse places?" He used to say that on the path
outside the front door at Bag End, especially after he had been out for a
long walk.'
'Well, the Road won't sweep me anywhere for an hour at least,' said
Pippin, unslinging his pack. The others followed his example, putting their
packs against the bank and their legs out into the road. After a rest they
had a good lunch, and then more rest.
The sun was beginning to get low and the light of afternoon was on the
land as they went down the hill. So far they had not met a soul on the road.
This way was not much used, being hardly fit for carts, and there was little
traffic to the Woody End. They had been jogging along again for an hour or
more when Sam stopped a moment as if listening. They were now on level
ground, and the road after much winding lay straight ahead through
grass-land sprinkled with tall trees, outliers of the approaching woods.
'I can hear a pony or a horse coming along the road behind,' said Sam.
They looked back, but the turn of the road prevented them from seeing
far. 'I wonder if that is Gandalf coming after us,' said Frodo; but even as
he said it, he had a feeling that it was not so, and a sudden desire to hide
from the view of the rider came over him.
'It may not matter much,' he said apologetically, 'but I would rather
not be seen on the road - by anyone. I am sick of my doings being noticed
and discussed. And if it is Gandalf,' he added as an afterthought, 'we can
give him a little surprise, to pay him out for being so late. Let's get out
of sight!'
The other two ran quickly to the left and down into a little hollow not
far from the road. There they lay flat. Frodo hesitated for a second:
curiosity or some other feeling was struggling with his desire to hide. The
sound of hoofs drew nearer. Just in time he threw himself down in a patch of
long grass behind a tree that overshadowed the road. Then he lifted his head
and peered cautiously above one of the great roots.
Round the corner came a black horse, no hobbit-pony but a full-sized
horse; and on it sat a large man, who seemed to crouch in the saddle,
wrapped in a great black cloak and hood, so that only his boots in the high
stirrups showed below; his face was shadowed and invisible.
When it reached the tree and was level with Frodo the horse stopped.
The riding figure sat quite still with its head bowed, as if listening. From
inside the hood came a noise as of someone sniffing to catch an elusive
scent; the head turned from side to side of the road.
A sudden unreasoning fear of discovery laid hold of Frodo, and he
thought of his Ring. He hardly dared to breathe, and yet the desire to get
it out of his pocket became so strong that he began slowly to move his hand.
He felt that he had only to slip it on, and then he would be safe. The
advice of Gandalf seemed absurd. Bilbo had used the Ring. 'And I am still in
the Shire,' he thought, as his hand touched the chain on which it hung. At
that moment the rider sat up, and shook the reins. The horse stepped
forward, walking slowly at first, and then breaking into a quick trot.
Frodo crawled to the edge of the road and watched the rider, until he
dwindled into the distance. He could not be quite sure, but it seemed to him
that suddenly, before it passed out of sight, the horse turned aside and
went into the trees on the right.
'Well, I call that very queer, and indeed disturbing,' said Frodo to
himself, as he walked towards his companions. Pippin and Sam had remained
flat in the grass, and had seen nothing; so Frodo described the rider and
his strange behaviour.
'I can't say why, but I felt certain he was looking or smelling for me;
and also I felt certain that I did not want him to discover me. I've never
seen or fell anything like it in the Shire before.'
'But what has one of the Big People got to do with us?' said Pippin.
'And what is he doing in this part of the world?'
'There are some Men about,' said Frodo. 'Down in the Southfarthing they
have had trouble with Big People, I believe. But I have never heard of
anything like this rider. I wonder where he comes from.'
'Begging your pardon,' put in Sam suddenly, 'I know where he comes
from. It's from Hobbiton that this here black rider comes, unless there's
more than one. And I know where he's going to.'
'What do you mean?' said Frodo sharply, looking at him in astonishment.
'Why didn't you speak up before?'
'I have only just remembered, sir. It was like this: when I got back to
our hole yesterday evening with the key, my dad, he says to me: Hello, Sam!
he says. I thought you were away with Mr. Frodo this morning. There's been a
strange customer asking for Mr. Baggins of Bag End, and he's only just gone.
I've sent him on to Bucklebury. Not that I liked the sound of him. He seemed
mighty put out, when I told him Mr. Baggins had left his old home for good.
Hissed at me, he did. It gave me quite a shudder. What sort of a fellow was
he? says I to the Gaffer. / don't know, says he; but he wasn't a hobbit. He
was tall and black-like, and he stooped aver me. I reckon it was one of the
Big Folk from foreign parts. He spoke funny.
'I couldn't stay to hear more, sir, since you were waiting; and I
didn't give much heed to it myself. The Gaffer is getting old, and more than
a bit blind, and it must have been near dark when this fellow come up the
Hill and found him taking the air at the end of our Row. I hope he hasn't
done no harm, sir, nor me.'
'The Gaffer can't be blamed anyway,' said Frodo. 'As a matter of fact I
heard him talking to a stranger, who seemed to be inquiring for me, and I
nearly went and asked him who it was. I wish I had, or you had told me about
it before. I might have been more careful on the road.'
'Still, there may be no connexion between this rider and the Gaffer's
stranger,' said Pippin. 'We left Hobbiton secretly enough, and I don't see
how he could have followed us.'
'What about the smelling, sir?' said Sam. 'And the Gaffer said he was a
black chap.'
'I wish I had waited for Gandalf,' Frodo muttered. 'But perhaps it
would only have made matters worse.'
'Then you know or guess something about this rider?' said Pippin, who
had caught the muttered words.
'I don't know, and I would rather not guess,' said Frodo. 'All right,
cousin Frodo! You can keep your secret for the present, if you want to be
mysterious. In the meanwhile what are we to do? I should like a bite and a
sup, but somehow I think we had better move on from here. Your talk of
sniffing riders with invisible noses has unsettled me.'
'Yes, I think we will move on now,' said Frodo; 'but not on the road
-in case that rider comes back, or another follows him. We ought to do a
good step more today. Buckland is still miles away.'
The shadows of the trees were long and thin on the grass, as they
started off again. They now kept a stone's throw to the left of the road,
and kept out of sight of it as much as they could. But this hindered them;
for the grass was thick and tussocky, and the ground uneven, and the trees
began to draw together into thickets.
The sun had gone down red behind the hills at their backs, and evening
was coming on before they came back to the road at the end of the long level
over which it had run straight for some miles. At that point it bent left
and went down into the lowlands of the Yale making for Stock; but a lane
branched right, winding through a wood of ancient oak-trees on its way to
Woodhall. 'That is the way for us,' said Frodo.
Not far from the road-meeting they came on the huge hulk of a tree: it
was still alive and had leaves on the small branches that it had put out
round the broken stumps of its long-fallen limbs; but it was hollow, and
could be entered by a great crack on the side away from the road. The
hobbits crept inside, and sat there upon a floor of old leaves and decayed
wood. They rested and had a light meal, talking quietly and listening from
time to time.
Twilight was about them as they crept back to the lane. The West wind
was sighing in the branches. Leaves were whispering. Soon the road began to
fall gently but steadily into the dusk. A star came out above the trees in
the darkening East before them. They went abreast and in step, to keep up
their spirits. After a time, as the stars grew thicker and brighter, the
feeling of disquiet left them, and they no longer listened for the sound of
hoofs. They began to hum softly, as hobbits have a way of doing as they walk
along, especially when they are drawing near to home at night. With most
hobbits it is a supper-song or a bed-song; but these hobbits hummed a
walking-song (though not, of course, without any mention of supper and bed).
Bilbo Baggins had made the words, to a tune that was as old as the hills,
and taught it to Frodo as they walked in the lanes of the Water-valley and
talked about Adventure.
Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we may meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That none have seen but we alone.
Tree and flower and leaf and grass,
Let them pass! Let them pass!
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by! Pass them by!
Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though we pass them by today,
Tomorrow we may come this way
And take the hidden paths that run
Towards the Moon or to the Sun.
Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe,
Let them go! Let them go!
Sand and stone and pool and dell,
Fare you well! Fare you well!
Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Then world behind and home ahead,
We'll wander back to home and bed.
Mist and twilight, cloud and shade,
Away shall fade! Away shall fade!
Fire and lamp, and meat and bread,
And then to bed! And then to bed!
The song ended. 'And now to bed! And now to bed!' sang Pippin in a high
voice.
'Hush!' said Frodo. 'I think I hear hoofs again.'
They slopped suddenly and stood as silent as tree-shadows, listening.
There was a sound of hoofs in the lane, some way behind, but coming slow and
clear down the wind. Quickly and quietly they slipped off the path, and ran
into the deeper shade under the oak-trees.
'Don't let us go too far!' said Frodo. 'I don't want to be seen, but I
want to see if it is another Black Rider.'
'Very well!' said Pippin. 'But don't forget the sniffing!'
The hoofs drew nearer. They had no time to find any hiding-place better
than the general darkness under the trees; Sam and Pippin crouched behind a
large tree-bole, while Frodo crept back a few yards towards the lane. It
showed grey and pale, a line of fading light through the wood. Above it the
stars were thick in the dim sky, but there was no moon.
The sound of hoofs stopped. As Frodo watched he saw something dark pass
across the lighter space between two trees, and then halt. It looked like
the black shade of a horse led by a smaller black shadow. The black shadow
stood close to the point where they had left the path, and it swayed from
side to side. Frodo thought he heard the sound of snuffling. The shadow bent
to the ground, and then began to crawl towards him.
Once more the desire to slip on the Ring came over Frodo; but this time
it was stronger than before. So strong that, almost before he realized what
he was doing, his hand was groping in his pocket. But at that moment there
came a sound like mingled song and laughter. Clear voices rose and fell in
the starlit air. The black shadow straightened up and retreated. It climbed
on to the shadowy horse and seemed to vanish across the lane into the
darkness on the other side. Frodo breathed again.
'Elves!' exclaimed Sam in a hoarse whisper. 'Elves, sir!' He would have
burst out of the trees and dashed off towards the voices, if they had not
pulled him back.
'Yes, it is Elves,' said Frodo. 'One can meet them sometimes in the
Woody End. They don't live in the Shire, but they wander into it in Spring
and Autumn, out of their own lands away beyond the Tower Hills. I am
thankful that they do! You did not see, but that Black Rider stopped just
here and was actually crawling towards us when the song began. As soon as he
heard the voices he slipped away.'
'What about the Elves?' said Sam, too excited to trouble about the
rider. 'Can't we go and see them?'
'Listen! They are coming this way,' said Frodo. 'We have only to wait.'
The singing drew nearer. One clear voice rose now above the others. It was
singing in the fair elven-tongue, of which Frodo knew only a little, and the
others knew nothing. Yet the sound blending with the melody seemed to shape
itself in their thought into words which they only partly understood. This
was the song as Frodo heard it:
Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear!
O Queen beyond the Western Seas!
O Light to us that wander here
Amid the world of woven trees!
Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!
Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath!
Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee
In a far land beyond the Sea.
O stars that in the Sunless Year
With shining hand by her were sawn,
In windy fields now bright and clear
We see your silver blossom blown!
O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!
We still remember, we who dwell
In this far land beneath the trees,
Thy starlight on the Western Seas.
The song ended. 'These are High Elves! They spoke the name of
Elbereth!' said Frodo in amazement, 'Few of that fairest folk are ever seen
in the Shire. Not many now remain in Middle-earth, east of the Great Sea.
This is indeed a strange chance!'
The hobbits sat in shadow by the wayside. Before long the Elves came
down the lane towards the valley. They passed slowly, and the hobbits could
see the starlight glimmering on their hair and in their eyes. They bore no
lights, yet as they walked a shimmer, like the light of the moon above the
rim of the hills before it rises, seemed to fall about their feet. They were
now silent, and as the last Elf passed he turned and looked towards the
hobbits and laughed.
'Hail, Frodo!' he cried. 'You are abroad late. Or are you perhaps
lost?' Then he called aloud to the others, and all the company stopped and
gathered round.
'This is indeed wonderful!' they said. 'Three hobbits in a wood at
night! We have not seen such a thing since Bilbo went away. What is the
meaning of it?'
'The meaning of it, fair people,' said Frodo, 'is simply that we seem
to be going the same way as you are. I like walking under the stars. But I
would welcome your company.'
'But we have no need of other company, and hobbits are so dull,' they
laughed. 'And how do you know that we go the same way as you, for you do
not
know whither we are going?'
'And how do you know my name?' asked Frodo in return.
'We know many things,' they said. 'We have seen you often before with
Bilbo, though you may not have seen us.'
'Who are you, and who is your lord?' asked Frodo.
'I am Gildor,' answered their leader, the Elf who had first hailed him.
'Gildor Inglorion of the House of Finrod. We are Exiles, and most of our
kindred have long ago departed and we too are now only tarrying here a
while, ere we return over the Great Sea. But some of our kinsfolk dwell
still in peace in Rivendell. Come now, Frodo, tell us what you are doing?
For we see that there is some shadow of fear upon you.'
'O Wise People!' interrupted Pippin eagerly. 'Tell us about the Black
Riders!'
'Black Riders?' they said in low voices. 'Why do you ask about Black
Riders?'
'Because two Black Riders have overtaken us today, or one has done so
twice,' said Pippin; 'only a little while ago he slipped away as you drew
near.'
The Elves did not answer at once, but spoke together softly in their
own tongue. At length Gildor turned to the hobbits. 'We will not speak of
this here,' he said. 'We think you had best come now with us. It is not our
custom, but for this time we will lake you on our road, and you shall lodge
with us tonight, if you will.'
'O Fair Folk! This is good fortune beyond my hope,' said Pippin. Sam
was speechless. 'I thank you indeed, Gildor Inglorion,' said Frodo bowing.
'Elen snla l®menn' omentielvo, a star shines on the hour of our meeting,' he
added in the high-elven speech.
'Be careful, friends!' cried Gildor laughing. 'Speak no secrets! Here
is a scholar in the Ancient Tongue. Bilbo was a good master. Hail,
Elf-friend!' he said, bowing to Frodo. 'Come now with your friends and join
our company! You had best walk in the middle so that you may not stray. You
may be weary before we halt.'
'Why? Where are you going?' asked Frodo.
'For tonight we go to the woods on the hills above Woodhall. It is some
miles, but you shall have rest at the end of it, and it will shorten your
journey tomorrow.'
They now marched on again in silence, and passed like shadows and faint
lights: for Elves (even more than hobbits) could walk when they wished
without sound or footfall. Pippin soon began to feel sleepy, and staggered
once or twice; but each time a tall Elf at his side put out his arm and
saved him from a fall. Sam walked along at Frodo's side, as if in a dream,
with an expression on his face half of fear and half of astonished joy.
The woods on either side became denser; the trees were now younger and
thicker; and as the lane went lower, running down into a fold of the hills,
there were many deep brakes of hazel on the rising slopes at either hand. At
last the Elves turned aside from the path. A green ride lay almost unseen
through the thickets on the right; and this they followed as it wound away
back up the wooded slopes on to the top of a shoulder of the hills that
stood out into the lower land of the river-valley. Suddenly they came out of
the shadow of the trees, and before them lay a wide space of grass, grey
under the night. On three sides the woods pressed upon it; but eastward the
ground fell steeply and the tops of the dark trees, growing at the bottom of
the slope, were below their feet. Beyond, the low lands lay dim and flat
under the stars. Nearer at hand a few lights twinkled in the village of
Woodhall.
The Elves sat on the grass and spoke together in soft voices; they
seemed to take no further notice of the hobbits. Frodo and his companions
wrapped themselves in cloaks and blankets, and drowsiness stole over them.
The night grew on, and the lights in the valley went out. Pippin fell
asleep, pillowed on a green hillock.
Away high in the East swung Remmirath, the Netted Stars, and slowly
above the mists red Borgil rose, glowing like a jewel of fire. Then by some
shift of airs all the mist was drawn away like a veil, and there leaned up,
as he climbed over the rim of the world, the Swordsman of the Sky,
Menelvagor with his shining belt. The Elves all burst into song. Suddenly
under the trees a fire sprang up with a red light.
'Come!' the Elves called to the hobbits. 'Come! Now is the time for
speech and merriment!'
Pippin sat up and rubbed his eyes. He shivered. 'There is a fire in the
hall, and food for hungry guests,' said an Elf standing before him.
At the south end of the greensward there was an opening. There the
green floor ran on into the wood, and formed a wide space like a hall,
roofed by the boughs of trees. Their great trunks ran like pillars down each
side. In the middle there was a wood-fire blazing, and upon the tree-pillars
torches with lights of gold and silver were burning steadily. The Elves sat
round the fire upon the grass or upon the sawn rings of old trunks. Some
went to and fro bearing cups and pouring drink; others brought food on
heaped plates and dishes.
'This is poor fare,' they said to the hobbits; 'for we are lodging in
the greenwood far from our halls. If ever you are our guests at home, we
will treat you better.'
'It seems to me good enough for a birthday-party,' said Frodo.
Pippin afterwards recalled little of either food or drink, for his mind
was filled with the light upon the elf-faces, and the sound of voices so
various and so beautiful that he felt in a waking dream. But he remembered
that there was bread, surpassing the savour of a fair white loaf to one who
is starving; and fruits sweet as wildberries and richer than the tended
fruits of gardens; he drained a cup that was filled with a fragrant draught,
cool as a clear fountain, golden as a summer afternoon.
Sam could never describe in words, nor picture clearly to himself, what
he felt or thought that night, though it remained in his memory as one of
the chief events of his life. The nearest he ever got was to say: 'Well,
sir, if I could grow apples like that, I would call myself a gardener. But
it was the singing that went to my heart, if you know what I mean.'
Frodo sat, eating, drinking, and talking with delight; but his mind was
chiefly on the words spoken. He knew a little of the elf-speech and listened
eagerly. Now and again he spoke to those that served him and thanked them in
their own language. They smiled at him and said laughing: 'Here is a jewel
among hobbits!'
After a while Pippin fell fast asleep, and was lifted up and borne away
to a bower under the trees; there he was laid upon a soft bed and slept the
rest of the night away. Sam refused to leave his master. When Pippin had
gone, he came and sat curled up at Frodo's feet, where at last he nodded and
closed his eyes. Frodo remained long awake, talking with Gildor.
They spoke of many things, old and new, and Frodo questioned Gildor
much about happenings in the wide world outside the Shire. The tidings were
mostly sad and ominous: of gathering darkness, the wars of Men, and the
flight of the Elves. At last Frodo asked the question that was nearest to
his heart:
'Tell me, Gildor, have you ever seen Bilbo since he left us?'
Gildor smiled. 'Yes,' he answered. 'Twice. He said farewell to us on
this very spot. But I saw him once again, far from here.' He would say no
more about Bilbo, and Frodo fell silent.
'You do not ask me or tell me much that concerns yourself, Frodo,' said
Gildor. 'But I already know a little, and I can read more in your face and
in the thought behind your questions. You are leaving the Shire, and yet you
doubt that you will find what you seek, or accomplish what you intend, or
that you will ever return. Is not that so?'
'It is,' said Frodo; 'but I thought my going was a secret known only to
Gandalf and my faithful Sam.' He looked down at Sam, who was snoring
gently.
'The secret will not reach the Enemy from us,' said Gildor.
'The Enemy?' said Frodo. 'Then you know why I am leaving the Shire?'
'I do not know for what reason the Enemy is pursuing you,' answered
Gildor; 'but I perceive that he is - strange indeed though that seems to me.
And I warn you that peril is now both before you and behind you, and upon
either side.'
'You mean the Riders? I feared that they were servants of the Enemy.
What are the Black Riders?'
'Has Gandalf told you nothing?'
'Nothing about such creatures.'
'Then I think it is not for me to say more - lest terror should keep
you from your journey. For it seems to me that you have set out only just in
time, if indeed you are in time. You must now make haste, and neither stay
nor turn back; for the Shire is no longer any protection to you.'
'I cannot imagine what information could be more terrifying than your
hints and warnings,' exclaimed Frodo. 'I knew that danger lay ahead, of
course; but I did not expect to meet it in our own Shire. Can't a hobbit
walk from the Water to the River in peace?'
'But it is not your own Shire,' said Gildor. 'Others dwelt here before
hobbits were; and others will dwell here again when hobbits are no more. The
wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot for
ever fence it out.'
'I know - and yet it has always seemed so safe and familiar. What can I
do now? My plan was to leave the Shire secretly, and make my way to
Rivendell; but now my footsteps are dogged, before ever I get to Buckland.'
'I think you should still follow that plan,' said Gildor. 'I do not
think the Road will prove too hard for your courage. But if you desire
clearer counsel, you should ask Gandalf. I do not know the reason for your
flight, and therefore I do not know by what means your pursuers will assail
you. These things Gandalf must know. I suppose that you will see him before
you leave the Shire?'
'I hope so. But that is another thing that makes me anxious. I have
been expecting Gandalf for many days. He was to have come to Hobbiton at
the
latest two nights ago; but he has never appeared. Now I am wondering what
can have happened. Should I wait for him?'
Gildor was silent for a moment. 'I do not like this news,' he said at
last. 'That Gandalf should be late, does not bode well. But it is said: Do
not meddle in the affairs of Wizards, for they are subtle and quick to
anger. The choice is yours: to go or wait.'
'And it is also said,' answered Frodo: 'Go not to the Elves for
counsel, for they will say both no and yes.'
'Is it indeed?' laughed Gildor. 'Elves seldom give unguarded advice,
for advice is a dangerous gift, even from the wise to the wise, and all
courses may run ill. But what would you? You have not told me all concerning
yourself; and how then shall I choose better than you? But if you demand
advice, I will for friendship's sake give it. I think you should now go at
once, without delay; and if Gandalf does not come before you set out, then I
also advise this: do not go alone. Take such friends as are trusty and
willing. Now you should be grateful, for I do not give this counsel gladly.
The Elves have their own labours and their own sorrows, and they are little
concerned with the ways of hobbits, or of any other creatures upon earth.
Our paths cross theirs seldom, by chance or purpose. In this meeting there
may be more than chance; but the purpose is not clear to me, and I fear to
say too much.'
'I am deeply grateful,' said Frodo; 'but I wish you would tell me
plainly what the Black Riders are. If I take your advice I may not see
Gandalf for a long while, and I ought to know what is the danger that
pursues me.'
'Is it not enough to know that they are servants of the Enemy?'
answered Gildor. 'Flee them! Speak no words to them! They are deadly. Ask no
more of me! But my heart forbodes that, ere all is ended, you, Frodo son of
Drogo, will know more of these fell things than Gildor Inglorion. May
Elbereth protect you!'
'But where shall I find courage?' asked Frodo. 'That is what I chiefly
need.'
'Courage is found in unlikely places,' said Gildor. 'Be of good hope!
Sleep now! In the morning we shall have gone; but we will send our messages
through the lands. The Wandering Companies shall know of your journey,
and
those that have power for good shall be on the watch. I name you Elf-friend;
and may the stars shine upon the end of your road! Seldom have we had such
delight in strangers, and it is fair to hear words of the Ancient Speech
from the lips of other wanderers in the world.'
Frodo felt sleep coming upon him, even as Gildor finished speaking. 'I
will sleep now,' he said; and the Elf led him to a bower beside Pippin, and
he threw himself upon a bed and fell at once into a dreamless slumber.
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The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 10 - Strider (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 15 - The Ring Goes South (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 20 - The Great River (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 21 - The Breaking of the Fellowship (1)


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Showing posts with label The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms. Show all posts
Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms.
In the morning Frodo woke refreshed. He was lying in a bower made by a
living tree with branches laced and drooping to the ground; his bed was of
fern and grass, deep and soft and strangely fragrant. The sun was shining
through the fluttering leaves, which were still green upon the tree. He
jumped up and went out.
Sam was sitting on the grass near the edge of the wood. Pippin was
standing studying the sky and weather. There was no sign of the Elves.
'They have left us fruit and drink, and bread,' said Pippin. 'Come and
have your breakfast. The bread tastes almost as good as it did last night. I
did not want to leave you any, but Sam insisted.'
Frodo sat down beside Sam and began to eat. 'What is the plan for
today?' asked Pippin.
'To walk to Bucklebury as quickly as possible,' answered Frodo, and
gave his attention to the food.
'Do you think we shall see anything of those Riders?' asked Pippin
cheerfully. Under the morning sun the prospect of seeing a whole troop of
them did not seem very alarming to him.
'Yes, probably,' said Frodo, not liking the reminder. 'But I hope to
get across the river without their seeing us.'
'Did you find out anything about them from Gildor?'
'Not much - only hints and riddles,' said Frodo evasively. 'Did you ask
about the sniffing?'
'We didn't discuss it,' said Frodo with his mouth full.
'You should have. I am sure it is very important.'
'In that case I am sure Gildor would have refused to explain it,' said
Frodo sharply. 'And now leave me in peace for a bit! I don't want to answer
a string of questions while I am eating. I want to think!'
'Good heavens!' said Pippin. 'At breakfast?' He walked away towards the
edge of the green.
From Frodo's mind the bright morning - treacherously bright, he thought
- had not banished the fear of pursuit; and he pondered the words of Gildor.
The merry voice of Pippin came to him. He was running on the green turf and
singing.
'No! I could not!' he said to himself. 'It is one thing to take my
young friends walking over the Shire with me, until we are hungry and weary,
and food and bed are sweet. To take them into exile, where hunger and
weariness may have no cure, is quite another - even if they are willing to
come. The inheritance is mine alone. I don't think I ought even to take
Sam.' He looked at Sam Gamgee, and discovered that Sam was watching him.
'Well, Sam!' he said. 'What about it? I am leaving the Shire as soon as
ever I can - in fact I have made up my mind now not even to wait a day at
Crickhollow, if it can be helped.'
'Very good, sir!'
'You still mean to come with me?'
'I do.'
'It is going to be very dangerous, Sam. 'It is already dangerous. Most
likely neither of us will come back.'
'If you don't come back, sir, then I shan't, that's certain,' said Sam.
'Don't you leave him! they said to me. Leave him! I said. I never mean to. I
am going with him, if he climbs to the Moon, and if any of those Black
Rulers try to stop him, they'll have Sam Gamgee to reckon with, I said. They
laughed.'
'Who are they, and what are you talking about?'
'The Elves, sir. We had some talk last night; and they seemed to know
you were going away, so I didn't see the use of denying it. Wonderful folk,
Elves, sir! Wonderful!'
'They are,' said Frodo. 'Do you like them still, now you have had a
closer view?'
'They seem a bit above my likes and dislikes, so to speak,' answered
Sam slowly. 'It don't seem to matter what I think about them. They are quite
different from what I expected - so old and young, and so gay and sad, as it
were.'
Frodo looked at Sam rather startled, half expecting to see some outward
sign of the odd change that seemed to have come over him. It did not sound
like the voice of the old Sam Gamgee that he thought he knew. But it looked
like the old Sam Gamgee sitting there, except that his face was unusually
thoughtful.
'Do you feel any need to leave the Shire now - now that your wish to
see them has come true already?' he asked.
'Yes, sir. I don't know how to say it, but after last night I feel
different. I seem to see ahead, in a kind of way. I know we are going to
take a very long road, into darkness; but I know I can't turn back. It isn't
to see Elves now, nor dragons, nor mountains, that I want - I don't rightly
know what I want: but I have something to do before the end, and it lies
ahead, not in the Shire. I must see it through, sir, if you understand me.'
'I don't altogether. But I understand that Gandalf chose me a good
companion. I am content. We will go together.'
Frodo finished his breakfast in silence. Then standing up he looked
over the land ahead, and called to Pippin.
'All ready to start?' he said as Pippin ran up. 'We must be getting off
at once. We slept late; and there are a good many miles to go.'
'You slept late, you mean,' said Pippin. 'I was up long before; and we
are only waiting for you to finish eating and thinking.'
'I have finished both now. And I am going to make for Bucklebury Ferry
as quickly as possible. I am not going out of the way, back to the road we
left last night: I am going to cut straight across country from here.'
'Then you are going to fly,' said Pippin. 'You won't cut straight on
foot anywhere in this country.'
'We can cut straighter than the road anyway,' answered Frodo. 'The
Ferry is east from Woodhall; but the hard road curves away to the left -you
can see a bend of it away north over there. It goes round the north end of
the Marish so as to strike the causeway from the Bridge above Stock. But
that is miles out of the way. We could save a quarter of the distance if we
made a line for the Ferry from where we stand.'
'Short cuts make long delays,' argued Pippin. 'The country is rough
round here, and there are bogs and all kinds of difficulties down in the
Marish -I know the land in these parts. And if you are worrying about Black
Riders, I can't see that it is any worse meeting them on a road than in a
wood or a field.'
'It is less easy to find people in the woods and fields,' answered
Frodo. 'And if you are supposed to be on the road, there is some chance that
you will be looked for on the road and not off it.'
'All right!' said Pippin. 'I will follow you into every bog and ditch.
But it is hard! I had counted on passing the Golden Perch at Stock before
sundown. The best beer in the Eastfarthing, or used to be: it is a long time
since I tasted it.'
'That settles it!' said Frodo. 'Short cuts make delays, but inns make
longer ones. At all costs we must keep you away from the Golden Perch. We
want to get to Bucklebury before dark. What do you say, Sam?'
'I will go along with you, Mr. Frodo,' said Sam (in spite of private
misgiving and a deep regret for the best beer in the Eastfarthing).
'Then if we are going to toil through bog and briar, let's go now!'
said Pippin.
It was already nearly as hot as it had been the day before; but clouds
were beginning to come up from the West. It looked likely to turn to rain.
The hobbits scrambled down a steep green bank and plunged into the thick
trees below. Their course had been chosen to leave Woodhall to their left,
and to cut slanting through the woods that clustered along the eastern side
of the hills, until they reached the flats beyond. Then they could make
straight for the Ferry over country that was open, except for a few ditches
and fences. Frodo reckoned they had eighteen miles to go in a straight line.
He soon found that the thicket was closer and more tangled than it had
appeared. There were no paths in the undergrowth, and they did not get on
very fast. When they had struggled to the bottom of the bank, they found a
stream running down from the hills behind in a deeply dug bed with steep
slippery sides overhung with brambles. Most inconveniently it cut across the
line they had chosen. They could not jump over it, nor indeed get across it
at all without getting wet, scratched, and muddy. They halted, wondering
what to do. 'First check!' said Pippin, smiling grimly.
Sam Gamgee looked back. Through an opening in the trees he caught a
glimpse of the top of the green bank from which they had climbed down.
'Look!' he said, clutching Frodo by the arm. They all looked, and on
the edge high above them they saw against the sky a horse standing. Beside
it stooped a black figure.
They at once gave up any idea of going back. Frodo led the way, and
plunged quickly into the thick bushes beside the stream. 'Whew!' he said to
Pippin. 'We were both right! The short cut has gone crooked already; but we
got under cover only just in time. You've got sharp ears, Sam: can you hear
anything coming?'
They stood still, almost holding their breath as they listened; but
there was no sound of pursuit. 'I don't fancy he would try bringing his
horse down that bank,' said Sam. 'But I guess he knows we came down it. We
had better be going on.'
Going on was not altogether easy. They had packs to carry, and the
bushes and brambles were reluctant to let them through. They were cut off
from the wind by the ridge behind, and the air was still and stuffy. When
they forced their way at last into more open ground, they were hot and tired
and very scratched, and they were also no longer certain of the direction in
which they were going. The banks of the stream sank, as it reached the
levels and became broader and shallower, wandering off towards the Marish
and the River.
'Why, this is the Stock-brook!' said Pippin. 'If we are going to try
and get back on to our course, we must cross at once and bear right.'
They waded the stream, and hurried over a wide open space, rush-grown
and treeless, on the further side. Beyond that they came again to a belt of
trees: tall oaks, for the most part, with here and there an elm tree or an
ash. The ground was fairly level, and there was little undergrowth; but the
trees were loo close for them to see far ahead. The leaves blew upwards in
sudden gusts of wind, and spots of rain began to fall from the overcast sky.
Then the wind died away and the rain came streaming down. They trudged
along
as fast as they could, over patches of grass, and through thick drifts of
old leaves; and all about them the rain pattered and trickled. They did not
talk, but kept glancing back, and from side to side.
After half an hour Pippin said: 'I hope we have not turned too much
towards the south, and are not walking longwise through this wood! It is not
a very broad belt --I should have said no more than a mile at the widest -
and we ought to have been through it by now.'
'It is no good our starting to go in zig-zags,' said Frodo. 'That won't
mend matters. Let us keep on as we are going! I am not sure that I want to
come out into the open yet.'
They went on for perhaps another couple of miles. Then the sun gleamed
out of ragged clouds again and the rain lessened. It was now past mid-day,
and they felt it was high time for lunch. They halted under an elm tree: its
leaves though fast turning yellow were still thick, and the ground at its
feel was fairly dry and sheltered. When they came to make their meal, they
found that the Elves had filled their bottles with a clear drink, pale
golden in colour: it had the scent of a honey made of many flowers, and was
wonderfully refreshing. Very soon they were laughing, and snapping their
fingers at rain, and at Black Riders. The last few miles, they felt, would
soon be behind them.
Frodo propped his back against the tree-trunk, and closed his eyes. Sam
and Pippin sat near, and they began to hum, and then to sing softly:
Ho! Ho! Ho! to the bottle I go
To heal my heart and drown my woe.
Rain may fall and wind may blow,
And many miles be still to go,
But under a tall tree I will lie,
And let the clouds go sailing by.
Ho! Ho! Ho! they began again louder. They stopped short suddenly. Frodo
sprang to his feet. A long-drawn wail came down the wind, like the cry of
some evil and lonely creature. It rose and fell, and ended on a high
piercing note. Even as they sat and stood, as if suddenly frozen, it was
answered by another cry, fainter and further off, but no less chilling to
the blood. There was then a silence, broken only by the sound of the wind in
the leaves.
'And what do you think that was?' Pippin asked at last, trying to speak
lightly, but quavering a little. 'If it was a bird, it was one that I never
heard in the Shire before.'
'It was not bird or beast,' said Frodo. 'It was a call, or a signal --
there were words in that cry, though I could not catch them. But no hobbit
has such a voice.'
No more was said about it. They were all thinking of the Riders, but no
one spoke of them. They were now reluctant either to stay or go on; but
sooner or later they had got to get across the open country to the Ferry,
and it was best to go sooner and in daylight. In a few moments they had
shouldered their packs again and were off.
Before long the wood came to a sudden end. Wide grass-lands stretched
before them. They now saw that they had, in fact, turned too much to the
south. Away over the flats they could glimpse the low hill of Bucklebury
across the River, but it was now to their left. Creeping cautiously out from
the edge of the trees, they set off across the open as quickly as they
could.
At first they felt afraid, away from the shelter of the wood. Far back
behind them stood the high place where they had breakfasted. Frodo half
expected to see the small distant figure of a horseman on the ridge dark
against the sky; but there was no sign of one. The sun escaping from the
breaking clouds, as it sank towards the hills they had left, was now shining
brightly again. Their fear left them, though they still felt uneasy. But the
land became steadily more tame and well-ordered. Soon they came into
well-tended fields and meadows: there were hedges and gates and dikes for
drainage. Everything seemed quiet and peaceful, just an ordinary corner of
the Shire. Their spirits rose with every step. The line of the River grew
nearer; and the Black Riders began to seem like phantoms of the woods now
left far behind.
They passed along the edge of a huge turnip-field, and came to a stout
gate. Beyond it a rutted lane ran between low well-laid hedges towards a
distant clump of trees. Pippin stopped.
'I know these fields and this gate!' he said. 'This is Bamfurlong, old
Farmer Maggot's land. That's his farm away there in the trees.'
'One trouble after another!' said Frodo, looking nearly as much alarmed
as if Pippin had declared the lane was the slot leading to a dragon's den.
The others looked at him in surprise.
'What's wrong with old Maggot?' asked Pippin. 'He's a good friend to
all the Brandy bucks. Of course he's a terror to trespassers, and keeps
ferocious dogs - but after all, folk down here are near the border and have
to be more on their guard.'
'I know,' said Frodo. 'But all the same,' he added with a shamefaced
laugh, 'I am terrified of him and his dogs. I have avoided his farm for
years and years. He caught me several times trespassing after mushrooms,
when I was a youngster at Brandy Hall. On the last occasion he beat me, and
then took me and showed me to his dogs. "See, lads," he said, "next time
this young varmint sets foot on my land, you can eat him. Now see him off!"
They chased me all the way to the Ferry. I have never got over the fright -
though I daresay the beasts knew their business and would not really have
touched me.'
Pippin laughed. 'Well, it's time you made it up. Especially if you are
coming back to live in Buckland. Old Maggot is really a stout fellow - if
you leave his mushrooms alone. Let's get into the lane and then we shan't be
trespassing. If we meet him, I'll do the talking. He is a friend of Merry's,
and I used to come here with him a good deal at one time.'
They went along the lane, until they saw the thatched roofs of a large
house and farm-buildings peeping out among the trees ahead. The Maggots,
and
the Puddifoots of Stock, and most of the inhabitants of the Marish, were
house-dwellers; and this farm was stoutly built of brick and had a high wall
all round it. There was a wide wooden gate opening out of the wall into the
lane.
Suddenly as they drew nearer a terrific baying and barking broke out,
and a loud voice was heard shouting: 'Grip! Fang! Wolf! Come on, lads!'
Frodo and Sam stopped dead, but Pippin walked on a few paces. The gate
opened and three huge dogs came pelting out into the lane, and dashed
towards the travellers, barking fiercely. They took no notice of Pippin; but
Sam shrank against the wall, while two wolvish-looking dogs sniffed at him
suspiciously, and snarled if he moved. The largest and most ferocious of the
three halted in front of Frodo, bristling and growling.
Through the gate there now appeared a broad thick-set hobbit with a
round red face. 'Hallo! Hallo! And who may you be, and what may you be
wanting?' he asked.
'Good afternoon, Mr. Maggot!' said Pippin.
The farmer looked at him closely. 'Well, if it isn't Master Pippin -
Mr. Peregrin Took, I should say!' he cried, changing from a scowl to a grin.
'It's a long time since I saw you round here. It's lucky for you that I know
you. I was just going out to set my dogs on any strangers. There are some
funny things going on today. Of course, we do get queer folk wandering in
these parts at times. Too near the River,' he said, shaking his head. 'But
this fellow was the most outlandish I have ever set eyes on. He won't cross
my land without leave a second time, not if I can stop it.'
'What fellow do you mean?' asked Pippin.
'Then you haven't seen him?' said the farmer. 'He went up the lane
towards the causeway not a long while back. He was a funny customer and
asking funny questions. But perhaps you'll come along inside, and we'll pass
the news more comfortable. I've a drop of good ale on tap, if you and your
friends are willing, Mr. Took.'
It seemed plain that the farmer would tell them more, if allowed to do
it in his own time and fashion, so they all accepted the invitation. 'What
about the dogs?' asked Frodo anxiously.
The farmer laughed. 'They won't harm you - not unless I tell 'em to.
Here, Grip! Fang! Heel!' he cried. 'Heel, Wolf!' To the relief of Frodo and
Sam, the dogs walked away and let them go free.
Pippin introduced the other two to the farmer. 'Mr. Frodo Baggins,' he
said. 'You may not remember him, but he used to live at Brandy Hall.' At the
name Baggins the farmer started, and gave Frodo a sharp glance. For a moment
Frodo thought that the memory of stolen mushrooms had been aroused, and
that
the dogs would be told to see him off. But Farmer Maggot took him by the
arm.
'Well, if that isn't queerer than ever?' he exclaimed. 'Mr. Baggins is
it? Come inside! We must have a talk.'
They went into the farmer's kitchen, and sat by the wide fire-place.
Mrs. Maggot brought out beer in a huge jug, and filled four large mugs. It
was a good brew, and Pippin found himself more than compensated for
missing
the Golden Perch. Sam sipped his beer suspiciously. He had a natural
mistrust of the inhabitants of other parts of the Shire; and also he was not
disposed to be quick friends with anyone who had beaten his master, however
long ago.
After a few remarks about the weather and the agricultural prospects
(which were no worse than usual), Farmer Maggot put down his mug and
looked
at them all in turn.
'Now, Mr. Peregrin,' he said, 'where might you be coming from, and
where might you be going to? Were you coming to visit' me? For, if so, you
had gone past my gate without my seeing you.'
'Well, no,' answered Pippin. 'To tell you the truth, since you have
guessed it, we got into the lane from the other end: we had come over your
fields. But that was quite by accident. We lost our way in the woods, back
near Woodhall, trying to take a short cut to the Ferry.'
'If you were in a hurry, the road would have served you better,' said
the farmer. 'But I wasn't worrying about that. You have leave to walk over
my land, if you have a mind, Mr. Peregrin. And you, Mr. Baggins - though I
daresay you still like mushrooms.' He laughed. 'Ah yes, I recognized the
name. I recollect the time when young Frodo Baggins was one of the worst
young rascals of Buckland. But it wasn't mushrooms I was thinking of. I had
just heard the name Baggins before you turned up. What do you think that
funny customer asked me?'
They waited anxiously for him to go on. 'Well,' the farmer continued,
approaching his point with slow relish, 'he came riding on a big black horse
in at the gate, which happened to be open, and right up to my door. All
black he was himself, too, and cloaked and hooded up, as if he did not want
to be known. "Now what in the Shire can he want?" I thought to myself. We
don't see many of the Big Folk over the border; and anyway I had never heard
of any like this black fellow.
' "Good-day to you!" I says, going out to him. "This lane don't lead
anywhere, and wherever you may be going, your quickest way will be back to
the road." I didn't like the looks of him; and when Grip came out, he took
one sniff and let out a yelp as if he had been slung: he put down his tail
and bolted off howling. The black fellow sat quite still.
' "I come from yonder," he said, slow and stiff-like, pointing back
west, over my fields, if you please. "Have you seen Baggins?" he asked in a
queer voice, and bent down towards me. I could not see any face, for his
hood fell down so low; and I felt a sort of shiver down my back. But I did
not see why he should come riding over my land so bold.
' "Be off!" I said. "There are no Bagginses here. You're in the wrong
part of the Shire. You had better go back west to Hobbiton - but you can go
by road this time."
' "Baggins has left," he answered in a whisper. "He is coming. He is
not far away. I wish to find him. If he passes will you tell me? I will come
back with gold."
' "No you won't," I said. "You'll go back where you belong, double
quick. I give you one minute before I call all my dogs."
'He gave a sort of hiss. It might have been laughing, and it might not.
Then he spurred his great horse right at me, and I jumped out of the way
only just in time. I called the dogs, but he swung off, and rode through the
gate and up the lane towards the causeway like a bolt of thunder. What do
you think of that?'
Frodo sat for a moment looking at the fire, but his only thought was
how on earth would they reach the Ferry. 'I don't know what to think,' he
said at last.
'Then I'll tell you what to think,' said Maggot. 'You should never have
gone mixing yourself up with Hobbiton folk, Mr. Frodo. Folk are queer up
there.' Sam stirred in his chair, and looked at the farmer with an
unfriendly eye. 'But you were always a reckless lad. When I heard you had
left the Brandybucks and gone off to that old Mr. Bilbo, I said that you
were going to find trouble. Mark my words, this all comes of those strange
doings of Mr. Bilbo's. His money was got in some strange fashion in foreign
parts, they say. Maybe there is some that want to know what has become of
the gold and jewels that he buried in the hill of Hobbiton, as I hear?'
Frodo said nothing: the shrewd guesses of the farmer were rather
disconcerting.
'Well, Mr. Frodo,' Maggot went on, 'I'm glad that you've had the sense
to come back to Buckland. My advice is: stay there! And don't get mixed up
with these outlandish folk. You'll have friends in these parts. If any of
these black fellows come after you again, I'll deal with them. I'll say
you're dead, or have left the Shire, or anything you like. And that might be
true enough; for as like as not it is old Mr. Bilbo they want news of.'
'Maybe you're right,' said Frodo, avoiding the farmer's eye and staring
at the fire.
Maggot looked at him thoughtfully. 'Well, I see you have ideas of your
own,' he said. 'It is as plain as my nose that no accident brought you and
that rider here on the same afternoon; and maybe my news was no great news
to you, after all. I am not asking you to tell me anything you have a mind
to keep to yourself; but I see you are in some kind of trouble. Perhaps you
are thinking it won't be too easy to get to the Ferry without being caught?'
'I was thinking so,' said Frodo. 'But we have got to try and get there;
and it won't be done by sitting and thinking. So I am afraid we must be
going. Thank you very much indeed for your kindness! I've been in terror of
you and your dogs for over thirty years, Farmer Maggot, though you may laugh
to hear it. It's a pity: for I've missed a good friend. And now I'm sorry to
leave so soon. But I'll come back, perhaps, one day - if I get a chance.'
'You'll be welcome when you come,' said Maggot. 'But now I've a notion.
It's near sundown already, and we are going to have our supper; for we
mostly go to bed soon after the Sun. If you and Mr. Peregrin and all could
stay and have a bite with us, we would be pleased!'
'And so should we!' said Frodo. 'But we must be going at once, I'm
afraid. Even now it will be dark before we can reach the Ferry.'
'Ah! but wait a minute! I was going to say: after a bit of supper, I'll
gel out a small waggon, and I'll drive you all to the Ferry. That will save
you a good step, and it might also save you trouble of another sort.'
Frodo now accepted the invitation gratefully, to the relief of Pippin
and Sam. The sun was already behind the western hills, and the light was
failing. Two of Maggot's sons and his three daughters came in, and a
generous supper was laid on the large table. The kitchen was lit with
candles and the fire was mended. Mrs. Maggot hustled in and out. One or two
other hobbits belonging to the farm-household came in. In a short while
fourteen sat down to eat. There was beer in plenty, and a mighty dish of
mushrooms and bacon, besides much other solid farmhouse fare. The dogs lay
by the fire and gnawed rinds and cracked bones.
When they had finished, the farmer and his sons went out with a lantern
and got the waggon ready. It was dark in the yard, when the guests came out.
They threw their packs on board and climbed in. The farmer sat in the
driving-seat, and whipped up his two stout ponies. His wife stood in the
light of the open door.
'You be careful of yourself. Maggot!' she called. 'Don't go arguing
with any foreigners, and come straight back!'
'I will!' said he, and drove out of the gate. There was now no breath
of wind stirring; the night was still and quiet, and a chill was in the air.
They went without lights and took it slowly. After a mile or two the lane
came to an end, crossing a deep dike, and climbing a short slope up on to
the high-banked causeway.
Maggot got down and took a good look either way, north and south, but
nothing could be seen in the darkness, and there was not a sound in the
still air. Thin strands of river-mist were hanging above the dikes, and
crawling over the fields.
'It's going to be thick,' said Maggot; 'but I'll not light my lantern
till I turn for home. We'll hear anything on the road long before we meet it
tonight.'
It was five miles or more from Maggot's lane to the Ferry. The hobbits
wrapped themselves up, but their ears were strained for any sound above the
creak of the wheels and the slow clop of the ponies' hoofs. The waggon
seemed slower than a snail to Frodo. Beside him Pippin was nodding towards
sleep; but Sam was staring forwards into the rising fog.
They reached the entrance to the Ferry lane at last. It was marked by
two tall white posts that suddenly loomed up on their right. Farmer Maggot
drew in his ponies and the waggon creaked to a halt. They were just
beginning lo scramble out, when suddenly they heard what they had all been
dreading: hoofs on the road ahead. The sound was coming towards them.
Maggot jumped down and stood holding the ponies' heads, and peering
forward into the gloom. Clip-clop, clip-clop came the approaching rider. The
fall of the hoofs sounded loud in the still, foggy air.
'You'd better be hidden, Mr. Frodo,' said Sam anxiously. 'You get down
in the waggon and cover up with blankets, and we'll send this rider to the
rightabouts!' He climbed out and went to the farmer's side. Black Riders
would have to ride over him to get near the waggon.
Clop-clop, clop-clop. The rider was nearly on them.
'Hallo there!' called Farmer Maggot. The advancing hoofs stopped short.
They thought they could dimly guess a dark cloaked shape in the mist, a yard
or two ahead. 'Now then!' said the farmer, throwing the reins to Sam and
striding forward. 'Don't you come a step nearer! What do you want, and where
are you going?'
'I want Mr. Baggins. Have you seen him?' said a muffled voice - but the
voice was the voice of Merry Brandybuck. A dark lantern was uncovered, and
its light fell on the astonished face of the farmer.
'Mr. Merry!' he cried.
'Yes, of course! Who did you think it was?' said Merry coming forward.
As he came out of the mist and their fears subsided, he seemed suddenly to
diminish to ordinary hobbit-size. He was riding a pony, and a scarf was
swathed round his neck and over his chin to keep out the fog.
Frodo sprang out of the waggon to greet him. 'So there you are at
last!' said Merry. 'I was beginning to wonder if you would turn up at all
today, and I was just going back to supper. When it grew foggy I came across
and rode up towards Stock to see if you had fallen in any ditches. But I'm
blest if I know which way you have come. Where did you find them, Mr.
Maggot? In your duck-pond?'
'No, I caught 'em trespassing,' said the farmer, 'and nearly set my
dogs on 'em; but they'll tell you all the story, I've no doubt. Now, if
you'll excuse me, Mr. Merry and Mr. Frodo and all, I'd best be turning for
home. Mrs. Maggot will be worriting with the night getting thick.'
He backed the waggon into the lane and turned it. 'Well, good night to
you all,' he said. 'It's been a queer day, and no mistake. But all's well as
ends well; though perhaps we should not say that until we reach our own
doors. I'll not deny that I'll be glad now when I do.' He lit his lanterns,
and got up. Suddenly he produced a large basket from under the seat. 'I was
nearly forgetting,' he said. 'Mrs. Maggot put this up for Mr. Baggins, with
her compliments.' He handed it down and moved off, followed by a chorus of
thanks and good-nights.
They watched the pale rings of light round his lanterns as they
dwindled into the foggy night. Suddenly Frodo laughed: from the covered
basket he held, the scent of mushrooms was rising
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The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 10 - Strider (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 15 - The Ring Goes South (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 20 - The Great River (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 21 - The Breaking of the Fellowship (1)


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Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked
'Now we had better get home ourselves,' said Merry. There's something
funny about all this, I see; but it must wait till we get in.'
They turned down the Ferry lane, which was straight and well-kept and
edged with large white-washed stones. In a hundred yards or so it brought
them to the river-bank, where there was a broad wooden landing-stage. A
large flat ferry-boat was moored beside it. The white bollards near the
water's edge glimmered in the light of two lamps on high posts. Behind them
the mists in the flat fields were now above the hedges; but the water before
them was dark, with only a few curling wisps like steam among the reeds by
the bank. There seemed to be less fog on the further side.
Merry led the pony over a gangway on to the ferry, and the others
followed. Merry then pushed slowly off with a long pole. The Brandywine
flowed slow and broad before them. On the other side the bank was steep, and
up it a winding path climbed from the further landing. Lamps were twinkling
there. Behind loomed up the Buck Hill; and out of it, through stray shrouds
of mist, shone many round windows, yellow and red. They were the windows
of
Brandy Hall, the ancient home of the Brandybucks.
Long ago Gorhendad Oldbuck, head of the Oldbuck family, one of the
oldest in the Marish or indeed in the Shire, had crossed the river, which
was the original boundary of the land eastwards. He built (and excavated)
Brandy Hall, changed his name to Brandybuck, and settled down to become
master of what was virtually a small independent country. His family grew
and grew, and after his days continued to grow, until Brandy Hall occupied
the whole of the low hill, and had three large front-doors, many side-doors,
and about a hundred windows. The Brandybucks and their numerous
dependants
then began to burrow, and later to build, all round about. That was the
origin of Buckland, a thickly inhabited strip between the river and the Old
Forest, a sort of colony from the Shire. Its chief village was Bucklebury,
clustering in the banks and slopes behind Brandy Hall.
The people in the Marish were friendly with the Bucklanders, and the
authority of the Master of the Hall (as the head of the Brandybuck family
was called) was still acknowledged by the farmers between Stock and Rushey.
But most of the folk of the old Shire regarded the Bucklanders as peculiar,
half foreigners as it were. Though, as a matter of fact, they were not very
different from the other hobbits of the Four Farthings. Except in one point:
they were fond of boats, and some of them could swim.
Their land was originally unprotected from the East; but on that side
they had built a hedge: the High Hay. It had been planted many generations
ago, and was now thick and tail, for it was constantly tended. It ran all
the way from Brandywine Bridge, in a big loop curving away from the river,
to Haysend (where the Withywindle flowed out of the Forest into the
Brandywine): well over twenty miles from end to end. But, of course, it was
not a complete protection. The Forest drew close to the hedge in many
places. The Bucklanders kept their doors locked after dark, and that also
was not usual in the Shire.
The ferry-boat moved slowly across the water. The Buckland shore drew
nearer. Sam was the only member of the party who had not been over the river
before. He had a strange feeling as the slow gurgling stream slipped by: his
old life lay behind in the mists, dark adventure lay in front. He scratched
his head, and for a moment had a passing wish that Mr. Frodo could have gone
on living quietly at Bag End.
The four hobbits stepped off the ferry. Merry was tying it up, and
Pippin was already leading the pony up the path, when Sam (who had been
looking back, as if to take farewell of the Shire) said in a hoarse whisper:
'Look back, Mr. Frodo! Do you see anything?'
On the far stage, under the distant lamps, they could just make out a
figure: it looked like a dark black bundle left behind. But as they looked
it seemed to move and sway this way and that, as if searching the ground. It
then crawled, or went crouching, back into the gloom beyond the lamps.
'What in the Shire is that?' exclaimed Merry.
'Something that is following us,' said Frodo. 'But don't ask any more
now! Let's get away at once!' They hurried up the path to the top of the
bank, but when they looked back the far shore was shrouded in mist, and
nothing could be seen.
'Thank goodness you don't keep any boats on the west-bank!' said Frodo.
'Can horses cross the river?'
'They can go twenty miles north to Brandywine Bridge - or they might
swim,' answered Merry. 'Though I never heard of any horse swimming the
Brandywine. But what have horses to do with it?' I'll tell you later. Let's
get indoors and then we can talk.'
'All right! You and Pippin know your way; so I'll just ride on and tell
Fatty Bolger that you are coming. We'll see about supper and things.'
'We had our supper early with Farmer Maggot,' said Frodo; 'but we could
do with another.'
'You shall have it! Give me that basket!' said Merry, and rode ahead
into the darkness.
It was some distance from the Brandywine to Frodo's new house at
Crickhollow. They passed Buck Hill and Brandy Hall on their left, and on the
outskirts of Bucklebury struck the main road of Buckland that ran south from
the Bridge. Half a mile northward along this they came to a lane opening on
their right. This they followed for a couple of miles as it climbed up and
down into the country.
At last they came to a narrow gate in a thick hedge. Nothing could be
seen of the house in the dark: it stood back from the lane in the middle of
a wide circle of lawn surrounded by a belt of low trees inside the outer
hedge. Frodo had chosen it, because it stood in an out-of-the-way corner of
the country, and there were no other dwellings close by. You could get in
and out without being noticed. It had been built a long while before by the
Brandybucks, for the use of guests, or members of the family that wished to
escape from the crowded life of Brandy Hall for a time. It was an
old-fashioned countrified house, as much like a hobbit-hole as possible: it
was long and low, with no upper storey; and it had a roof of turf, round
windows, and a large round door.
As they walked lip the green path from the gate no light was visible;
the windows were dark and shuttered. Frodo knocked on the door, and Fatty
Bolger opened it. A friendly light streamed out. They slipped in quickly and
shut themselves and the light inside. They were in a wide hall with doors on
either side; in front of them a passage ran back down the middle of the
house.
'Well, what do you think of it?' asked Merry coming up the passage. 'We
have done our best in a short time to make it look like home. After all
Fatty and I only got here with the last cart-load yesterday.'
Frodo looked round. It did look like home. Many of his own favourite
things - or Bilbo's things (they reminded him sharply of him in their new
selling) - were arranged as nearly as possible as they had been at Bag End.
It was a pleasant, comfortable, welcoming place; and he found himself
wishing that he was really coming here to settle down in quiet retirement.
It seemed unfair to have put his friends to all this trouble; and he
wondered again how he was going to break the news to them that he must leave
them so soon, indeed at once. Yet that would have to be done that very
night, before they all went to bed.
'It's delightful!' he said with an effort. 'I hardly feel that I have
moved at all.'
The travellers hung up their cloaks, and piled their packs on the
floor. Merry led them down the passage and threw open a door at the far end.
Firelight came out, and a puff of steam.
'A bath!' cried Pippin. 'O blessed Meriadoc!'
'Which order shall we go in?' said Frodo. 'Eldest first, or quickest
first? You'll be last either way, Master Peregrin.'
'Trust me to arrange things better than that!' said Merry. 'We can't
begin life at Crickhollow with a quarrel over baths. In that room there are
three tubs, and a copper full of boiling water. There are also towels, mats
and soap. Get inside, and be quick!'
Merry and Fatty went into the kitchen on the other side of the passage,
and busied themselves with the final preparations for a late supper.
Snatches of competing songs came from the bathroom mixed with the sound
of
splashing and wallowing. The voice of Pippin was suddenly lifted up above
the others in one of Bilbo's favourite bath-songs.
Sing hey! for the bath at close of day
that washes the weary mud away!
A loon is he that will not sing:
O! Water Hot is a noble thing!
O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain,
and the brook that leaps from hill to plain;
but better than rain or rippling streams
is Water Hot that smokes and steams.
O! Water cold we may pour at need
down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed;
but better is Beer, if drink we lack,
and Water Hot poured down the back.
O! Water is fair that leaps on high
in a fountain white beneath the sky;
but never did fountain sound so sweet
as splashing Hot Water with my feet!
There was a terrific splash, and a shout of Whoa! from Frodo. It
appeared that a lot of Pippin's bath had imitated a fountain and leaped on
high.
Merry went to the door: 'What about supper and beer in the throat?' he
called. Frodo came out drying his hair.
'There's so much water in the air that I'm coming into the kitchen to
finish,' he said.
'Lawks!' said Merry, looking in. The stone floor was swimming. 'You
ought to mop all that up before you get anything to eat. Peregrin,' he said.
'Hurry up, or we shan't wait for you.'
They had supper in the kitchen on a table near the fire. 'I suppose you
three won't want mushrooms again?' said Fredegar without much hope.
'Yes we shall!' cried Pippin.
'They're mine!' said Frodo. 'Given to me by Mrs. Maggot, a queen among
farmers' wives. Take your greedy hands away, and I'll serve them.'
Hobbits have a passion for mushrooms, surpassing even the greediest
likings of Big People. A fact which partly explains young Frodo's long
expeditions to the renowned fields of the Marish, and the wrath of the
injured Maggot. On this occasion there was plenty for all, even according to
hobbit standards. There were also many other things to follow, and when they
had finished even Fatty Bolger heaved a sigh of content. They pushed back
the table, and drew chairs round the fire.
'We'll clear up later,' said Merry. 'Now tell me all about it! I guess
that you have been having adventures, which was not quite fair without me. I
want a full account; and most of all I want to know what was the matter with
old Maggot, and why he spoke to me like that. He sounded almost as if he was
scared, if that is possible.'
'We have all been scared,' said Pippin after a pause, in which Frodo
stared at the fire and did not speak. 'You would have been, too, if you had
been chased for two days by Black Riders.'
'And what are they?'
'Black figures riding on black horses,' answered Pippin. 'If Frodo
won't talk, I will tell you the whole tale from the beginning.' He then gave
a full account of their journey from the time when they left Hobbiton. Sam
gave various supporting nods and exclamations. Frodo remained silent.
'I should think you were making it all up,' said Merry, 'if I had not
seen that black shape on the landing-stage - and heard the queer sound in
Maggot's voice. What do you make of it all, Frodo?'
'Cousin Frodo has been very close,' said Pippin. 'But the time has come
for him to open out. So far we have been given nothing more to go on than
Farmer Maggot's guess that it has something to do with old Bilbo's
treasure.'
'That was only a guess,' said Frodo hastily. 'Maggot does not know
anything.'
'Old Maggot is a shrewd fellow,' said Merry. 'A lot goes on behind his
round face that does not come out in his talk. I've heard that he used to go
into the Old Forest at one time, and he has the reputation of knowing a good
many strange things. But you can at least tell us, Frodo, whether you think
his guess good or bad.'
'I think,' answered Frodo slowly, 'that it was a good guess, as far as
it goes. There is a connexion with Bilbo's old adventures, and the Riders
are looking, or perhaps one ought to say searching, for him or for me. I
also fear, if you want to know, that it is no joke at all; and that I am not
safe here or anywhere else.' He looked round at the windows and walls, as if
he was afraid they would suddenly give way. The others looked at him in
silence, and exchanged meaning glances among themselves.
'It's coming out in a minute,' whispered Pippin to Merry. Merry nodded.
'Well!' said Frodo at last, sitting up and straightening his back, as
if he had made a decision. 'I can't keep it dark any longer. I have got
something to tell you all. But I don't know quite how to begin.'
'I think I could help you,' said Merry quietly, 'by telling you some of
it myself.'
'What do you mean?' said Frodo, looking at him anxiously. 'Just this,
my dear old Frodo: you are miserable, because you don't know how to say
good-bye. You meant to leave the Shire, of course. But danger has come on
you sooner than you expected, and now you are making up your mind to go at
once. And you don't want to. We are very sorry for you.'
Frodo opened his mouth and shut it again. His look of surprise was so
comical that they laughed. 'Dear old Frodo!' said Pippin. 'Did you really
think you had thrown dust in all our eyes? You have not been nearly careful
or clever enough for that! You have obviously been planning to go and saying
farewell to all your haunts all this year since April. We have constantly
heard you muttering: "Shall I ever look down into that valley again, I
wonder", and things like that. And pretending that you had come to the end
of your money, and actually selling your beloved Bag End to those
Sackville-Bagginses! And all those close talks with Gandalf.'
'Good heavens!' said Frodo. 'I thought I had been both careful and
clever. I don't know what Gandalf would say. Is all the Shire discussing my
departure then?'
'Oh no!' said Merry. 'Don't worry about that! The secret won't keep for
long, of course; but at present it is, I think, only known to us
conspirators. After all, you must remember that we know you well, and are
often with you. We can usually guess what you are thinking. I knew Bilbo,
too. To tell you the truth, I had been watching you rather closely ever
since he left. I thought you would go after him sooner or later; indeed I
expected you to go sooner, and lately we have been very anxious. We have
been terrified that you might give us the slip, and go off suddenly, all on
your own like he did. Ever since this spring we have kept our eyes open, and
done a good deal of planning on our own account. You are not going to escape
so easily!'
'But I must go,' said Frodo. 'It cannot be helped, dear friends. It is
wretched for us all, but it is no use your trying to keep me. Since you have
guessed so much, please help me and do not hinder me!'
'You do not understand!' said Pippin. 'You must go - and therefore we
must, too. Merry and I are coming with you. Sam is an excellent fellow, and
would jump down a dragon's throat to save you, if he did not trip over his
own feet; but you will need more than one companion in your dangerous
adventure.'
'My dear and most beloved hobbits!' said Frodo deeply moved. 'But I
could not allow it. I decided that long ago, too. You speak of danger, but
you do not understand. This is no treasure-hunt, no there-and-back journey.
I am flying from deadly peril into deadly peril.'
'Of course we understand,' said Merry firmly. 'That is why we have
decided to come. We know the Ring is no laughing-matter; but we are going to
do our best to help you against the Enemy.'
'The Ring!' said Frodo, now completely amazed.
'Yes, the Ring,' said Merry. 'My dear old hobbit, you don't allow for
the inquisitiveness of friends. I have known about the existence of the Ring
for years - before Bilbo went away, in fact; but since he obviously regarded
it as secret, I kept the knowledge in my head, until we formed our
conspiracy. I did not know Bilbo, of course, as well as I know you; I was
too young, and he was also more careful - but he was not careful enough. If
you want to know how I first found out, I will tell you.'
'Go on!' said Frodo faintly.
'It was the Sackville-Bagginses that were his downfall, as you might
expect. One day, a year before the Party, I happened to be walking along the
road, when I saw Bilbo ahead. Suddenly in the distance the S.-B.s appeared,
coming towards us. Bilbo slowed down, and then hey presto! he vanished. I
was so startled that I hardly had the wits to hide myself in a more ordinary
fashion; but I got through the hedge and walked along the field inside. I
was peeping through into the road, after the S.-B.s had passed, and was
looking straight at Bilbo when he suddenly reappeared. I caught a glint of
gold as he put something back in his trouser-pocket.
'After that I kept my eyes open. In fact, I confess that I spied. But
you must admit that it was very intriguing, and I was only in my teens. I
must be the only one in the Shire, besides you Frodo, that has ever seen the
old fellow's secret book.'
'You have read his book!' cried Frodo. 'Good heavens above! Is nothing
safe?'
'Not too safe, I should say,' said Merry. 'But I have only had one
rapid glance, and that was difficult to get. He never left the book about. I
wonder what became of it. I should like another look. Have you got it,
Frodo?'
'No. It was not at Bag End. He must have taken it away.'
'Well, as I was saying,' Merry proceeded, 'I kept my knowledge to
myself, till this Spring when things got serious. Then we formed our
conspiracy; and as we were serious, too, and meant business, we have not
been too scrupulous. You are not a very easy nut to crack, and Gandalf is
worse. But if you want to be introduced to our chief investigator, I can
produce him.'
'Where is he?' said Frodo, looking round, as if he expected a masked
and sinister figure to come out of a cupboard.
'Step forward, Sam!' said Merry; and Sam stood up with a face scarlet
up to the ears. 'Here's our collector of information! And he collected a
lot, I can tell you, before he was finally caught. After which, I may say,
he seemed to regard himself as on parole, and dried up.'
'Sam!' cried Frodo, feeling that amazement could go no further, and
quite unable to decide whether he felt angry, amused, relieved, or merely
foolish.
'Yes, sir!' said Sam. 'Begging your pardon, sir! But I meant no wrong
to you, Mr. Frodo, nor to Mr. Gandalf for that matter. He has some sense,
mind you; and when you said go alone, he said no! lake someone as you can
trust.'
'But it does not seem that I can trust anyone,' said Frodo. Sam looked
at him unhappily. 'It all depends on what you want,' put in Merry. 'You can
trust us to stick to you through thick and thin - to the bitter end. And you
can trust us to keep any secret of yours - closer than you keep it yourself.
But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a
word. We are your friends, Frodo. Anyway: there it is. We know most of what
Gandalf has told you. We know a good deal about the Ring. We are horribly
afraid - but we are coming with you; or following you like hounds.'
'And after all, sir,' added Sam, 'you did ought to take the Elves'
advice. Gildor said you should take them as was willing, and you can't deny
it.'
'I don't deny it,' said Frodo, looking at Sam, who was now grinning. 'I
don't deny it, but I'll never believe you are sleeping again, whether you
snore or not. I shall kick you hard to make sure.
'You are a set of deceitful scoundrels!' he said, turning to the
others. 'But bless you!' he laughed, getting up and waving his arms, 'I give
in. I will take Gildor's advice. If the danger were not so dark, I should
dance for joy. Even so, I cannot help feeling happy; happier than I have
felt for a long time. I had dreaded this evening.'
'Good! That's settled. Three cheers for Captain Frodo and company!'
they shouted; and they danced round him. Merry and Pippin began a song,
which they had apparently got ready for the occasion.
It was made on the model of the dwarf-song that started Bilbo on his
adventure long ago, and went to the same tune:
Farewell we call to hearth and hall!
Though wind may blow and rain may fall,
We must away ere break of day
Far over wood and mountain tall.
To Rivendell, where Elves yet dwell
In glades beneath the misty fell,
Through moor and waste we ride in haste,
And whither then we cannot tell.
With foes ahead, behind us dread,
Beneath the sky shall be our bed,
Until at last our toil be passed,
Our journey done, our errand sped.
We must away! We must away!
We ride before the break of day!
'Very good!' said Frodo. 'But in that case there are a lot of things to
do before we go to bed - under a roof, for tonight at any rate.'
'Oh! That was poetry!' said Pippin. 'Do you really mean to start before
the break of day?'
'I don't know,' answered Frodo. 'I fear those Black Riders, and I am
sure it is unsafe to stay in one place long, especially in a place to which
it is known I was going. Also Gildor advised me not to wait. But I should
very much like to see Gandalf. I could see that even Gildor was disturbed
when he heard that Gandalf had never appeared. It really depends on two
things. How soon could the Riders get to Bucklebury? And how soon could
we
get off? It will take a good deal of preparation.'
'The answer to the second question,' said Merry, 'is that we could get
off in an hour. I have prepared practically everything. There are six ponies
in a stable across the fields; stores and tackle are all packed, except for
a few extra clothes, and the perishable food.'
'It seems to have been a very efficient conspiracy,' said Frodo. 'But
what about the Black Riders? Would it be safe to wait one day for Gandalf?'
'That all depends on what you think the Riders would do, if they found
you here,' answered Merry. 'They could have reached here by now, of course,
if they were not stopped at the North-gate, where the Hedge runs down to the
river-bank, just this side of the Bridge. The gate-guards would not let them
through by night, though they might break through. Even in the daylight they
would try to keep them out, I think, at any rate until they got a message
through to the Master of the Hall - for they would not like the look of the
Riders, and would certainly be frightened by them. But, of course, Buckland
cannot resist a determined attack for long. And it is possible that in the
morning even a Black Rider that rode up and asked for Mr. Baggins would be
let through. It is pretty generally known that you are coming back to live
at Crickhollow.'
Frodo sat for a while in thought. 'I have made up my mind,' he said
finally. 'I am starting tomorrow, as soon as it is light. But I am not going
by road: it would be safer to wait here than that. If I go through the
North-gate my departure from Buckland will be known at once, instead of
being secret for several days at least, as it might be. And what is more,
the Bridge and the East Road near the borders will certainly be watched,
whether any Rider gets into Buckland or not. We don't know how many there
are; but there are at least two, and possibly more. The only thing to do is
to go off in a quite unexpected direction.'
'But that can only mean going into the Old Forest!' said Fredegar
horrified. 'You can't be thinking of doing that. It is quite as dangerous as
Black Riders.'
'Not quite,' said Merry. It sounds very desperate, but I believe Frodo
is right. It is the only way of getting off without being followed at once.
With luck we might gel a considerable start.'
'But you won't have any luck in the Old Forest,' objected Fredegar. 'No
one ever has luck in there. You'll gel lost. People don't go in there.'
'Oh yes they do!' said Merry. 'The Brandybucks go in - occasionally
when the fit takes them. We have a private entrance. Frodo went in once,
long ago. I have been in several times: usually in daylight, of course, when
the trees are sleepy and fairly quiet.'
'Well, do as you think best!' said Fredegar. 'I am more afraid of the
Old Forest than of anything I know about: the stories about it are a
nightmare; but my vote hardly counts, as I am not going on the journey.
Still, I am very glad someone is stopping behind, who can tell Gandalf what
you have done, when he turns up, as I am sure he will before long.'
Fond as he was of Frodo, Fatty Bolger had no desire to leave the Shire,
nor to see what lay outside it. His family came from the Eastfarthing, from
Budgeford in Bridgefields in fact, but he had never been over the Brandywine
Bridge. His task, according to the original plans of the conspirators, was
to stay behind and deal with inquisitive folk, and to keep up as long as
possible the pretence that Mr. Baggins was still living at Crickhollow. He
had even brought along some old clothes of Frodo's to help him in playing
the part. They little thought how dangerous that part might prove.
'Excellent!' said Frodo, when he understood the plan. 'We could not
have left any message behind for Gandalf otherwise. I don't know whether
these Riders can read or not, of course, but I should not have dared to risk
a written message, in case they got in and searched the house. But if Fatty
is willing to hold the fort, and I can be sure of Gandalf knowing the way we
have gone, that decides me. I am going into the Old Forest first thing
tomorrow.'
'Well, that's that,' said Pippin. 'On the whole I would rather have our
job than Fatty's - waiting here till Black Riders come.'
'You wait till you are well inside the Forest,' said Fredegar. 'You'll
wish you were back here with me before this time tomorrow.'
'It's no good arguing about it any more,' said Merry. 'We have still
got to tidy up and put the finishing touches to the packing, before we get
to bed. I shall call you all before the break of day.'
When at last he had got to bed, Frodo could not sleep for some time.
His legs ached. He. was glad that he was riding in the morning. Eventually
he fell into a vague dream, in which he seemed to be looking out of a high
window over a dark sea of tangled trees. Down below among the roots there
was the sound of creatures crawling and snuffling. He felt sure they would
smell him out sooner or later.
Then he heard a noise in the distance. At first he thought it was a
great wind coming over the leaves of the forest. Then he knew that it was
not leaves, but the sound of the Sea far-off; a sound he had never heard in
waking life, though it had often troubled his dreams. Suddenly he found he
was out in the open. There were no trees after all. He was on a dark heath,
and there was a strange salt smell in the air. Looking up he saw before him
a tall white tower, standing alone on a high ridge. A great desire came over
him to climb the tower and see the Sea. He started to struggle up the ridge
towards the tower: but suddenly a light came in the sky, and there was a
noise of thunder.
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The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 10 - Strider (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 15 - The Ring Goes South (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 20 - The Great River (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 21 - The Breaking of the Fellowship (1)


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Showing posts with label The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest. Show all posts
Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest
Frodo woke suddenly. It was still dark in the room. Merry was standing
there with a candle in one hand, and banging on the door with the other.
'All right! What is it?' said Frodo, still shaken and bewildered.
'What is it!' cried Merry. 'It is time to get up. It is half past four
and very foggy. Come on! Sam is already getting breakfast ready. Even Pippin
is up. I am just going to saddle the ponies, and fetch the one that is to be
the baggage-carrier. Wake that sluggard Fatty! At least he must get up and
see us off.'
Soon after six o'clock the five hobbits were ready to start. Fatty
Bolger was still yawning. They stole quietly out of the house. Merry went in
front leading a laden pony, and took his way along a path that went through
a spinney behind the house, and then cut across several fields. The leaves
of trees were glistening, and every twig was dripping; the grass was grey
with cold dew. Everything was still, and far-away noises seemed near and
clear: fowls chattering in a yard, someone closing a door of a distant
house.
In their shed they found the ponies; sturdy little beasts of the kind
loved by hobbits, not speedy, but good for a long day's work. They mounted,
and soon they were riding off into the mist, which seemed to open
reluctantly before them and close forbiddingly behind them. After riding for
about an hour, slowly and without talking, they saw the Hedge looming
suddenly ahead. It was tall and netted over with silver cobwebs. 'How are
you going to get through this?' asked Fredegar. 'Follow me!' said Merry,
'and you will see.' He turned to the left along the Hedge, and soon they
came to a point where it bent inwards, running along the lip of a hollow. A
cutting had been made, at some distance from the Hedge, and went sloping
gently down into the ground. It had walls of brick at the sides, which rose
steadily, until suddenly they arched over and formed a tunnel that dived
deep under the Hedge and came out in the hollow on the other side.
Here Fatty Bolger halted. 'Good-bye, Frodo!' he said. 'I wish you were
not going into the Forest. I only hope you will not need rescuing before the
day is out. But good luck to you - today and every day!'
'If there are no worse things ahead than the Old Forest, I shall be
lucky,' said Frodo. 'Tell Gandalf to hurry along the East Road: we shall
soon be back on it and going as fast as we can.' 'Good-bye!' they cried, and
rode down the slope and disappeared from Fredegar's sight into the tunnel.
It was dark and damp. At the far end it was closed by a gate of
thick-set iron bars. Merry got down and unlocked the gate, and when they had
all passed through he pushed it to again. It shut with a clang, and the lock
clicked. The sound was ominous.
'There!' said Merry. 'You have left the Shire, and are now outside, and
on the edge of the Old Forest.'
'Are the stories about it true?' asked Pippin.
'I don't know what stories you mean,' Merry answered. 'If you mean the
old bogey-stories Fatty's nurses used to tell him, about goblins and wolves
and things of that sort, I should say no. At any rate I don't believe them.
But the Forest is queer. Everything in it is very much more alive, more
aware of what is going on, so to speak, than things are in the Shire. And
the trees do not like strangers. They watch you. They are usually content
merely to watch you, as long as daylight lasts, and don't do much.
Occasionally the most unfriendly ones may drop a branch, or stick a root
out, or grasp at you with a long trailer. But at night things can be most
alarming, or so I am told. I have only once or twice been in here after
dark, and then only near the hedge. I thought all the trees were whispering
to each other, passing news and plots along in an unintelligible language;
and the branches swayed and groped without any wind. They do say the trees
do actually move, and can surround strangers and hem them in. In fact long
ago they attacked the Hedge: they came and planted themselves right by it,
and leaned over it. But the hobbits came and cut down hundreds of trees, and
made a great bonfire in the Forest, and burned all the ground in a long
strip east of the Hedge. After that the trees gave up the attack, but they
became very unfriendly. There is still a wide bare space not far inside
where the bonfire was made.'
'Is it only the trees that are dangerous?' asked Pippin.
'There are various queer things living deep in the Forest, and on the
far side,' said Merry, 'or at least I have heard so; but I have never seen
any of them. But something makes paths. Whenever one comes inside one
finds
open tracks; but they seem to shift and change from time to time in a queer
fashion. Not far from this tunnel there is, or was for a long time, the
beginning of quite a broad path leading to the Bonfire Glade, and then on
more or less in our direction, east and a little north. That is the path I
am going to try and find.'
The hobbits now left the tunnel-gate and rode across the wide hollow.
On the far side was a faint path leading up on to the floor of the Forest, a
hundred yards and more beyond the Hedge; but it vanished as soon as it
brought them under the trees. Looking back they could see the dark line of
the Hedge through the stems of trees that were already thick about them.
Looking ahead they could see only tree-trunks of innumerable sizes and
shapes: straight or bent, twisted, leaning, squat or slender, smooth or
gnarled and branched; and all the stems were green or grey with moss and
slimy, shaggy growths.
Merry alone seemed fairly cheerful. 'You had better lead on and find
that path,' Frodo said to him. 'Don't let us lose one another, or forget
which way the Hedge lies!'
They picked a way among the trees, and their ponies plodded along,
carefully avoiding the many writhing and interlacing roots. There was no
undergrowth. The ground was rising steadily, and as they went forward it
seemed that the trees became taller, darker, and thicker. There was no
sound, except an occasional drip of moisture falling through the still
leaves. For the moment there was no whispering or movement among the
branches; but they all got an uncomfortable feeling that they were being
watched with disapproval, deepening to dislike and even enmity. The feeling
steadily grew, until they found themselves looking up quickly, or glancing
back over their shoulders, as if they expected a sudden blow.
There was not as yet any sign of a path, and the trees seemed
constantly to bar their way. Pippin suddenly felt that he could not bear it
any longer, and without warning let out a shout. 'Oi! Oi!' he cried. 'I am
not going to do anything. Just let me pass through, will you!'
The others halted startled; but the cry fell as if muffled by a heavy
curtain. There was no echo or answer though the wood seemed to become
more
crowded and more watchful than before.
'I should not shout, if I were you,' said Merry. It does more harm than
good.'
Frodo began to wonder if it were possible to find a way through, and if
he had been right to make the others come into this abominable wood. Merry
was looking from side to side, and seemed already uncertain which way to go.
Pippin noticed it. 'It has not taken you long to lose us,' he said. But at
that moment Merry gave a whistle of relief and pointed ahead.
'Well, well!' he said. 'These trees do shift. There is the Bonfire
Glade in front of us (or I hope so), but the path to it seems to have moved
away!'
The light grew clearer as they went forward. Suddenly they came out of
the trees and found themselves in a wide circular space. There was sky above
them, blue and clear to their surprise, for down under the Forest-roof they
had not been able to see the rising morning and the lifting of the mist. The
sun was not, however, high enough yet to shine down into the clearing,
though its light was on the tree-tops. The leaves were all thicker and
greener about the edges of the glade, enclosing it with an almost solid
wall. No tree grew there, only rough grass and many tall plants: stalky and
faded hemlocks and wood-parsley, fire-weed seeding into fluffy ashes, and
rampant nettles and thistles. A dreary place: but it seemed a charming and
cheerful garden after the close Forest.
The hobbits felt encouraged, and looked up hopefully at the broadening
daylight in the sky. At the far side of the glade there was a break in the
wall of trees, and a clear path beyond it. They could see it running on into
the wood, wide in places and open above, though every now and again the
trees drew in and overshadowed it with their dark boughs. Up this path they
rode. They were still climbing gently, but they now went much quicker, and
with better heart; for it seemed to them that the Forest had relented, and
was going to let them pass unhindered after all.
But after a while the air began to get hot and stuffy. The trees drew
close again on either side, and they could no longer see far ahead. Now
stronger than ever they felt again the ill will of the wood pressing on
them. So silent was it that the fall of their ponies' hoofs, rustling on
dead leaves and occasionally stumbling on hidden roots, seemed to thud in
their ears. Frodo tried to sing a song to encourage them, but his voice sank
to a murmur.
O! Wanderers in the shadowed land
despair not! For though dark they stand,
all woods there be must end at last,
and see the open sun go past:
the setting sun, the rising sun,
the day's end, or the day begun.
For east or west all woods must fail...
Fail - even as he said the word his voice faded into silence. The air
seemed heavy and the making of words wearisome. Just behind them a large
branch fell from an old overhanging tree with a crash into the path. The
trees seemed to close in before them.
'They do not like all that about ending and failing,' said Merry. 'I
should not sing any more at present. Wait till we do get to the edge, and
then we'll turn and give them a rousing chorus!'
He spoke cheerfully, and if he felt any great anxiety, he did not show
it. The others did not answer. They were depressed. A heavy weight was
settling steadily on Frodo's heart, and he regretted now with every step
forward that he had ever thought of challenging the menace of the trees. He
was, indeed, just about to stop and propose going back (if that was still
possible), when things took a new turn. The path stopped climbing, and
became for a while nearly level. The dark trees drew aside, and ahead they
could see the path going almost straight forward. Before them, but some
distance off, there stood a green hill-top, treeless, rising like a bald
head out of the encircling wood. The path seemed to be making directly for
it.
They now hurried forward again, delighted with the thought of climbing
out for a while above the roof of the Forest. The path dipped, and then
again began to climb upwards, leading them at last to the foot of the steep
hillside. There it left the trees and faded into the turf. The wood stood
all round the hill like thick hair that ended sharply in a circle round a
shaven crown.
The hobbits led their ponies up, winding round and round until they
reached the top. There they stood and gazed about them. The air was gleaming
and sunlit, but hazy; and they could not see to any great distance. Near at
hand the mist was now almost gone; though here and there it lay in hollows
of the wood, and to the south of them, out of a deep fold cutting right
across the Forest, the fog still rose like steam or wisps of white smoke.
'That,' said Merry, pointing with his hand, 'that is the line of the
Withywindle. It comes down out of the Downs and flows south-west through
the
midst of the Forest to join the Brandywine below Haysend. We don't want to
go that way! The Withywindle valley is said to be the queerest part of the
whole wood - the centre from which all the queerness comes, as it were.'
The others looked in the direction that Merry pointed out, but they
could see little but mists over the damp and deep-cut valley; and beyond it
the southern half of the Forest faded from view.
The sun on the hill-lop was now getting hot. It must have been about
eleven o'clock; but the autumn haze still prevented them from seeing much in
other directions. In the west they could not make out either the line of the
Hedge or the valley of the Brandywine beyond it. Northward, where they
looked most hopefully, they could see nothing that might be the line of the
great East Road, for which they were making. They were on an island in a sea
of trees, and the horizon was veiled.
On the south-eastern side the ground fell very steeply, as if the
slopes of the hill were continued far down under the trees, like
island-shores that really are the sides of a mountain rising out of deep
waters. They sat on the green edge and looked out over the woods below them,
while they ate their mid-day meal. As the sun rose and passed noon they
glimpsed far off in the east the grey-green lines of the Downs that lay
beyond the Old Forest on that side. That cheered them greatly; for it was
good to see a sight of anything beyond the wood's borders, though they did
not mean to go that way, if they could help it: the Barrow-downs had as
sinister a reputation in hobbit-legend as the Forest itself.
At length they made up their minds to go on again. The path that had
brought them to the hill reappeared on the northward side; but they had not
followed it far before they became aware that it was bending steadily to the
right. Soon it began to descend rapidly and they guessed that it must
actually be heading towards the Withywindle valley: not at all the direction
they wished lo take. After some discussion they decided to leave this
misleading path and strike northward; for although they had not been able to
see it from the hill-top, the Road must lie that way, and it could not be
many miles off. Also northward, and to the left of the path, the land seemed
lo be drier and more open, climbing up to slopes where the trees were
thinner, and pines and firs replaced the oaks and ashes and other strange
and nameless trees of the denser wood.
At first their choice seemed to be good: they got along at a fair
speed, though whenever they got a glimpse of the sun in an open glade they
seemed unaccountably to have veered eastwards. But after a time the trees
began to close in again, just where they had appeared from a distance to be
thinner and less tangled. Then deep folds in the ground were discovered
unexpectedly, like the ruts of great giant-wheels or wide moats and sunken
roads long disused and choked with brambles. These lay usually right across
their line of march, and could only be crossed by scrambling down and out
again, which was troublesome and difficult with their ponies. Each time they
climbed down they found the hollow filled with thick bushes and matted
undergrowth, which somehow would not yield to the left, but only gave way
when they turned to the right; and they had to go some distance along the
bottom before they could find a way up the further bank. Each time they
clambered out, the trees seemed deeper and darker; and always to the left
and upwards it was most difficult to find a way, and they were forced to the
right and downwards.
After an hour or two they had lost all clear sense of direction, though
they knew well enough that they had long ceased to go northward at all. They
were being headed off, and were simply following a course chosen for them -
eastwards and southwards, into the heart of the Forest and not out of it.
The afternoon was wearing away when they scrambled and stumbled into a
fold that was wider and deeper than any they had yet met. It was so sleep
and overhung that it proved impossible to climb out of it again, either
forwards or backwards, without leaving their ponies and their baggage
behind. All they could do was to follow the fold - downwards. The ground
grew soft, and in places boggy; springs appeared in the banks, and soon they
found themselves following a brook that trickled and babbled through a weedy
bed. Then the ground began to fall rapidly, and the brook growing strong and
noisy, flowed and leaped swiftly downhill. They were in a deep dim-lit gully
over-arched by trees high above them.
After stumbling along for some way along the stream, they came quite
suddenly out of the gloom. As if through a gate they saw the sunlight before
them. Coming to the opening they found that they had made their way down
through a cleft in a high sleep bank, almost a cliff. At its feet was a wide
space of grass and reeds; and in the distance could be glimpsed another bank
almost as steep. A golden afternoon of late sunshine lay warm and drowsy
upon the hidden land between. In the midst of it there wound lazily a dark
river of brown water, bordered with ancient willows, arched over with
willows, blocked with fallen willows, and flecked with thousands of faded
willow-leaves. The air was thick with them, fluttering yellow from the
branches; for there was a warm and gentle breeze blowing softly in the
valley, and the reeds were rustling, and the willow-boughs were creaking.
'Well, now I have at least some notion of where we are!' said Merry.
'We have come almost in the opposite direction to which we intended. This is
the River Withywindle! I will go on and explore.'
He passed out into the sunshine and disappeared into the long grasses.
After a while he reappeared, and reported that there was fairly solid ground
between the cliff-foot and the river; in some places firm turf went down to
the water's edge. 'What's more,' he said, 'there seems to be something like
a footpath winding along on this side of the river. If we turn left and
follow it, we shall be bound to come out on the east side of the Forest
eventually.'
'I dare say!' said Pippin. 'That is, if the track goes on so far, and
does not simply lead us into a bog and leave us there. Who made the track,
do you suppose, and why? I am sure it was not for our benefit. I am getting
very suspicious of this Forest and everything in it, and I begin to believe
all the stories about it. And have you any idea how far eastward we should
have to go?'
'No,' said Merry, 'I haven't. I don't know in the least how far down
the Withywindle we are, or who could possibly come here often enough to
make
a path along it. But there is no other way out that I can see or think of.'
There being nothing else for it, they filed out, and Merry led them to
the path that he had discovered. Everywhere the reeds and grasses were lush
and tall, in places far above their heads; but once found, the path was easy
to follow, as it turned and twisted, picking out the sounder ground among
the bogs and pools. Here and there it passed over other rills, running down
gullies into the Withywindle out of the higher forest-lands, and at these
points there were tree-trunks or bundles of brushwood laid carefully across.
The hobbits began to feel very hot. There were armies of flies of all
kinds buzzing round their ears, and the afternoon sun was burning on their
backs. At last they came suddenly into a thin shade; great grey branches
reached across the path. Each step forward became more reluctant than the
last. Sleepiness seemed to be creeping out of the ground and up their legs,
and falling softly out of the air upon their heads and eyes.
Frodo felt his chin go down and his head nod. Just in front of him
Pippin fell forward on to his knees. Frodo halted. 'It's no good,' he heard
Merry saying. 'Can't go another step without rest. Must have nap. It's cool
under the willows. Less flies!'
Frodo did not like the sound of this. 'Come on!' he cried. 'We can't
have a nap yet. We must get clear of the Forest first.' But the others were
too far gone to care. Beside them Sam stood yawning and blinking stupidly.
Suddenly Frodo himself felt sleep overwhelming him. His head swam.
There now seemed hardly a sound in the air. The flies had stopped buzzing.
Only a gentle noise on the edge of hearing, a soft fluttering as of a song
half whispered, seemed to stir in the boughs above. He lifted his heavy eyes
and saw leaning over him a huge willow-tree, old and hoary. Enormous it
looked, its sprawling branches going up like reaching arms with many
long-fingered hands, its knotted and twisted trunk gaping in wide fissures
that creaked faintly as the boughs moved. The leaves fluttering against the
bright sky dazzled him, and he toppled over, lying where he fell upon the
grass.
Merry and Pippin dragged themselves forward and lay down with their
backs to the willow-trunk. Behind them the great cracks gaped wide to
receive them as the tree swayed and creaked. They looked up at the grey and
yellow leaves, moving softly against the light, and singing. They shut their
eyes, and then it seemed that they could almost hear words, cool words,
saying something about water and sleep. They gave themselves up to the spell
and fell fast asleep at the foot of the great grey willow.
Frodo lay for a while fighting with the sleep that was overpowering
him; then with an effort he struggled to his feel again. He felt a
compelling desire for cool water. 'Wait for me, Sam,' he stammered. 'Must
bathe feet a minute.'
Half in a dream he wandered forward to the riverward side of the tree,
where great winding roots grew out into the stream, like gnarled dragonets
straining down to drink. He straddled one of these, and paddled his hot feel
in the cool brown water; and there he too suddenly fell asleep with his back
against the tree.
Sam sat down and scratched his head, and yawned like a cavern. He was
worried. The afternoon was getting late, and he thought this sudden
sleepiness uncanny. 'There's more behind this than sun and warm air,' he
muttered to himself. 'I don't like this great big tree. I don't trust it.
Hark at it singing about sleep now! This won't do at all!'
He pulled himself to his feet, and staggered off to see what had become
of the ponies. He found that two had wandered on a good way along the path;
and he had just caught them and brought them back towards the others, when
he heard two noises; one loud, and the other soft but very clear. One was
the splash of something heavy falling into the water; the other was a noise
like the snick of a lock when a door quietly closes fast.
He rushed back to the bank. Frodo was in the water close to the edge,
and a great tree-root seemed to be over him and holding him down, but he was
not struggling. Sam gripped him by the jacket, and dragged him from under
the root; and then with difficulty hauled him on to the bank. Almost at once
he woke, and coughed and spluttered.
'Do you know, Sam,' he said at length, 'the beastly tree threw me in! I
felt it. The big root just twisted round and tipped me in!'
'You were dreaming I expect, Mr. Frodo,' said Sam. 'You shouldn't sit
in such a place, if you feel sleepy.'
'What about the others?' Frodo asked. 'I wonder what sort of dreams
they are having.'
They went round to the other side of the tree, and then Sam understood
the click that he had heard. Pippin had vanished. The crack by which he had
laid himself had closed together, so that not a chink could be seen. Merry
was trapped: another crack had closed about his waist; his legs lay outside,
but the rest of him was inside a dark opening, the edges of which gripped
like a pair of pincers.
Frodo and Sam beat first upon the tree-trunk where Pippin had lain.
They then struggled frantically to pull open the jaws of the crack that held
poor Merry. It was quite useless.
'What a foul thing to happen!' cried Frodo wildly. 'Why did we ever
come into this dreadful Forest? I wish we were all back at Crickhollow!' He
kicked the tree with all his strength, heedless of his own feet. A hardly
perceptible shiver ran through the stem and up into the branches; the leaves
rustled and whispered, but with a sound now of faint and far-off laughter.
'I suppose we haven't got an axe among our luggage, Mr. Frodo?' asked
Sam.
'I brought a little hatchet for chopping firewood,' said Frodo. 'That
wouldn't be much use.'
'Wait a minute!' cried Sam, struck by an idea suggested by firewood.
'We might do something with fire!'
'We might,' said Frodo doubtfully. 'We might succeed in roasting Pippin
alive inside.'
'We might try to hurt or frighten this tree to begin with,' said Sam
fiercely. 'If it don't let them go, I'll have it down, if I have to gnaw
it.' He ran to the ponies and before long came back with two tinder-boxes
and a hatchet.
Quickly they gathered dry grass and leaves, and bits of bark; and made
a pile of broken twigs and chopped sticks. These they heaped against the
trunk on the far side of the tree from the prisoners. As soon as Sam had
struck a spark into the tinder, it kindled the dry grass and a flurry of
flame and smoke went up. The twigs crackled. Little fingers of fire licked
against the dry scored rind of the ancient tree and scorched it. A tremor
ran through the whole willow. The leaves seemed to hiss above their heads
with a sound of pain and anger. A loud scream came from Merry, and from far
inside the tree they heard Pippin give a muffled yell.
'Put it out! Put it out!' cried Merry. 'He'll squeeze me in two, if you
don't. He says so!'
'Who? What?' shouted Frodo, rushing round to the other side of the
tree.
'Put it out! Put it out!' begged Merry. The branches of the willow
began to sway violently. There was a sound as of a wind rising and spreading
outwards to the branches of all the other trees round about, as though they
had dropped a stone into the quiet slumber of the river-valley and set up
ripples of anger that ran out over the whole Forest. Sam kicked at the
little fire and stamped out the sparks. But Frodo, without any clear idea of
why he did so, or what he hoped for, ran along the path crying help! help!
help! It seemed to him that he could hardly hear the sound of his own shrill
voice: it was blown away from him by the willow-wind and drowned in a
clamour of leaves, as soon as the words left his mouth. He felt desperate:
lost and witless.
Suddenly he slopped. There was an answer, or so he thought; but it
seemed to come from behind him, away down the path further back in the
Forest. He turned round and listened, and soon there could be no doubt:
someone was singing a song; a deep glad voice was singing carelessly and
happily, but it was singing nonsense:
Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo!
Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow!
Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!
Half hopeful and half afraid of some new danger, Frodo and Sam now both
stood still. Suddenly out of a long string of nonsense-words (or so they
seemed) the voice rose up loud and clear and burst into this song:
Hey! Come merry dot! derry dol! My darling!
Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling.
Down along under Hill, shining in the sunlight,
Waiting on the doorstep for the cold starlight,
There my pretty lady is. River-woman's daughter,
Slender as the willow-wand, clearer than the water.
Old Tom Bombadil water-lilies bringing
Comes hopping home again. Can you hear him singing?
Hey! Come merry dol! deny dol! and merry-o,
Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o!
Poor old Willow-man, you tuck your roots away!
Tom's in a hurry now. Evening will follow day.
Tom's going home again water-lilies bringing.
Hey! Come derry dol! Can you hear me singing?
Frodo and Sam stood as if enchanted. The wind puffed out. The leaves
hung silently again on stiff branches. There was another burst of song, and
then suddenly, hopping and dancing along the path, there appeared above the
reeds an old battered hat with a tall crown and a long blue feather stuck in
the band. With another hop and a bound there came into view a man, or so it
seemed. At any rate he was too large and heavy for a hobbit, if not quite
tall enough for one of the Big People, though he made noise enough for one,
slumping along with great yellow boots on his thick legs, and charging
through grass and rushes like a cow going down to drink. He had a blue coat
and a long brown beard; his eyes were blue and bright, and his face was red
as a ripe apple, but creased into a hundred wrinkles of laughter. In his
hands he carried on a large leaf as on a tray a small pile of white
water-lilies.
'Help!' cried Frodo and Sam running towards him with their hands
stretched out.
'Whoa! Whoa! steady there!' cried the old man, holding up one hand, and
they stopped short, as if they had been struck stiff. 'Now, my little
fellows, where be you a-going to, puffing like a bellows? What's the matter
here then? Do you know who I am? I'm Tom Bombadil. Tell me what's
your
trouble! Tom's in a hurry now. Don't you crush my lilies!'
'My friends are caught in the willow-tree,' cried Frodo breathlessly.
'Master Merry's being squeezed in a crack!' cried Sam.
'What?' shouted Tom Bombadil, leaping up in the air. 'Old Man Willow?
Naught worse than that, eh? That can soon be mended. I know the tune for
him. Old grey Willow-man! I'll freeze his marrow cold, if he don't behave
himself. I'll sing his roots off. I'll sing a wind up and blow leaf and
branch away. Old Man Willow!' Setting down his lilies carefully on the
grass, he ran to the tree. There he saw Merry's feet still sticking out -
the rest had already been drawn further inside. Tom put his mouth to the
crack and began singing into it in a low voice. They could not catch the
words, but evidently Merry was aroused. His legs began to kick. Tom sprang
away, and breaking off a hanging branch smote the side of the willow with
it. 'You let them out again, Old Man Willow!' he said. 'What be you
a-thinking of? You should not be waking. Eat earth! Dig deep! Drink water!
Go to sleep! Bombadil is talking!' He then seized Merry's feet and drew him
out of the suddenly widening crack.
There was a tearing creak and the other crack split open, and out of it
Pippin sprang, as if he had been kicked. Then with a loud snap both cracks
closed fast again. A shudder ran through the tree from root to tip, and
complete silence fell.
'Thank you!' said the hobbits, one after the other.
Tom Bombadil burst out laughing. 'Well, my little fellows!' said he,
stooping so that he peered into their faces. 'You shall come home with me!
The table is all laden with yellow cream, honeycomb, and white bread and
butter. Goldberry is waiting. Time enough for questions around the supper
table. You follow after me as quick as you are able!' With that he picked up
his lilies, and then with a beckoning wave of his hand went hopping and
dancing along the path eastward, still singing loudly and nonsensically.
Too surprised and too relieved to talk, the hobbits followed after him
as fast as they could. But that was not fast enough. Tom soon disappeared in
front of them, and the noise of his singing got fainter and further away.
Suddenly his voice came floating back to them in a loud halloo!
Hop along, my little friends, up the Withywindle!
Tom's going on ahead candles for to kindle.
Down west sinks the Sun: soon you will be groping.
When the night-shadows fall, then the door will open,
Out of the window-panes light will twinkle yellow.
Fear no alder black! Heed no hoary willow!
Fear neither root nor bough! Tom goes on before you.
Hey now! merry dot! We'll be waiting for you!
After that the hobbits heard no more. Almost at once the sun seemed to
sink into the trees behind them. They thought of the slanting light of
evening glittering on the Brandywine River, and the windows of Bucklebury
beginning to gleam with hundreds of lights. Great shadows fell across them;
trunks and branches of trees hung dark and threatening over the path. White
mists began to rise and curl on the surface of the river and stray about the
roots of the trees upon its borders. Out of the very ground at their feet a
shadowy steam arose and mingled with the swiftly falling dusk.
It became difficult to follow the path, and they were very tired. Their
legs seemed leaden. Strange furtive noises ran among the bushes and reeds on
either side of them; and if they looked up to the pale sky, they caught
sight of queer gnarled and knobbly faces that gloomed dark against the
twilight, and leered down at them from the high bank and the edges of the
wood. They began to feel that all this country was unreal, and that they
were stumbling through an ominous dream that led to no awakening.
Just as they felt their feet slowing down to a standstill, they noticed
that the ground was gently rising. The water began to murmur. In the
darkness they caught the white glimmer of foam, where the river flowed over
a short fall. Then suddenly the trees came to an end and the mists were left
behind. They stepped out from the Forest, and found a wide sweep of grass
welling up before them. The river, now small and swift, was leaping merrily
down to meet them, glinting here and there in the light of the stars, which
were already shining in the sky.
The grass under their feet was smooth and short, as if it had been mown
or shaven. The eaves of the Forest behind were clipped, and trim as a hedge.
The path was now plain before them, well-tended and bordered with stone. It
wound up on to the top of a grassy knoll, now grey under the pale starry
night; and there, still high above them on a further slope, they saw the
twinkling lights of a house. Down again the path went, and then up again, up
a long smooth hillside of turf, towards the light. Suddenly a wide yellow
beam flowed out brightly from a door that was opened. There was Tom
Bombadil's house before them, up, down, under hill. Behind it a steep
shoulder of the land lay grey and bare, and beyond that the dark shapes of
the Barrow-downs stalked away into the eastern night.
They all hurried forward, hobbits and ponies. Already half their
weariness and all their fears had fallen from them. Hey! Come merry dol!
rolled out the song to greet them.
Hey! Come derry dol! Hop along, my hearties!
Hobbits! Ponies all! We are fond of parties.
Now let the fun begin! Let us sing together!
Then another clear voice, as young and as ancient as Spring, like the
song of a glad water flowing down into the night from a bright morning in
the hills, came falling like silver to meet them:
Now let the song begin! Let us sing together
Of sun, stars, moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather,
Light on the budding leaf, dew on the feather,
Wind on the open hill, bells on the heather,
Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water:
Old Tom Bombadil and the River-daughter!
And with that song the hobbits stood upon the threshold, and a golden
light was all about them.
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The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 10 - Strider (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 15 - The Ring Goes South (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 20 - The Great River (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 21 - The Breaking of the Fellowship (1)


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Showing posts with label The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil. Show all posts
Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil
The four hobbits stepped over the wide stone threshold, and stood
still, blinking. They were in a long low room, filled with the light of
lamps swinging from the beams of the roof; and on the table of dark polished
wood stood many candles, tall and yellow, burning brightly.
In a chair, at the far side of the room facing the outer door, sat a
woman. Her long yellow hair rippled down her shoulders; her gown was
green,
green as young reeds, shot with silver like beads of dew; and her belt was
of gold, shaped like a chain of flag-lilies set with the pale-blue eyes of
forget-me-nots. About her feel in wide vessels of green and brown
earthenware, white water-lilies were floating, so that she seemed to be
enthroned in the midst of a pool.
'Enter, good guests!' she said, and as she spoke they knew that it was
her clear voice they had heard singing. They came a few timid steps further
into the room, and began to bow low, feeling strangely surprised and
awkward, like folk that, knocking at a cottage door to beg for a drink of
water, have been answered by a fair young elf-queen clad in living flowers.
But before they could say anything, she sprang lightly up and over the
lily-bowls, and ran laughing towards them; and as she ran her gown rustled
softly like the wind in the flowering borders of a river.
'Come dear folk!' she said, taking Frodo by the hand. 'Laugh and be
merry! I am Goldberry, daughter of the River.' Then lightly she passed them
and closing the door she turned her back to it, with her white arms spread
out across it. 'Let us shut out the night!' she said. 'For you are still
afraid, perhaps, of mist and tree-shadows and deep water, and untame things.
Fear nothing! For tonight you are under the roof of Tom Bombadil.'
The hobbits looked at her in wonder; and she looked at each of them and
smiled. 'Fair lady Goldberry!' said Frodo at last, feeling his heart moved
with a joy that he did not understand. He stood as he had at times stood
enchanted by fair elven-voices; but the spell that was now laid upon him was
different: less keen and lofty was the delight, but deeper and nearer to
mortal heart; marvellous and yet not strange. 'Fair lady Goldberry!' he said
again. 'Now the joy that was hidden in the songs we heard is made plain to
me.
O slender as a willow-wand! O clearer than clear water!
O reed by the living pool! Fair River-daughter!
O spring-time and summer-time, and spring again after!
O wind on the waterfall, and the leaves' laughter!'
Suddenly he stopped and stammered, overcome with surprise to hear
himself saying such things. But Goldberry laughed.
'Welcome!' she said. 'I had not heard that folk of the Shire were so
sweet-tongued. But I see you are an elf-friend; the light in your eyes and
the ring in your voice tells it. This is a merry meeting! Sit now, and wait
for the Master of the house! He will not be long. He is tending your tired
beasts.'
The hobbits sat down gladly in low rush-seated chairs, while Goldberry
busied herself about the table; and their eyes followed her, for the slender
grace of her movement filled them with quiet delight. From somewhere behind
the house came the sound of singing. Every now and again they caught, among
many a derry dol and a merry dol and a ring a ding dillo the repeated words:
Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow;
Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.
'Fair lady!' said Frodo again after a while. 'Tell me, if my asking
does not seem foolish, who is Tom Bombadil?'
'He is,' said Goldberry, staying her swift movements and smiling.
Frodo looked at her questioningly. 'He is, as you have seen him,' she
said in answer to his look. 'He is the Master of wood, water, and hill.'
'Then all this strange land belongs to him?'
'No indeed!' she answered, and her smile faded. 'That would indeed be a
burden,' she added in a low voice, as if to herself. 'The trees and the
grasses and all things growing or living in the land belong each to
themselves. Tom Bombadil is the Master. No one has ever caught old Tom
walking in the forest, wading in the water, leaping on the hill-tops under
light and shadow. He has no fear. Tom Bombadil is master.'
A door opened and in came Tom Bombadil. He had now no hat and his
thick
brown hair was crowned with autumn leaves. He laughed, and going to
Goldberry, took her hand.
'Here's my pretty lady!' he said, bowing to the hobbits. 'Here's my
Goldberry clothed all in silver-green with flowers in her girdle! Is the
table laden? I see yellow cream and honeycomb, and white bread, and butter;
milk, cheese, and green herbs and ripe berries gathered. Is that enough for
us? Is the supper ready?'
'It is,' said Goldberry; 'but the guests perhaps are not?'
Tom clapped his hands and cried: 'Tom, Tom! your guests are tired, and
you had near forgotten! Come now, my merry friends, and Tom will refresh
you! You shall clean grimy hands, and wash your weary faces; cast off your
muddy cloaks and comb out your tangles!'
He opened the door, and they followed him down a short passage and
round a sharp turn. They came to a low room with a sloping roof (a
penthouse, it seemed, built on to the north end of the house). Its walls
were of clean stone, but they were mostly covered with green hanging mats
and yellow curtains. The floor was flagged, and strewn with fresh green
rushes. There were four deep mattresses, each piled with white blankets,
laid on the floor along one side. Against the opposite wall was a long bench
laden with wide earthenware basins, and beside it stood brown ewers filled
with water, some cold, some steaming hot. There were soft green slippers set
ready beside each bed.
Before long, washed and refreshed, the hobbits were seated at the
table, two on each side, while at either end sat Goldberry and the Master.
It was a long and merry meal. Though the hobbits ate, as only famished
hobbits can eat, there was no lack. The drink in their drinking-bowls seemed
to be clear cold water, yet it went to their hearts like wine and set free
their voices. The guests became suddenly aware that they were singing
merrily, as if it was easier and more natural than talking.
At last Tom and Goldberry rose and cleared the table swiftly. The
guests were commanded to sit quiet, and were set in chairs, each with a
footstool to his tired feet. There was a fire in the wide hearth before
them, and it was burning with a sweet smell, as if it were built of
apple-wood. When everything was set in order, all the lights in the room
were put out, except one lamp and a pair of candles at each end of the
chimney-shelf. Then Goldberry came and stood before them, holding a candle;
and she wished them each a good night and deep sleep.
'Have peace now,' she said, 'until the morning! Heed no nightly noises!
For nothing passes door and window here save moonlight and starlight and the
wind off the hill-top. Good night!' She passed out of the room with a
glimmer and a rustle. The sound of her footsteps was like a stream falling
gently away downhill over cool stones in the quiet of night.
Tom sat on a while beside them in silence, while each of them tried to
muster the courage to ask one of the many questions he had meant to ask at
supper. Sleep gathered on their eyelids. At last Frodo spoke:
'Did you hear me calling, Master, or was it just chance that brought
you at that moment?'
Tom stirred like a man shaken out of a pleasant dream. 'Eh, what?' said
he. 'Did I hear you calling? Nay, I did not hear: I was busy singing. Just
chance brought me then, if chance you call it. It was no plan of mine,
though I was waiting for you. We heard news of you, and learned that you
were wandering. We guessed you'd come ere long down to the water: all paths
lead that way, down to Withywindle. Old grey Willow-man, he's a mighty
singer; and it's hard for little folk to escape his cunning mazes. But Tom
had an errand there, that he dared not hinder.' Tom nodded as if sleep was
taking him again; but he went on in a soft singing voice:
I had an errand there: gathering water-lilies,
green leaves and lilies white to please my pretty lady,
the last ere the year's end to keep them from the winter,
to flower by her pretty feet tilt the snows are melted.
Each year at summer's end I go to find them for her,
in a wide pool, deep and clear, far down Withywindle;
there they open first in spring and there they linger latest.
By that pool long ago I found the River-daughter,
fair young Goldberry sitting in the rushes.
Sweet was her singing then, and her heart was beating!
He opened his eyes and looked at them with a sudden glint of blue:
And that proved well for you -- for now I shall no longer
go down deep again along the forest-water,
not while the year is old. Nor shall I be passing
Old Man Willow's house this side of spring-time,
not till the merry spring, when the River-daughter
dances down the withy-path to bathe in the water.
He fell silent again; but Frodo could not help asking one more
question: the one he most desired to have answered. 'Tell us, Master,' he
said, 'about the Willow-man. What is he? I have never heard of him before.'
'No, don't!' said Merry and Pippin together, sitting suddenly upright.
'Not now! Not until the morning!'
'That is right!' said the old man. 'Now is the time for resting. Some
things are ill to hear when the world's in shadow. Sleep till the
morning-light, rest on the pillow! Heed no nightly noise! Fear no grey
willow!' And with that he took down the lamp and blew it out, and grasping a
candle in either hand he led them out of the room.
Their mattresses and pillows were soft as down, and the blankets were
of white wool. They had hardly laid themselves on the deep beds and drawn
the light covers over them before they were asleep.
In the dead night, Frodo lay in a dream without light. Then he saw the
young moon rising; under its thin light there loomed before him a black wall
of rock, pierced by a dark arch like a great gate. It seemed to Frodo that
he was lifted up, and passing over he saw that the rock-wall was a circle of
hills, and that within it was a plain, and in the midst of the plain stood a
pinnacle of stone, like a vast tower but not made by hands. On its top stood
the figure of a man. The moon as it rose seemed to hang for a moment above
his head and glistened in his white hair as the wind stirred it. Up from the
dark plain below came the crying of fell voices, and the howling of many
wolves. Suddenly a shadow, like the shape of great wings, passed across the
moon. The figure lifted his arms and a light flashed from the staff that he
wielded. A mighty eagle swept down and bore him away. The voices wailed
and
the wolves yammered. There was a noise like a strong wind blowing, and on it
was borne the sound of hoofs, galloping, galloping, galloping from the East.
'Black Riders!' thought Frodo as he wakened, with the sound of the hoofs
still echoing in his mind. He wondered if he would ever again have the
courage to leave the safety of these stone walls. He lay motionless, still
listening; but all was now silent, and at last he turned and fell asleep
again or wandered into some other unremembered dream.
At his side Pippin lay dreaming pleasantly; but a change came over his
dreams and he turned and groaned. Suddenly he woke, or thought he had
waked,
and yet still heard in the darkness the sound that had disturbed his dream:
tip-tap, squeak: the noise was like branches fretting in the wind,
twig-fingers scraping wall and window: creak, creak, creak. He wondered if
there were willow-trees close to the house; and then suddenly he had a
dreadful feeling that he was not in an ordinary house at all, but inside the
willow and listening to that horrible dry creaking voice laughing at him
again. He sat up, and felt the soft pillows yield to his hands, and he lay
down again relieved. He seemed to hear the echo of words in his ears: 'Fear
nothing! Have peace until the morning! Heed no nightly noises!' Then he went
to sleep again.
It was the sound of water that Merry heard falling into his quiet
sleep: water streaming down gently, and then spreading, spreading
irresistibly all round the house into a dark shoreless pool. It gurgled
under the walls, and was rising slowly but surely. 'I shall be drowned!' he
thought. It will find its way in, and then I shall drown.' He felt that he
was lying in a soft slimy bog, and springing up he set his fool on the
corner of a cold hard flagstone. Then he remembered where he was and lay
down again. He seemed to hear or remember hearing: 'Nothing passes doors or
windows save moonlight and starlight and the wind off the hill-top.' A
little breath of sweet air moved the curtain. He breathed deep and fell
asleep again.
As far as he could remember, Sam slept through the night in deep
content, if logs are contented.
They woke up, all four at once, in the morning light. Tom was moving
about the room whistling like a starling. When he heard them stir he clapped
his hands, and cried: 'Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! My hearties!' He drew
back the yellow curtains, and the hobbits saw that these had covered the
windows, at either end of the room, one looking east and the other looking
west.
They leapt up refreshed. Frodo ran to the eastern window, and found
himself looking into a kitchen-garden grey with dew. He had half expected to
see turf right up to the walls, turf all pocked with hoof-prints. Actually
his view was screened by a tall line of beans on poles; but above and far
beyond them the grey top of the hill loomed up against the sunrise. It was a
pale morning: in the East, behind long clouds like lines of soiled wool
stained red at the edges, lay glimmering deeps of yellow. The sky spoke of
rain to come; but the light was broadening quickly, and the red flowers on
the beans began to glow against the wet green leaves.
Pippin looked out of the western window, down into a pool of mist. The
Forest was hidden under a fog. It was like looking down on to a sloping
cloud-roof from above. There was a fold or channel where the mist was broken
into many plumes and billows; the valley of the Withywindle. The stream ran
down the hill on the left and vanished into the white shadows. Near at hand
was a flower-garden and a clipped hedge silver-netted, and beyond that grey
shaven grass pale with dew-drops. There was no willow-tree to be seen.
'Good morning, merry friends!' cried Tom, opening the eastern window
wide. A cool air flowed in; it had a rainy smell. 'Sun won't show her face
much today. I'm thinking. I have been walking wide, leaping on the hilltops,
since the grey dawn began, nosing wind and weather, wet grass underfoot, wet
sky above me. I wakened Goldberry singing under window; but nought
wakes
hobbit-folk in the early morning. In the night little folk wake up in the
darkness, and sleep after light has come! Ring a ding dillo! Wake now, my
merry friends! Forget the nightly noises! Ring a ding dillo del! derry del,
my hearties! If you come soon you'll find breakfast on the table. If you
come late you'll get grass and rain-water!'
Needless to say - not that Tom's threat sounded very serious - the
hobbits came soon, and left the table late and only when it was beginning lo
look rather empty. Neither Tom nor Goldberry were there. Tom could be heard
about the house, clattering in the kitchen, and up and down the stairs, and
singing here and there outside. The room looked westward over the
mist-clouded valley, and the window was open. Water dripped down from the
thatched eaves above. Before they had finished breakfast the clouds had
joined into an unbroken roof, and a straight grey rain came softly and
steadily down. Behind its deep curtain the Forest was completely veiled.
As they looked out of the window there came falling gently as if it was
flowing down the rain out of the sky, the clear voice of Goldberry singing
up above them. They could hear few words, but it seemed plain to them that
the song was a rain-song, as sweet as showers on dry hills, that told the
tale of a river from the spring in the highlands to the Sea far below. The
hobbits listened with delight; and Frodo was glad in his heart, and blessed
the kindly weather, because it delayed them from departing. The thought of
going had been heavy upon him from the moment he awoke; but he guessed
now
that they would not go further that day.
The upper wind settled in the West and deeper and wetter clouds rolled
up to spill their laden rain on the bare heads of the Downs. Nothing could
be seen all round the house but falling water. Frodo stood near the open
door and watched the white chalky path turn into a little river of milk and
go bubbling away down into the valley. Tom Bombadil came trotting round
the
corner of the house, waving his arms as if he was warding off the rain - and
indeed when he sprang over the threshold he seemed quite dry, except for his
boots. These he took off and put in the chimney-corner. Then he sat in the
largest chair and called the hobbits to gather round him.
'This is Goldberry's washing day,' he said, 'and her autumn-cleaning.
Too wet for hobbit-folk - let them rest while they are able! It's a good day
for long tales, for questions and for answers, so Tom will start the
talking.'
He then told them many remarkable stories, sometimes half as if
speaking to himself, sometimes looking at them suddenly with a bright blue
eye under his deep brows. Often his voice would turn to song, and he would
get out of his chair and dance about. He told them tales of bees and
flowers, the ways of trees, and the strange creatures of the Forest, about
the evil things and good things, things friendly and things unfriendly,
cruel things and kind things, and secrets hidden under brambles.
As they listened, they began to understand the lives of the Forest,
apart from themselves, indeed to feel themselves as the strangers where all
other things were at home. Moving constantly in and out of his talk was Old
Man Willow, and Frodo learned now enough to content him, indeed more
than
enough, for it was not comfortable lore. Tom's words laid bare the hearts of
trees and their thoughts, which were often dark and strange, and filled with
a hatred of things that go free upon the earth, gnawing, biting, breaking,
hacking, burning: destroyers and usurpers. It was not called the Old Forest
without reason, for it was indeed ancient, a survivor of vast forgotten
woods; and in it there lived yet, ageing no quicker than the hills, the
fathers of the fathers of trees, remembering times when they were lords. The
countless years had filled them with pride and rooted wisdom, and with
malice. But none were more dangerous than the Great Willow: his heart was
rotten, but his strength was green; and he was cunning, and a master of
winds, and his song and thought ran through the woods on both sides of the
river. His grey thirsty spirit drew power out of the earth and spread like
fine root-threads in the ground, and invisible twig-fingers in the air, till
it had under its dominion nearly all the trees of the Forest from the Hedge
to the Downs.
Suddenly Tom's talk left the woods and went leaping up the young
stream, over bubbling waterfalls, over pebbles and worn rocks, and among
small flowers in close grass and wet crannies, wandering at last up on to
the Downs. They heard of the Great Barrows, and the green mounds, and the
stone-rings upon the hills and in the hollows among the hills. Sheep were
bleating in flocks. Green walls and white walls rose. There were fortresses
on the heights. Kings of little kingdoms fought together, and the young Sun
shone like fire on the red metal of their new and greedy swords. There was
victory and defeat; and towers fell, fortresses were burned, and flames went
up into the sky. Gold was piled on the biers of dead kings and queens; and
mounds covered them, and the stone doors were shut; and the grass grew over
all. Sheep walked for a while biting the grass, but soon the hills were
empty again. A shadow came out of dark places far away, and the bones were
stirred in the mounds. Barrow-wights walked in the hollow places with a
clink of rings on cold fingers, and gold chains in the wind.' Stone rings
grinned out of the ground like broken teeth in the moonlight.
The hobbits shuddered. Even in the Shire the rumour of the
Barrow-wights of the Barrow-downs beyond the Forest had been heard. But it
was not a tale that any hobbit liked to listen to, even by a comfortable
fireside far away. These four now suddenly remembered what the joy of this
house had driven from their minds: the house of Tom Bombadil nestled under
the very shoulder of those dreaded hills. They lost the thread of his tale
and shifted uneasily, looking aside at one another.
When they caught his words again they found that he had now wandered
into strange regions beyond their memory and beyond their waking thought,
into limes when the world was wider, and the seas flowed straight to the
western Shore; and still on and back Tom went singing out into ancient
starlight, when only the Elf-sires were awake. Then suddenly he slopped, and
they saw that he nodded as if he was falling asleep. The hobbits sat still
before him, enchanted; and it seemed as if, under the spell of his words,
the wind had gone, and the clouds had dried up, and the day had been
withdrawn, and darkness had come from East and West, and all the sky was
filled with the light of white stars.
Whether the morning and evening of one day or of many days had passed
Frodo could not tell. He did not feel either hungry or tired, only filled
with wonder. The stars shone through the window and the silence of the
heavens seemed to be round him. He spoke at last out of his wonder and a
sudden fear of that silence:
'Who are you, Master?' he asked.
'Eh, what?' said Tom sitting up, and his eyes glinting in the gloom.
'Don't you know my name yet? That's the only answer. Tell me, who are you,
alone, yourself and nameless? But you are young and I am old. Eldest, that's
what I am. Mark my words, my friends: Tom was here before the river and the
trees; Tom remembers the first raindrop and the first acorn. He made paths
before the Big People, and saw the little People arriving. He was here
before the Kings and the graves and the Barrow-wights. When the Elves passed
westward, Tom was here already, before the seas were bent. He knew the dark
under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from
Outside.'
A shadow seemed to pass by the window, and the hobbits glanced hastily
through the panes. When they turned again, Goldberry stood in the door
behind, framed in light. She held a candle, shielding its flame from the
draught with her hand; and the light flowed through it, like sunlight
through a white shell.
'The rain has ended,' she said; 'and new waters are running downhill,
under the stars. Let us now laugh and be glad!'
'And let us have food and drink!' cried Tom. 'Long tales are thirsty.
And long listening's hungry work, morning, noon, and evening!' With that he
jumped out of his chair, and with a bound took a candle from the
chimney-shelf and lit it in the flame that Goldberry held; then he danced
about the table. Suddenly he hopped through the door and disappeared.
Quickly he returned, bearing a large and laden tray. Then Tom and
Goldberry set the table; and the hobbits sat half in wonder and half in
laughter: so fair was the grace of Goldberry and so merry and odd the
caperings of Tom. Yet in some fashion they seemed to weave a single dance,
neither hindering the other, in and out of the room, and round about the
table; and with great speed food and vessels and lights were set in order.
The boards blazed with candles, white and yellow. Tom bowed to his guests.
'Supper is ready,' said Goldberry; and now the hobbits saw that she was
clothed all in silver with a white girdle, and her shoes were like fishes'
mail. But Tom was all in clean blue, blue as rain-washed forget-me-nots, and
he had green stockings.
It was a supper even better than before. The hobbits under the spell of
Tom's words may have missed one meal or many, but when the food was
before
them it seemed at least a week since they had eaten. They did not sing or
even speak much for a while, and paid close attention to business. But after
a time their hearts and spirit rose high again, and their voices rang out in
mirth and laughter.
After they had eaten, Goldberry sang many songs for them, songs that
began merrily in the hills and fell softly down into silence; and in the
silences they saw in their minds pools and waters wider than any they had
known, and looking into them they saw the sky below them and the stars like
jewels in the depths. Then once more she wished them each good night and
left them by the fireside. But Tom now seemed wide awake and plied them
with
questions.
He appeared already to know much about them and all their families, and
indeed to know much of all the history and doings of the Shire down from
days hardly remembered among the hobbits themselves. It no longer surprised
them; but he made no secret that he owed his recent knowledge largely to
Farmer Maggot, whom he seemed to regard as a person of more importance
than
they had imagined. 'There's earth under his old feet, and clay on his
fingers; wisdom in his bones, and both his eyes are open,' said Tom. It was
also clear that Tom had dealings with the Elves, and it seemed that in some
fashion, news had reached him from Gildor concerning the flight of Frodo.
Indeed so much did Tom know, and so cunning was his questioning, that
Frodo found himself telling him more about Bilbo and his own hopes and fears
than he had told before even to Gandalf. Tom wagged his head up and down,
and there was a glint in his eyes when he heard of the Riders.
'Show me the precious Ring!' he said suddenly in the midst of the
story: and Frodo, to his own astonishment, drew out the chain from his
pocket, and unfastening the Ring handed it at once to Tom.
It seemed to grow larger as it lay for a moment on his big
brown-skinned hand. Then suddenly he put it to his eye and laughed. For a
second the hobbits had a vision, both comical and alarming, of his bright
blue eye gleaming through a circle of gold. Then Tom put the Ring round the
end of his little finger and held it up to the candlelight. For a moment the
hobbits noticed nothing strange about this. Then they gasped. There was no
sign of Tom disappearing!
Tom laughed again, and then he spun the Ring in the air - and it
vanished with a flash. Frodo gave a cry - and Tom leaned forward and handed
it back to him with a smile.
Frodo looked at it closely, and rather suspiciously (like one who has
lent a trinket to a juggler). It was the same Ring, or looked the same and
weighed the same: for that Ring had always seemed to Frodo to weigh
strangely heavy in the hand. But something prompted him to make sure. He
was
perhaps a trifle annoyed with Tom for seeming to make so light of what even
Gandalf thought so perilously important. He waited for an opportunity, when
the talk was going again, and Tom was telling an absurd story about badgers
and their queer ways - then he slipped the Ring on.
Merry turned towards him to say something and gave a start, and checked
an exclamation. Frodo was delighted (in a way): it was his own ring all
right, for Merry was staring blankly at his chair, and obviously could not
see him. He got up and crept quietly away from the fireside towards the
outer door.
'Hey there!' cried Tom, glancing towards him with a most seeing look in
his shining eyes. 'Hey! Come Frodo, there! Where be you a-going? Old Tom
Bombadil's not as blind as that yet. Take off your golden ring! Your hand's
more fair without it. Come back! Leave your game and sit down beside me!
We
must talk a while more, and think about the morning. Tom must teach the
right road, and keep your feet from wandering.'
Frodo laughed (trying to feel pleased), and taking off the Ring he came
and sat down again. Tom now told them that he reckoned the Sun would shine
tomorrow, and it would be a glad morning, and setting out would be hopeful.
But they would do well to start early; for weather in that country was a
thing that even Tom could not be sure of for long, and it would change
sometimes quicker than he could change his jacket. 'I am no weather-master,'
he said; 'nor is aught that goes on two legs.'
By his advice they decided to make nearly due North from his house,
over the western and lower slopes of the Downs: they might hope in that way
to strike the East Road in a day's journey, and avoid the Barrows. He told
them not to be afraid - but to mind their own business.
'Keep to the green grass. Don't you go a-meddling with old stone or
cold Wights or prying in their houses, unless you be strong folk with hearts
that never falter!' He said this more than once; and he advised them to pass
barrows by on the west-side, if they chanced to stray near one. Then he
taught them a rhyme to sing, if they should by ill-luck fall into any danger
or difficulty the next day.
Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!
By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,
By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us!
Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!
When they had sung this altogether after him, he clapped them each on
the shoulder with a laugh, and taking candles led them back to their
bedroom.
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The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 10 - Strider (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 15 - The Ring Goes South (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 20 - The Great River (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 21 - The Breaking of the Fellowship (1)


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Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs
That night they heard no noises. But either in his dreams or out of
them, he could not tell which, Frodo heard a sweet singing running in his
mind; a song that seemed to come like a pale light behind a grey
rain-curtain, and growing stronger to turn the veil all to glass and silver,
until at last it was rolled back, and a far green country opened before him
under a swift sunrise.
The vision melted into waking; and there was Tom whistling like a
tree-full of birds; and the sun was already slanting down the hill and
through the open window. Outside everything was green and pale gold.
After breakfast, which they again ate alone, they made ready to say
farewell, as nearly heavy of heart as was possible on such a morning: cool,
bright, and clean under a washed autumn sky of thin blue. The air came fresh
from the North-west. Their quiet ponies were almost frisky, sniffing and
moving restlessly. Tom came out of the house and waved his hat and danced
upon the doorstep, bidding the hobbits to get up and be off and go with good
speed.
They rode off along a path that wound away from behind the house, and
went slanting up towards the north end of the hill-brow under which it
sheltered. They had just dismounted to lead their ponies up the last steep
slope, when suddenly Frodo stopped.
'Goldberry!' he cried. 'My fair lady, clad all in silver green! We have
never said farewell to her, nor seen her since the evening!' He was so
distressed that he turned back; but at that moment a clear call came
rippling down. There on the hill-brow she stood beckoning to them: her hair
was flying loose, and as it caught the sun it shone and shimmered. A light
like the glint of water on dewy grass flashed from under her feet as she
danced.
They hastened up the last slope, and stood breathless beside her. They
bowed, but with a wave of her arm she bade them look round; and they looked
out from the hill-top over lands under the morning. It was now as clear and
far-seen as it had been veiled and misty when they stood upon the knoll in
the Forest, which could now be seen rising pale and green out of the dark
trees in the West. In that direction the land rose in wooded ridges, green,
yellow, russet under the sun, beyond which lay hidden the valley of the
Brandywine. To the South, over the line of the Withywindle, there was a
distant glint like pale glass where the Brandywine River made a great loop
in the lowlands and flowed away out of the knowledge of the hobbits.
Northward beyond the dwindling downs the land ran away in flats and
swellings of grey and green and pale earth-colours, until it faded into a
featureless and shadowy distance. Eastward the Barrow-downs rose, ridge
behind ridge into the morning, and vanished out of eyesight into a guess: it
was no more than a guess of blue and a remote white glimmer blending with
the hem of the sky, but it spoke to them, out of memory and old tales, of
the high and distant mountains.
They took a deep draught of the air, and felt that a skip and a few
stout strides would bear them wherever they wished. It seemed fainthearted
to go jogging aside over the crumpled skirts of the downs towards the Road,
when they should be leaping, as lusty as Tom, over the stepping stones of
the hills straight towards the Mountains.
Goldberry spoke to them and recalled their eyes and thoughts. 'Speed
now, fair guests!' she said. 'And hold to your purpose! North with the wind
in the left eye and a blessing on your footsteps! Make haste while the Sun
shines!' And to Frodo she said: 'Farewell, Elf-friend, it was a merry
meeting!'
But Frodo found no words to answer. He bowed low, and mounted his pony,
and followed by his friends jogged slowly down the gentle slope behind the
hill. Tom Bombadil's house and the valley, and the Forest were lost to view.
The air grew warmer between the green walls of hillside and hillside, and
the scent of turf rose strong and sweet as they breathed. Turning back, when
they reached the bottom of the green hollow, they saw Goldberry, now small
and slender like a sunlit flower against the sky: she was standing still
watching them, and her hands were stretched out towards them. As they looked
she gave a clear call, and lifting up her hand she turned and vanished
behind the hill.
Their way wound along the floor of the hollow, and round the green feet
of a steep hill into another deeper and broader valley, and then over the
shoulder of further hills, and down their long limbs, and up their smooth
sides again, up on to new hill-tops and down into new valleys. There was no
tree nor any visible water: it was a country of grass and short springy
turf, silent except for the whisper of the air over the edges of the land,
and high lonely cries of strange birds. As they journeyed the sun mounted,
and grew hot. Each time they climbed a ridge the breeze seemed to have grown
less. When they caught a glimpse of the country westward the distant Forest
seemed to be smoking, as if the fallen rain was steaming up again from leaf
and root and mould. A shadow now lay round the edge of sight, a dark haze
above which the upper sky was like a blue cap, hot and heavy.
About mid-day they came to a hill whose top was wide and flattened,
like a shallow saucer with a green mounded rim. Inside there was no air
stirring, and the sky seemed near their heads. They rode across and looked
northwards. Then their hearts rose, for it seemed plain that they had come
further already than they had expected. Certainly the distances had now all
become hazy and deceptive, but there could be no doubt that the Downs were
coming to an end. A long valley lay below them winding away northwards,
until it came to an opening between two steep shoulders. Beyond, there
seemed to be no more hills. Due north they faintly glimpsed a long dark
line. That is a line of trees,' said Merry, 'and that must mark the Road.
All along it for many leagues east of the Bridge there are trees growing.
Some say they were planted in the old days.'
'Splendid!' said Frodo. 'If we make as good going this afternoon as we
have done this morning, we shall have left the Downs before the Sun sets and
be jogging on in search of a camping place.' But even as he spoke he turned
his glance eastwards, and he saw that on that side the hills were higher and
looked down upon them; and all those hills were crowned with green mounds,
and on some were standing stones, pointing upwards like jagged teeth out of
green gums.
That view was somehow disquieting; so they turned from the sight and
went down into the hollow circle. In the midst of it there stood a single
stone, standing tall under the sun above, and at this hour casting no
shadow. It was shapeless and yet significant: like a landmark, or a guarding
finger, or more like a warning. But they were now hungry, and the sun was
still at the fearless noon; so they set their backs against the east side of
the stone. It was cool, as if the sun had had no power to warm it; but at
that time this seemed pleasant. There they took food and drink, and made as
good a noon-meal under the open sky as anyone could wish; for the food came
from 'down under Hill'. Tom had provided them with plenty for the comfort of
the day. Their ponies unburdened strayed upon the grass.
Riding over the hills, and eating their fill, the warm sun and the
scent of turf, lying a little too long, stretching out their legs and
looking at the sky above their noses: these things are, perhaps, enough to
explain what happened. However, that may be: they woke suddenly and
uncomfortably from a sleep they had never meant to take. The standing stone
was cold, and it cast a long pale shadow that stretched eastward over them.
The sun, a pale and watery yellow, was gleaming through the mist just above
the west wall of the hollow in which they lay; north, south, and east,
beyond the wall the fog was thick, cold and white. The air was silent, heavy
and chill. Their ponies were standing crowded together with their heads
down.
The hobbits sprang to their feet in alarm, and ran to the western rim.
They found that they were upon an island in the fog. Even as they looked out
in dismay towards the setting sun, it sank before their eyes into a white
sea, and a cold grey shadow sprang up in the East behind. The fog rolled up
to the walls and rose above them, and as it mounted it bent over their heads
until it became a roof: they were shut in a hall of mist whose central
pillar was the standing stone.
They felt as if a trap was closing about them; but they did not quite
lose heart. They still remembered the hopeful view they had had of the line
of the Road ahead, and they still knew in which direction it lay. In any
case, they now had so great a dislike for that hollow place about the stone
that no thought of remaining there was in their minds. They packed up as
quickly as their chilled fingers would work.
Soon they were leading their ponies in single file over the rim and
down the long northward slope of the hill, down into a foggy sea. As they
went down the mist became colder and damper, and their hair hung lank and
dripping on their foreheads. When they reached the bottom it was so cold
that they halted and got out cloaks and hoods, which soon became bedewed
with grey drops. Then, mounting their ponies, they went slowly on again,
feeling their way by the rise and fall of the ground. They were steering, as
well as they could guess, for the gate-like opening at the far northward end
of the long valley which they had seen in the morning. Once they were
through the gap, they had only lo keep on in anything like a straight line
and they were bound in the end to strike the Road. Their thoughts did not go
beyond that, except for a vague hope that perhaps away beyond the Downs
there might be no fog.
Their going was very slow. To prevent their getting separated and
wandering in different directions they went in file, with Frodo leading. Sam
was behind him, and after him came Pippin, and then Merry. The valley
seemed
to stretch on endlessly. Suddenly Frodo saw a hopeful sign. On either side
ahead a darkness began to loom through the mist; and he guessed that they
were at last approaching the gap in the hills, the north-gate of the
Barrow-downs. If they could pass that, they would be free.
'Come on! Follow me!' he called back over his shoulder, and he hurried
forward. But his hope soon changed to bewilderment and alarm. The dark
patches grew darker, but they shrank; and suddenly he saw, towering ominous
before him and leaning slightly towards one another like the pillars of a
headless door, two huge standing stones. He could not remember having seen
any sign of these in the valley, when he looked out from the hill in the
morning. He had passed between them almost before he was aware: and even
as
he did so darkness seemed to fall round him. His pony reared and snorted,
and he fell off. When he looked back he found that he was alone: the others
had not followed him. 'Sam!' he called. 'Pippin! Merry! Come along! Why
don't you keep up?'
There was no answer. Fear took him, and he ran back past the stones
shouting wildly: 'Sam! Sam! Merry! Pippin!' The pony bolted into the mist
and vanished. From some way off, or so it seemed, he thought he heard a cry:
'Hoy! Frodo! Hoy!' It was away eastward, on his left as he stood under the
great stones, staring and straining into the gloom. He plunged off in the
direction of the call, and found himself going steeply uphill.
As he struggled on he called again, and kept on calling more and more
frantically; but he heard no answer for some time, and then it seemed faint
and far ahead and high above him. 'Frodo! Hoy!' came the thin voices out of
the mist: and then a cry that sounded like help, help! often repeated,
ending with a last help! that trailed off into a long wail suddenly cut
short. He stumbled forward with all the speed he could towards the cries;
but the light was now gone, and clinging night had closed about him, so that
it was impossible to be sure of any direction. He seemed all the time to be
climbing up and up.
Only the change in the level of the ground at his feet told him when he
at last came to the top of a ridge or hill. He was weary, sweating and yet
chilled. It was wholly dark.
'Where are you?' he cried out miserably.
There was no reply. He stood listening. He was suddenly aware that it
was getting very cold, and that up here a wind was beginning to blow, an icy
wind. A change was coming in the weather. The mist was flowing past him
now
in shreds and tatters. His breath was smoking, and the darkness was less
near and thick. He looked up and saw with surprise that faint stars were
appearing overhead amid the strands of hurrying cloud and fog. The wind
began to hiss over the grass.
He imagined suddenly that he caught a muffled cry, and he made towards
it; and even as he went forward the mist was rolled up and thrust aside, and
the starry sky was unveiled. A glance showed him that he was now facing
southwards and was on a round hill-top, which he must have climbed from the
north. Out of the east the biting wind was blowing. To his right there
loomed against the westward stars a dark black shape. A great barrow stood
there.
'Where are you?' he cried again, both angry and afraid.
'Here!' said a voice, deep and cold, that seemed to come out of the
ground. 'I am waiting for you!'
'No!' said Frodo; but he did not run away. His knees gave, and he fell
on the ground. Nothing happened, and there was no sound. Trembling he
looked
up, in time to see a tall dark figure like a shadow against the stars. It
leaned over him. He thought there were two eyes, very cold though lit with a
pale light that seemed to come from some remote distance. Then a grip
stronger and colder than iron seized him. The icy touch froze his bones, and
he remembered no more.
When he came to himself again, for a moment he could recall nothing
except a sense of dread. Then suddenly he knew that he was imprisoned,
caught hopelessly; he was in a barrow. A Barrow-wight had taken him, and he
was probably already under the dreadful spells of the Barrow-wights about
which whispered tales spoke. He dared not move, but lay as he found himself:
flat on his back upon a cold stone with his hands on his breast.
But though his fear was so great that it seemed to be part of the very
darkness that was round him, he found himself as he lay thinking about Bilbo
Baggins and his stories, of their jogging along together in the lanes of the
Shire and talking about roads and adventures. There is a seed of courage
hidden (often deeply, it is true) in the heart of the fattest and most timid
hobbit, wailing for some final and desperate danger to make it grow. Frodo
was neither very fat nor very timid; indeed, though he did not know it,
Bilbo (and Gandalf) had thought him the best hobbit in the Shire. He thought
he had come to the end of his adventure, and a terrible end, but the thought
hardened him. He found himself stiffening, as if for a final spring; he no
longer felt limp like a helpless prey.
As he lay there, thinking and getting a hold of himself, he noticed all
at once that the darkness was slowly giving way: a pale greenish light was
growing round him. It did not at first show him what kind of a place he was
in, for the light seemed to be coming out of himself, and from the floor
beside him, and had not yet reached the roof or wall. He turned, and there
in the cold glow he saw lying beside him Sam, Pippin, and Merry. They were
on their backs, and their faces looked deathly pale; and they were clad in
white. About them lay many treasures, of gold maybe, though in that light
they looked cold and unlovely. On their heads were circlets, gold chains
were about their waists, and on their fingers were many rings. Swords lay by
their sides, and shields were at their feet. But across their three necks
lay one long naked sword.
Suddenly a song began: a cold murmur, rising and falling. The voice
seemed far away and immeasurably dreary, sometimes high in the air and thin,
sometimes like a low moan from the ground. Out of the formless stream of sad
but horrible sounds, strings of words would now and again shape themselves:
grim, hard, cold words, heartless and miserable. The night was railing
against the morning of which it was bereaved, and the cold was cursing the
warmth for which it hungered. Frodo was chilled to the marrow. After a while
the song became clearer, and with dread in his heart he perceived that it
had changed into an incantation:
Cold be hand and heart and bone,
and cold be sleep under stone:
never mare to wake on stony bed,
never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.
In the black wind the stars shall die,
and still on gold here let them lie,
till the dark lord lifts his hand
over dead sea and withered land.
He heard behind his head a creaking and scraping sound. Raising himself
on one arm he looked, and saw now in the pale light that they were in a kind
of passage which behind them turned a corner. Round the corner a long arm
was groping, walking on its fingers towards Sam, who was lying nearest, and
towards the hilt of the sword that lay upon him.
At first Frodo felt as if he had indeed been turned into stone by the
incantation. Then a wild thought of escape came to him. He wondered if he
put on the Ring, whether the Barrow-wight would miss him, and he might find
some way out. He thought of himself running free over the grass, grieving
for Merry, and Sam, and Pippin, but free and alive himself. Gandalf would
admit that there had been nothing else he could do.
But the courage that had been awakened in him was now too strong: he
could not leave his friends so easily. He wavered, groping in his pocket,
and then fought with himself again; and as he did so the arm crept nearer.
Suddenly resolve hardened in him, and he seized a short sword that lay
beside him, and kneeling he stooped low over the bodies of his companions.
With what strength he had he hewed at the crawling arm near the wrist, and
the hand broke off; but at the same moment the sword splintered up to the
hilt. There was a shriek and the light vanished. In the dark there was a
snarling noise.
Frodo fell forward over Merry, and Merry's face felt cold. All at once
back into his mind, from which it had disappeared with the first coming of
the fog, came the memory of the house down under the Hill, and of Tom
singing. He remembered the rhyme that Tom had taught them. In a small
desperate voice he began: Ho! Tom Bombadil! and with that name his voice
seemed to grow strong: it had a full and lively sound, and the dark chamber
echoed as if to drum and trumpet.
Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!
By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,
By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us!
Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!
There was a sudden deep silence, in which Frodo could hear his heart
beating. After a long slow moment he heard plain, but far away, as if it was
coming down through the ground or through thick walls, an answering voice
singing:
Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow,
Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.
None has ever caught him yet, for Tom, he is the master:
His songs are stronger songs, and his feet are faster.
There was a loud rumbling sound, as of stones rolling and falling, and
suddenly light streamed in, real light, the plain light of day. A low
door-like opening appeared at the end of the chamber beyond Frodo's feet;
and there was Tom's head (hat, feather, and all) framed against the light of
the sun rising red behind him. The light fell upon the floor, and upon the
faces of the three hobbits lying beside Frodo. They did not stir, but the
sickly hue had left them. They looked now as if they were only very deeply
asleep.
Tom stooped, removed his hat, and came into the dark chamber, singing:
Get out, you old Wight! Vanish in the sunlight!
Shrivel like the cold mist, like the winds go wailing,
Out into the barren lands far beyond the mountains!
Come never here again! Leave your barrow empty!
Lost and forgotten be, darker than the darkness,
Where gates stand for ever shut, till the world is mended.
At these words there was a cry and part of the inner end of the chamber
fell in with a crash. Then there was a long trailing shriek, fading away
into an unguessable distance; and after that silence.
'Come, friend Frodo!' said Tom. 'Let us get out on to clean grass! You
must help me bear them.'
Together they carried out Merry, Pippin, and Sam. As Frodo left the
barrow for the last time he thought he saw a severed hand wriggling still,
like a wounded spider, in a heap of fallen earth. Tom went back in again,
and there was a sound of much thumping and stamping. When he came out he
was
bearing in his arms a great load of treasure: things of gold, silver,
copper, and bronze; many beads and chains and jewelled ornaments. He
climbed
the green barrow and laid them all on top in the sunshine.
There he stood, with his hat in his hand and the wind in his hair, and
looked down upon the three hobbits, that had been laid on their backs upon
the grass at the west side of the mound. Raising his right hand he said in a
clear and commanding voice:
Wake now my merry tads! Wake and hear me calling!
Warm now be heart and limb! The cold stone is fallen;
Dark door is standing wide; dead hand is broken.
Night under Night is flown, and the Gate is open!
To Frodo's great joy the hobbits stirred, stretched their arms, rubbed
their eyes, and then suddenly sprang up. They looked about in amazement,
first at Frodo, and then at Tom standing large as life on the barrow-top
above them; and then at themselves in their thin white rags, crowned and
belted with pale gold, and jingling with trinkets.
'What in the name of wonder?' began Merry, feeling the golden circlet
that had slipped over one eye. Then he stopped, and a shadow came over his
face, and he closed his eyes. 'Of course, I remember!' he said. 'The men of
Carn Dym came on us at night, and we were worsted. Ah! the spear in my
heart!' He clutched at his breast. 'No! No!' he said, opening his eyes.
'What am I saying? I have been dreaming. Where did you get to, Frodo?'
'I thought that I was lost,' said Frodo; 'but I don't want to speak of
it. Let us think of what we are to do now! Let us go on!'
'Dressed up like this, sir?' said Sam. 'Where are my clothes?' He flung
his circlet, belt, and rings on the grass, and looked round helplessly, as
if he expected to find his cloak, jacket, and breeches, and other
hobbit-garments lying somewhere to hand.
'You won't find your clothes again,' said Tom, bounding down from the
mound, and laughing as he danced round them in the sunlight. One would have
thought that nothing dangerous or dreadful had happened; and indeed the
horror faded out of their hearts as they looked at him, and saw the merry
glint in his eyes.
'What do you mean?' asked Pippin, looking at him, half puzzled and half
amused. 'Why not?'
But Tom shook his head, saying: 'You've found yourselves again, out of
the deep water. Clothes are but little loss, if you escape from drowning. Be
glad, my merry friends, and let the warm sunlight heal now heart and limb!
Cast off these cold rags! Run naked on the grass, while Tom goes a-hunting!'
He sprang away down hill, whistling and calling. Looking down after him
Frodo saw him running away southwards along the green hollow between
their
hill and the next, still whistling and crying:
Hey! now! Come hoy now! Whither do you wander?
Up, down, near or far, here, there or yonder?
Sharp-ears, Wise-nose, Swish-tail and Bumpkin,
White-socks my little lad, and old Fatty Lumpkin!
So he sang, running fast, tossing up his hat and catching it, until he
was hidden by a fold of the ground: but for some time his hey now! hoy now!
came floating back down the wind, which had shifted round towards the south.
The air was growing very warm again. The hobbits ran about for a while
on the grass, as he told them. Then they lay basking in the sun with the
delight of those that have been wafted suddenly from bitter winter to a
friendly clime, or of people that, after being long ill and bedridden, wake
one day to find that they are unexpectedly well and the day is again full of
promise.
By the time that Tom returned they were feeling strong (and hungry). He
reappeared, hat first, over the brow of the hill, and behind him came in an
obedient line six ponies: their own five and one more. The last was plainly
old Fatty Lumpkin: he was larger, stronger, fatter (and older) than their
own ponies. Merry, to whom the others belonged, had not, in fact, given them
any such names, but they answered to the new names that Tom had given
them
for the rest of their lives. Tom called them one by one and they climbed
over the brow and stood in a line. Then Tom bowed to the hobbits.
'Here are your ponies, now!' he said. 'They've more sense (in some
ways) than you wandering hobbits have - more sense in their noses. For they
sniff danger ahead which you walk right into; and if they run to save
themselves, then they run the right way. You must forgive them all; for
though their hearts are faithful, to face fear of Barrow-wights is not what
they were made for. See, here they come again, bringing all their burdens!'
Merry, Sam, and Pippin now clothed themselves in spare garments from
their packs; and they soon felt too hot, for they were obliged to put on
some of the thicker and warmer things that they had brought against the
oncoming of winter.
'Where does that other old animal, that Fatty Lumpkin, come from?'
asked Frodo.
'He's mine,' said Tom. 'My four-legged friend; though I seldom ride
him, and he wanders often far, free upon the hillsides. When your ponies
stayed with me, they got to know my Lumpkin; and they smelt him in the
night, and quickly ran to meet him. I thought he'd look for them and with
his words of wisdom take all their fear away. But now, my jolly Lumpkin, old
Tom's going to ride. Hey! he's coming with you, just to set you on the road;
so he needs a pony. For you cannot easily talk to hobbits that are riding,
when you're on your own legs trying to trot beside them.'
The hobbits were delighted to hear this, and thanked Tom many times;
but he laughed, and said that they were so good at losing themselves that he
would not feel happy till he had seen them safe over the borders of his
land. 'I've got things to do,' he said: 'my making and my singing, my
talking and my walking, and my watching of the country. Tom can't be always
near to open doors and willow-cracks. Tom has his house to mind, and
Goldberry is waiting.'
It was still fairly early by the sun, something between nine and ten,
and the hobbits turned their minds to food. Their last meal had been lunch
beside the standing stone the day before. They breakfasted now off the
remainder of Tom's provisions, meant for their supper, with additions that
Tom had brought with him. It was not a large meal (considering hobbits and
the circumstances), but they felt much better for it. While they were eating
Tom went up to the mound, and looked through the treasures. Most of these he
made into a pile that glistened and sparkled on the grass. He bade them lie
there 'free to all finders, birds, beasts. Elves or Men, and all kindly
creatures'; for so the spell of the mound should be broken and scattered and
no Wight ever come back to it. He chose for himself from the pile a brooch
set with blue stones, many-shaded like flax-flowers or the wings of blue
butterflies. He looked long at it, as if stirred by some memory, shaking his
head, and saying at last:
'Here is a pretty toy for Tom and for his lady! Fair was she who long
ago wore this on her shoulder. Goldberry shall wear it now, and we will not
forget her!'
For each of the hobbits he chose a dagger, long, leaf-shaped, and keen,
of marvellous workmanship, damasked with serpent-forms in red and gold.
They
gleamed as he drew them from their black sheaths, wrought of some strange
metal, light and strong, and set with many fiery stones. Whether by some
virtue in these sheaths or because of the spell that lay on the mound, the
blades seemed untouched by time, unrusted, sharp, glittering in the sun.
'Old knives are long enough as swords for hobbit-people,' he said.
'Sharp blades are good to have, if Shire-folk go walking, east, south, or
far away into dark and danger.' Then he told them that these blades were
forged many long years ago by Men of Westernesse: they were foes of the
Dark
Lord, but they were overcome by the evil king of Carn Dym in the Land of
Angmar.
'Few now remember them,' Tom murmured, 'yet still some go wandering,
sons of forgotten kings walking in loneliness, guarding from evil things
folk that are heedless.'
The hobbits did not understand his words, but as he spoke they had a
vision as it were of a great expanse of years behind them, like a vast
shadowy plain over which there strode shapes of Men, tall and grim with
bright swords, and last came one with a star on his brow. Then the vision
faded, and they were back in the sunlit world. It was time to start again.
They made ready, packing their bags and lading their ponies. Their new
weapons they hung on their leather belts under their jackets, feeling them
very awkward, and wondering if they would be of any use. Fighting had not
before occurred to any of them as one of the adventures in which their
flight would land them.
At last they set off. They led their ponies down the hill; and then
mounting they trotted quickly along the valley. They looked back and saw the
top of the old mound on the hill, and from it the sunlight on the gold went
up like a yellow flame. Then they turned a shoulder of the Downs and it was
hidden from view.
Though Frodo looked about him on every side he saw no sign of the great
stones standing like a gate, and before long they came to the northern gap
and rode swiftly through, and the land fell away before them. It was a merry
journey with Tom Bombadil trotting gaily beside them, or before them, on
Fatty Lumpkin, who could move much faster than his girth promised. Tom
sang
most of the time, but it was chiefly nonsense, or else perhaps a strange
language unknown to the hobbits, an ancient language whose words were
mainly
those of wonder and delight.
They went forward steadily, but they soon saw that the Road was further
away than they had imagined. Even without a fog, their sleep at mid-day
would have prevented them from reaching it until after nightfall on the day
before. The dark line they had seen was not a line of trees but a line of
bushes growing on the edge of a deep dike with a steep wall on the further
side. Tom said that it had once been the boundary of a kingdom, but a very
long lime ago. He seemed to remember something sad about it, and would not
say much.
They climbed down and out of the dike and through a gap in the wall,
and then Tom turned due north, for they had been bearing somewhat to the
west. The land was now open and fairly level, and they quickened their pace,
but the sun was already sinking low when at last they saw a line of tall
trees ahead, and they knew that they had come back to the Road after many
unexpected adventures. They galloped their ponies over the last furlongs,
and halted under the long shadows of the trees. They were on the top of a
sloping bank, and the Road, now dim as evening drew on, wound away
below
them. At this point it ran nearly from South-west to North-east, and on
their right it fell quickly down into a wide hollow. It was rutted and bore
many signs of the recent heavy rain; there were pools and pot-holes full of
water. They rode down the bank and looked up and down. There was nothing
to
be seen. 'Well, here we are again at last!' said Frodo. 'I suppose we
haven't lost more than two days by my short cut through the Forest! But
perhaps the delay will prove useful - it may have put them off our trail.'
The others looked at him. The shadow of the fear of the Black Riders
came suddenly over them again. Ever since they had entered the Forest they
had thought chiefly of getting back to the Road; only now when it lay
beneath their feet did they remember the danger which pursued them, and was
more than likely to be lying in wait for them upon the Road itself. They
looked anxiously back towards the setting sun, but the Road was brown and
empty.
'Do you think,' asked Pippin hesitatingly, 'do you think we may be
pursued, tonight?'
'No, I hope not tonight,' answered Tom Bombadil; 'nor perhaps the next
day. But do not trust my guess; for I cannot tell for certain. Out east my
knowledge fails. Tom is not master of Riders from the Black Land far beyond
his country.'
All the same the hobbits wished he was coming with them. They felt that
he would know how to deal with Black Riders, if anyone did. They would
soon
now be going forward into lands wholly strange to them, and beyond all but
the most vague and distant legends of the Shire, and in the gathering
twilight they longed for home. A deep loneliness and sense of loss was on
them. They stood silent, reluctant to make the final parting, and only
slowly became aware that Tom was wishing them farewell, and telling them to
have good heart and to ride on till dark without halting.
'Tom will give you good advice, till this day is over (after that your
own luck must go with you and guide you): four miles along the Road you'll
come upon a village, Bree under Bree-hill, with doors looking westward.
There you'll find an old inn that is called The Prancing Pony. Barliman
Butterbur is the worthy keeper. There you can stay the night, and afterwards
the morning will speed you upon your way. Be bold, but wary! Keep up your
merry hearts, and ride to meet your fortune!'
They begged him to come at least as far as the inn and drink once more
with them; but he laughed and refused, saying:
Tom's country ends here: he will not pass the borders.
Tom has his house to mind, and Goldberry is waiting!
Then he turned, tossed up his hat, leaped on Lumpkin's back, and rode
up over the bank and away singing into the dusk.
The hobbits climbed up and watched him until he was out of sight.
'I am sorry to take leave of Master Bombadil,' said Sam. 'He's a
caution and no mistake. I reckon we may go a good deal further and see
naught better, nor queerer. But I won't deny I'll be glad to see this
Prancing Pony he spoke of. I hope it'll be like The Green Dragon away back
home! What sort of folk are they in Bree?'
'There are hobbits in Bree,' said Merry, 'as well as Big Folk. I
daresay it will be homelike enough. The Pony is a good inn by all accounts.
My people ride out there now and again.'
'It may be all we could wish,' said Frodo; 'but it is outside the Shire
all the same. Don't make yourselves too much at home! Please remember -all
of you - that the name of Baggins must NOT be mentioned. I am Mr. Underhill,
if any name must be given.'
They now mounted their ponies and rode off silently into the evening.
Darkness came down quickly, as they plodded slowly downhill and up again,
until at last they saw lights twinkling some distance ahead.
Before them rose Bree-hill barring the way, a dark mass against misty
stars; and under its western flank nestled a large village. Towards it they
now hurried desiring only to find a fire, and a door between them and the
night.
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Labels: The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs
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The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 10 - Strider (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 15 - The Ring Goes South (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 20 - The Great River (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 21 - The Breaking of the Fellowship (1)


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Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony
Fog on the Barrow-Downs
That night they heard no noises. But either in his dreams or out of
them, he could not tell which, Frodo heard a sweet singing running in his
mind; a song that seemed to come like a pale light behind a grey
rain-curtain, and growing stronger to turn the veil all to glass and silver,
until at last it was rolled back, and a far green country opened before him
under a swift sunrise.
The vision melted into waking; and there was Tom whistling like a
tree-full of birds; and the sun was already slanting down the hill and
through the open window. Outside everything was green and pale gold.
After breakfast, which they again ate alone, they made ready to say
farewell, as nearly heavy of heart as was possible on such a morning: cool,
bright, and clean under a washed autumn sky of thin blue. The air came fresh
from the North-west. Their quiet ponies were almost frisky, sniffing and
moving restlessly. Tom came out of the house and waved his hat and danced
upon the doorstep, bidding the hobbits to get up and be off and go with good
speed.
They rode off along a path that wound away from behind the house, and
went slanting up towards the north end of the hill-brow under which it
sheltered. They had just dismounted to lead their ponies up the last steep
slope, when suddenly Frodo stopped.
'Goldberry!' he cried. 'My fair lady, clad all in silver green! We have
never said farewell to her, nor seen her since the evening!' He was so
distressed that he turned back; but at that moment a clear call came
rippling down. There on the hill-brow she stood beckoning to them: her hair
was flying loose, and as it caught the sun it shone and shimmered. A light
like the glint of water on dewy grass flashed from under her feet as she
danced.
They hastened up the last slope, and stood breathless beside her. They
bowed, but with a wave of her arm she bade them look round; and they looked
out from the hill-top over lands under the morning. It was now as clear and
far-seen as it had been veiled and misty when they stood upon the knoll in
the Forest, which could now be seen rising pale and green out of the dark
trees in the West. In that direction the land rose in wooded ridges, green,
yellow, russet under the sun, beyond which lay hidden the valley of the
Brandywine. To the South, over the line of the Withywindle, there was a
distant glint like pale glass where the Brandywine River made a great loop
in the lowlands and flowed away out of the knowledge of the hobbits.
Northward beyond the dwindling downs the land ran away in flats and
swellings of grey and green and pale earth-colours, until it faded into a
featureless and shadowy distance. Eastward the Barrow-downs rose, ridge
behind ridge into the morning, and vanished out of eyesight into a guess: it
was no more than a guess of blue and a remote white glimmer blending with
the hem of the sky, but it spoke to them, out of memory and old tales, of
the high and distant mountains.
They took a deep draught of the air, and felt that a skip and a few
stout strides would bear them wherever they wished. It seemed fainthearted
to go jogging aside over the crumpled skirts of the downs towards the Road,
when they should be leaping, as lusty as Tom, over the stepping stones of
the hills straight towards the Mountains.
Goldberry spoke to them and recalled their eyes and thoughts. 'Speed
now, fair guests!' she said. 'And hold to your purpose! North with the wind
in the left eye and a blessing on your footsteps! Make haste while the Sun
shines!' And to Frodo she said: 'Farewell, Elf-friend, it was a merry
meeting!'
But Frodo found no words to answer. He bowed low, and mounted his pony,
and followed by his friends jogged slowly down the gentle slope behind the
hill. Tom Bombadil's house and the valley, and the Forest were lost to view.
The air grew warmer between the green walls of hillside and hillside, and
the scent of turf rose strong and sweet as they breathed. Turning back, when
they reached the bottom of the green hollow, they saw Goldberry, now small
and slender like a sunlit flower against the sky: she was standing still
watching them, and her hands were stretched out towards them. As they looked
she gave a clear call, and lifting up her hand she turned and vanished
behind the hill.
Their way wound along the floor of the hollow, and round the green feet
of a steep hill into another deeper and broader valley, and then over the
shoulder of further hills, and down their long limbs, and up their smooth
sides again, up on to new hill-tops and down into new valleys. There was no
tree nor any visible water: it was a country of grass and short springy
turf, silent except for the whisper of the air over the edges of the land,
and high lonely cries of strange birds. As they journeyed the sun mounted,
and grew hot. Each time they climbed a ridge the breeze seemed to have grown
less. When they caught a glimpse of the country westward the distant Forest
seemed to be smoking, as if the fallen rain was steaming up again from leaf
and root and mould. A shadow now lay round the edge of sight, a dark haze
above which the upper sky was like a blue cap, hot and heavy.
About mid-day they came to a hill whose top was wide and flattened,
like a shallow saucer with a green mounded rim. Inside there was no air
stirring, and the sky seemed near their heads. They rode across and looked
northwards. Then their hearts rose, for it seemed plain that they had come
further already than they had expected. Certainly the distances had now all
become hazy and deceptive, but there could be no doubt that the Downs were
coming to an end. A long valley lay below them winding away northwards,
until it came to an opening between two steep shoulders. Beyond, there
seemed to be no more hills. Due north they faintly glimpsed a long dark
line. That is a line of trees,' said Merry, 'and that must mark the Road.
All along it for many leagues east of the Bridge there are trees growing.
Some say they were planted in the old days.'
'Splendid!' said Frodo. 'If we make as good going this afternoon as we
have done this morning, we shall have left the Downs before the Sun sets and
be jogging on in search of a camping place.' But even as he spoke he turned
his glance eastwards, and he saw that on that side the hills were higher and
looked down upon them; and all those hills were crowned with green mounds,
and on some were standing stones, pointing upwards like jagged teeth out of
green gums.
That view was somehow disquieting; so they turned from the sight and
went down into the hollow circle. In the midst of it there stood a single
stone, standing tall under the sun above, and at this hour casting no
shadow. It was shapeless and yet significant: like a landmark, or a guarding
finger, or more like a warning. But they were now hungry, and the sun was
still at the fearless noon; so they set their backs against the east side of
the stone. It was cool, as if the sun had had no power to warm it; but at
that time this seemed pleasant. There they took food and drink, and made as
good a noon-meal under the open sky as anyone could wish; for the food came
from 'down under Hill'. Tom had provided them with plenty for the comfort of
the day. Their ponies unburdened strayed upon the grass.
Riding over the hills, and eating their fill, the warm sun and the
scent of turf, lying a little too long, stretching out their legs and
looking at the sky above their noses: these things are, perhaps, enough to
explain what happened. However, that may be: they woke suddenly and
uncomfortably from a sleep they had never meant to take. The standing stone
was cold, and it cast a long pale shadow that stretched eastward over them.
The sun, a pale and watery yellow, was gleaming through the mist just above
the west wall of the hollow in which they lay; north, south, and east,
beyond the wall the fog was thick, cold and white. The air was silent, heavy
and chill. Their ponies were standing crowded together with their heads
down.
The hobbits sprang to their feet in alarm, and ran to the western rim.
They found that they were upon an island in the fog. Even as they looked out
in dismay towards the setting sun, it sank before their eyes into a white
sea, and a cold grey shadow sprang up in the East behind. The fog rolled up
to the walls and rose above them, and as it mounted it bent over their heads
until it became a roof: they were shut in a hall of mist whose central
pillar was the standing stone.
They felt as if a trap was closing about them; but they did not quite
lose heart. They still remembered the hopeful view they had had of the line
of the Road ahead, and they still knew in which direction it lay. In any
case, they now had so great a dislike for that hollow place about the stone
that no thought of remaining there was in their minds. They packed up as
quickly as their chilled fingers would work.
Soon they were leading their ponies in single file over the rim and
down the long northward slope of the hill, down into a foggy sea. As they
went down the mist became colder and damper, and their hair hung lank and
dripping on their foreheads. When they reached the bottom it was so cold
that they halted and got out cloaks and hoods, which soon became bedewed
with grey drops. Then, mounting their ponies, they went slowly on again,
feeling their way by the rise and fall of the ground. They were steering, as
well as they could guess, for the gate-like opening at the far northward end
of the long valley which they had seen in the morning. Once they were
through the gap, they had only lo keep on in anything like a straight line
and they were bound in the end to strike the Road. Their thoughts did not go
beyond that, except for a vague hope that perhaps away beyond the Downs
there might be no fog.
Their going was very slow. To prevent their getting separated and
wandering in different directions they went in file, with Frodo leading. Sam
was behind him, and after him came Pippin, and then Merry. The valley
seemed
to stretch on endlessly. Suddenly Frodo saw a hopeful sign. On either side
ahead a darkness began to loom through the mist; and he guessed that they
were at last approaching the gap in the hills, the north-gate of the
Barrow-downs. If they could pass that, they would be free.
'Come on! Follow me!' he called back over his shoulder, and he hurried
forward. But his hope soon changed to bewilderment and alarm. The dark
patches grew darker, but they shrank; and suddenly he saw, towering ominous
before him and leaning slightly towards one another like the pillars of a
headless door, two huge standing stones. He could not remember having seen
any sign of these in the valley, when he looked out from the hill in the
morning. He had passed between them almost before he was aware: and even
as
he did so darkness seemed to fall round him. His pony reared and snorted,
and he fell off. When he looked back he found that he was alone: the others
had not followed him. 'Sam!' he called. 'Pippin! Merry! Come along! Why
don't you keep up?'
There was no answer. Fear took him, and he ran back past the stones
shouting wildly: 'Sam! Sam! Merry! Pippin!' The pony bolted into the mist
and vanished. From some way off, or so it seemed, he thought he heard a cry:
'Hoy! Frodo! Hoy!' It was away eastward, on his left as he stood under the
great stones, staring and straining into the gloom. He plunged off in the
direction of the call, and found himself going steeply uphill.
As he struggled on he called again, and kept on calling more and more
frantically; but he heard no answer for some time, and then it seemed faint
and far ahead and high above him. 'Frodo! Hoy!' came the thin voices out of
the mist: and then a cry that sounded like help, help! often repeated,
ending with a last help! that trailed off into a long wail suddenly cut
short. He stumbled forward with all the speed he could towards the cries;
but the light was now gone, and clinging night had closed about him, so that
it was impossible to be sure of any direction. He seemed all the time to be
climbing up and up.
Only the change in the level of the ground at his feet told him when he
at last came to the top of a ridge or hill. He was weary, sweating and yet
chilled. It was wholly dark.
'Where are you?' he cried out miserably.
There was no reply. He stood listening. He was suddenly aware that it
was getting very cold, and that up here a wind was beginning to blow, an icy
wind. A change was coming in the weather. The mist was flowing past him
now
in shreds and tatters. His breath was smoking, and the darkness was less
near and thick. He looked up and saw with surprise that faint stars were
appearing overhead amid the strands of hurrying cloud and fog. The wind
began to hiss over the grass.
He imagined suddenly that he caught a muffled cry, and he made towards
it; and even as he went forward the mist was rolled up and thrust aside, and
the starry sky was unveiled. A glance showed him that he was now facing
southwards and was on a round hill-top, which he must have climbed from the
north. Out of the east the biting wind was blowing. To his right there
loomed against the westward stars a dark black shape. A great barrow stood
there.
'Where are you?' he cried again, both angry and afraid.
'Here!' said a voice, deep and cold, that seemed to come out of the
ground. 'I am waiting for you!'
'No!' said Frodo; but he did not run away. His knees gave, and he fell
on the ground. Nothing happened, and there was no sound. Trembling he
looked
up, in time to see a tall dark figure like a shadow against the stars. It
leaned over him. He thought there were two eyes, very cold though lit with a
pale light that seemed to come from some remote distance. Then a grip
stronger and colder than iron seized him. The icy touch froze his bones, and
he remembered no more.
When he came to himself again, for a moment he could recall nothing
except a sense of dread. Then suddenly he knew that he was imprisoned,
caught hopelessly; he was in a barrow. A Barrow-wight had taken him, and he
was probably already under the dreadful spells of the Barrow-wights about
which whispered tales spoke. He dared not move, but lay as he found himself:
flat on his back upon a cold stone with his hands on his breast.
But though his fear was so great that it seemed to be part of the very
darkness that was round him, he found himself as he lay thinking about Bilbo
Baggins and his stories, of their jogging along together in the lanes of the
Shire and talking about roads and adventures. There is a seed of courage
hidden (often deeply, it is true) in the heart of the fattest and most timid
hobbit, wailing for some final and desperate danger to make it grow. Frodo
was neither very fat nor very timid; indeed, though he did not know it,
Bilbo (and Gandalf) had thought him the best hobbit in the Shire. He thought
he had come to the end of his adventure, and a terrible end, but the thought
hardened him. He found himself stiffening, as if for a final spring; he no
longer felt limp like a helpless prey.
As he lay there, thinking and getting a hold of himself, he noticed all
at once that the darkness was slowly giving way: a pale greenish light was
growing round him. It did not at first show him what kind of a place he was
in, for the light seemed to be coming out of himself, and from the floor
beside him, and had not yet reached the roof or wall. He turned, and there
in the cold glow he saw lying beside him Sam, Pippin, and Merry. They were
on their backs, and their faces looked deathly pale; and they were clad in
white. About them lay many treasures, of gold maybe, though in that light
they looked cold and unlovely. On their heads were circlets, gold chains
were about their waists, and on their fingers were many rings. Swords lay by
their sides, and shields were at their feet. But across their three necks
lay one long naked sword.
Suddenly a song began: a cold murmur, rising and falling. The voice
seemed far away and immeasurably dreary, sometimes high in the air and thin,
sometimes like a low moan from the ground. Out of the formless stream of sad
but horrible sounds, strings of words would now and again shape themselves:
grim, hard, cold words, heartless and miserable. The night was railing
against the morning of which it was bereaved, and the cold was cursing the
warmth for which it hungered. Frodo was chilled to the marrow. After a while
the song became clearer, and with dread in his heart he perceived that it
had changed into an incantation:
Cold be hand and heart and bone,
and cold be sleep under stone:
never mare to wake on stony bed,
never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.
In the black wind the stars shall die,
and still on gold here let them lie,
till the dark lord lifts his hand
over dead sea and withered land.
He heard behind his head a creaking and scraping sound. Raising himself
on one arm he looked, and saw now in the pale light that they were in a kind
of passage which behind them turned a corner. Round the corner a long arm
was groping, walking on its fingers towards Sam, who was lying nearest, and
towards the hilt of the sword that lay upon him.
At first Frodo felt as if he had indeed been turned into stone by the
incantation. Then a wild thought of escape came to him. He wondered if he
put on the Ring, whether the Barrow-wight would miss him, and he might find
some way out. He thought of himself running free over the grass, grieving
for Merry, and Sam, and Pippin, but free and alive himself. Gandalf would
admit that there had been nothing else he could do.
But the courage that had been awakened in him was now too strong: he
could not leave his friends so easily. He wavered, groping in his pocket,
and then fought with himself again; and as he did so the arm crept nearer.
Suddenly resolve hardened in him, and he seized a short sword that lay
beside him, and kneeling he stooped low over the bodies of his companions.
With what strength he had he hewed at the crawling arm near the wrist, and
the hand broke off; but at the same moment the sword splintered up to the
hilt. There was a shriek and the light vanished. In the dark there was a
snarling noise.
Frodo fell forward over Merry, and Merry's face felt cold. All at once
back into his mind, from which it had disappeared with the first coming of
the fog, came the memory of the house down under the Hill, and of Tom
singing. He remembered the rhyme that Tom had taught them. In a small
desperate voice he began: Ho! Tom Bombadil! and with that name his voice
seemed to grow strong: it had a full and lively sound, and the dark chamber
echoed as if to drum and trumpet.
Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!
By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,
By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us!
Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!
There was a sudden deep silence, in which Frodo could hear his heart
beating. After a long slow moment he heard plain, but far away, as if it was
coming down through the ground or through thick walls, an answering voice
singing:
Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow,
Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.
None has ever caught him yet, for Tom, he is the master:
His songs are stronger songs, and his feet are faster.
There was a loud rumbling sound, as of stones rolling and falling, and
suddenly light streamed in, real light, the plain light of day. A low
door-like opening appeared at the end of the chamber beyond Frodo's feet;
and there was Tom's head (hat, feather, and all) framed against the light of
the sun rising red behind him. The light fell upon the floor, and upon the
faces of the three hobbits lying beside Frodo. They did not stir, but the
sickly hue had left them. They looked now as if they were only very deeply
asleep.
Tom stooped, removed his hat, and came into the dark chamber, singing:
Get out, you old Wight! Vanish in the sunlight!
Shrivel like the cold mist, like the winds go wailing,
Out into the barren lands far beyond the mountains!
Come never here again! Leave your barrow empty!
Lost and forgotten be, darker than the darkness,
Where gates stand for ever shut, till the world is mended.
At these words there was a cry and part of the inner end of the chamber
fell in with a crash. Then there was a long trailing shriek, fading away
into an unguessable distance; and after that silence.
'Come, friend Frodo!' said Tom. 'Let us get out on to clean grass! You
must help me bear them.'
Together they carried out Merry, Pippin, and Sam. As Frodo left the
barrow for the last time he thought he saw a severed hand wriggling still,
like a wounded spider, in a heap of fallen earth. Tom went back in again,
and there was a sound of much thumping and stamping. When he came out he
was
bearing in his arms a great load of treasure: things of gold, silver,
copper, and bronze; many beads and chains and jewelled ornaments. He
climbed
the green barrow and laid them all on top in the sunshine.
There he stood, with his hat in his hand and the wind in his hair, and
looked down upon the three hobbits, that had been laid on their backs upon
the grass at the west side of the mound. Raising his right hand he said in a
clear and commanding voice:
Wake now my merry tads! Wake and hear me calling!
Warm now be heart and limb! The cold stone is fallen;
Dark door is standing wide; dead hand is broken.
Night under Night is flown, and the Gate is open!
To Frodo's great joy the hobbits stirred, stretched their arms, rubbed
their eyes, and then suddenly sprang up. They looked about in amazement,
first at Frodo, and then at Tom standing large as life on the barrow-top
above them; and then at themselves in their thin white rags, crowned and
belted with pale gold, and jingling with trinkets.
'What in the name of wonder?' began Merry, feeling the golden circlet
that had slipped over one eye. Then he stopped, and a shadow came over his
face, and he closed his eyes. 'Of course, I remember!' he said. 'The men of
Carn Dym came on us at night, and we were worsted. Ah! the spear in my
heart!' He clutched at his breast. 'No! No!' he said, opening his eyes.
'What am I saying? I have been dreaming. Where did you get to, Frodo?'
'I thought that I was lost,' said Frodo; 'but I don't want to speak of
it. Let us think of what we are to do now! Let us go on!'
'Dressed up like this, sir?' said Sam. 'Where are my clothes?' He flung
his circlet, belt, and rings on the grass, and looked round helplessly, as
if he expected to find his cloak, jacket, and breeches, and other
hobbit-garments lying somewhere to hand.
'You won't find your clothes again,' said Tom, bounding down from the
mound, and laughing as he danced round them in the sunlight. One would have
thought that nothing dangerous or dreadful had happened; and indeed the
horror faded out of their hearts as they looked at him, and saw the merry
glint in his eyes.
'What do you mean?' asked Pippin, looking at him, half puzzled and half
amused. 'Why not?'
But Tom shook his head, saying: 'You've found yourselves again, out of
the deep water. Clothes are but little loss, if you escape from drowning. Be
glad, my merry friends, and let the warm sunlight heal now heart and limb!
Cast off these cold rags! Run naked on the grass, while Tom goes a-hunting!'
He sprang away down hill, whistling and calling. Looking down after him
Frodo saw him running away southwards along the green hollow between
their
hill and the next, still whistling and crying:
Hey! now! Come hoy now! Whither do you wander?
Up, down, near or far, here, there or yonder?
Sharp-ears, Wise-nose, Swish-tail and Bumpkin,
White-socks my little lad, and old Fatty Lumpkin!
So he sang, running fast, tossing up his hat and catching it, until he
was hidden by a fold of the ground: but for some time his hey now! hoy now!
came floating back down the wind, which had shifted round towards the south.
The air was growing very warm again. The hobbits ran about for a while
on the grass, as he told them. Then they lay basking in the sun with the
delight of those that have been wafted suddenly from bitter winter to a
friendly clime, or of people that, after being long ill and bedridden, wake
one day to find that they are unexpectedly well and the day is again full of
promise.
By the time that Tom returned they were feeling strong (and hungry). He
reappeared, hat first, over the brow of the hill, and behind him came in an
obedient line six ponies: their own five and one more. The last was plainly
old Fatty Lumpkin: he was larger, stronger, fatter (and older) than their
own ponies. Merry, to whom the others belonged, had not, in fact, given them
any such names, but they answered to the new names that Tom had given
them
for the rest of their lives. Tom called them one by one and they climbed
over the brow and stood in a line. Then Tom bowed to the hobbits.
'Here are your ponies, now!' he said. 'They've more sense (in some
ways) than you wandering hobbits have - more sense in their noses. For they
sniff danger ahead which you walk right into; and if they run to save
themselves, then they run the right way. You must forgive them all; for
though their hearts are faithful, to face fear of Barrow-wights is not what
they were made for. See, here they come again, bringing all their burdens!'
Merry, Sam, and Pippin now clothed themselves in spare garments from
their packs; and they soon felt too hot, for they were obliged to put on
some of the thicker and warmer things that they had brought against the
oncoming of winter.
'Where does that other old animal, that Fatty Lumpkin, come from?'
asked Frodo.
'He's mine,' said Tom. 'My four-legged friend; though I seldom ride
him, and he wanders often far, free upon the hillsides. When your ponies
stayed with me, they got to know my Lumpkin; and they smelt him in the
night, and quickly ran to meet him. I thought he'd look for them and with
his words of wisdom take all their fear away. But now, my jolly Lumpkin, old
Tom's going to ride. Hey! he's coming with you, just to set you on the road;
so he needs a pony. For you cannot easily talk to hobbits that are riding,
when you're on your own legs trying to trot beside them.'
The hobbits were delighted to hear this, and thanked Tom many times;
but he laughed, and said that they were so good at losing themselves that he
would not feel happy till he had seen them safe over the borders of his
land. 'I've got things to do,' he said: 'my making and my singing, my
talking and my walking, and my watching of the country. Tom can't be always
near to open doors and willow-cracks. Tom has his house to mind, and
Goldberry is waiting.'
It was still fairly early by the sun, something between nine and ten,
and the hobbits turned their minds to food. Their last meal had been lunch
beside the standing stone the day before. They breakfasted now off the
remainder of Tom's provisions, meant for their supper, with additions that
Tom had brought with him. It was not a large meal (considering hobbits and
the circumstances), but they felt much better for it. While they were eating
Tom went up to the mound, and looked through the treasures. Most of these he
made into a pile that glistened and sparkled on the grass. He bade them lie
there 'free to all finders, birds, beasts. Elves or Men, and all kindly
creatures'; for so the spell of the mound should be broken and scattered and
no Wight ever come back to it. He chose for himself from the pile a brooch
set with blue stones, many-shaded like flax-flowers or the wings of blue
butterflies. He looked long at it, as if stirred by some memory, shaking his
head, and saying at last:
'Here is a pretty toy for Tom and for his lady! Fair was she who long
ago wore this on her shoulder. Goldberry shall wear it now, and we will not
forget her!'
For each of the hobbits he chose a dagger, long, leaf-shaped, and keen,
of marvellous workmanship, damasked with serpent-forms in red and gold.
They
gleamed as he drew them from their black sheaths, wrought of some strange
metal, light and strong, and set with many fiery stones. Whether by some
virtue in these sheaths or because of the spell that lay on the mound, the
blades seemed untouched by time, unrusted, sharp, glittering in the sun.
'Old knives are long enough as swords for hobbit-people,' he said.
'Sharp blades are good to have, if Shire-folk go walking, east, south, or
far away into dark and danger.' Then he told them that these blades were
forged many long years ago by Men of Westernesse: they were foes of the
Dark
Lord, but they were overcome by the evil king of Carn Dym in the Land of
Angmar.
'Few now remember them,' Tom murmured, 'yet still some go wandering,
sons of forgotten kings walking in loneliness, guarding from evil things
folk that are heedless.'
The hobbits did not understand his words, but as he spoke they had a
vision as it were of a great expanse of years behind them, like a vast
shadowy plain over which there strode shapes of Men, tall and grim with
bright swords, and last came one with a star on his brow. Then the vision
faded, and they were back in the sunlit world. It was time to start again.
They made ready, packing their bags and lading their ponies. Their new
weapons they hung on their leather belts under their jackets, feeling them
very awkward, and wondering if they would be of any use. Fighting had not
before occurred to any of them as one of the adventures in which their
flight would land them.
At last they set off. They led their ponies down the hill; and then
mounting they trotted quickly along the valley. They looked back and saw the
top of the old mound on the hill, and from it the sunlight on the gold went
up like a yellow flame. Then they turned a shoulder of the Downs and it was
hidden from view.
Though Frodo looked about him on every side he saw no sign of the great
stones standing like a gate, and before long they came to the northern gap
and rode swiftly through, and the land fell away before them. It was a merry
journey with Tom Bombadil trotting gaily beside them, or before them, on
Fatty Lumpkin, who could move much faster than his girth promised. Tom
sang
most of the time, but it was chiefly nonsense, or else perhaps a strange
language unknown to the hobbits, an ancient language whose words were
mainly
those of wonder and delight.
They went forward steadily, but they soon saw that the Road was further
away than they had imagined. Even without a fog, their sleep at mid-day
would have prevented them from reaching it until after nightfall on the day
before. The dark line they had seen was not a line of trees but a line of
bushes growing on the edge of a deep dike with a steep wall on the further
side. Tom said that it had once been the boundary of a kingdom, but a very
long lime ago. He seemed to remember something sad about it, and would not
say much.
They climbed down and out of the dike and through a gap in the wall,
and then Tom turned due north, for they had been bearing somewhat to the
west. The land was now open and fairly level, and they quickened their pace,
but the sun was already sinking low when at last they saw a line of tall
trees ahead, and they knew that they had come back to the Road after many
unexpected adventures. They galloped their ponies over the last furlongs,
and halted under the long shadows of the trees. They were on the top of a
sloping bank, and the Road, now dim as evening drew on, wound away
below
them. At this point it ran nearly from South-west to North-east, and on
their right it fell quickly down into a wide hollow. It was rutted and bore
many signs of the recent heavy rain; there were pools and pot-holes full of
water. They rode down the bank and looked up and down. There was nothing
to
be seen. 'Well, here we are again at last!' said Frodo. 'I suppose we
haven't lost more than two days by my short cut through the Forest! But
perhaps the delay will prove useful - it may have put them off our trail.'
The others looked at him. The shadow of the fear of the Black Riders
came suddenly over them again. Ever since they had entered the Forest they
had thought chiefly of getting back to the Road; only now when it lay
beneath their feet did they remember the danger which pursued them, and was
more than likely to be lying in wait for them upon the Road itself. They
looked anxiously back towards the setting sun, but the Road was brown and
empty.
'Do you think,' asked Pippin hesitatingly, 'do you think we may be
pursued, tonight?'
'No, I hope not tonight,' answered Tom Bombadil; 'nor perhaps the next
day. But do not trust my guess; for I cannot tell for certain. Out east my
knowledge fails. Tom is not master of Riders from the Black Land far beyond
his country.'
All the same the hobbits wished he was coming with them. They felt that
he would know how to deal with Black Riders, if anyone did. They would
soon
now be going forward into lands wholly strange to them, and beyond all but
the most vague and distant legends of the Shire, and in the gathering
twilight they longed for home. A deep loneliness and sense of loss was on
them. They stood silent, reluctant to make the final parting, and only
slowly became aware that Tom was wishing them farewell, and telling them to
have good heart and to ride on till dark without halting.
'Tom will give you good advice, till this day is over (after that your
own luck must go with you and guide you): four miles along the Road you'll
come upon a village, Bree under Bree-hill, with doors looking westward.
There you'll find an old inn that is called The Prancing Pony. Barliman
Butterbur is the worthy keeper. There you can stay the night, and afterwards
the morning will speed you upon your way. Be bold, but wary! Keep up your
merry hearts, and ride to meet your fortune!'
They begged him to come at least as far as the inn and drink once more
with them; but he laughed and refused, saying:
Tom's country ends here: he will not pass the borders.
Tom has his house to mind, and Goldberry is waiting!
Then he turned, tossed up his hat, leaped on Lumpkin's back, and rode
up over the bank and away singing into the dusk.
The hobbits climbed up and watched him until he was out of sight.
'I am sorry to take leave of Master Bombadil,' said Sam. 'He's a
caution and no mistake. I reckon we may go a good deal further and see
naught better, nor queerer. But I won't deny I'll be glad to see this
Prancing Pony he spoke of. I hope it'll be like The Green Dragon away back
home! What sort of folk are they in Bree?'
'There are hobbits in Bree,' said Merry, 'as well as Big Folk. I
daresay it will be homelike enough. The Pony is a good inn by all accounts.
My people ride out there now and again.'
'It may be all we could wish,' said Frodo; 'but it is outside the Shire
all the same. Don't make yourselves too much at home! Please remember -all
of you - that the name of Baggins must NOT be mentioned. I am Mr. Underhill,
if any name must be given.'
They now mounted their ponies and rode off silently into the evening.
Darkness came down quickly, as they plodded slowly downhill and up again,
until at last they saw lights twinkling some distance ahead.
Before them rose Bree-hill barring the way, a dark mass against misty
stars; and under its western flank nestled a large village. Towards it they
now hurried desiring only to find a fire, and a door between them and the
night.
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The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 10 - Strider (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 15 - The Ring Goes South (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 20 - The Great River (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 21 - The Breaking of the Fellowship (1)


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Showing posts with label The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark. Show all posts
Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark.
As they prepared for sleep in the inn at Bree, darkness lay on
Buckland; a mist strayed in the dells and along the river-bank. The house at
Crickhollow stood silent. Fatty Bolger opened the door cautiously and peered
out. A feeling of fear had been growing on him all day, and he was unable to
rest or go to bed: there was a brooding threat in the breathless night-air.
As he stared out into the gloom, a black shadow moved under the trees; the
gate seemed to open of its own accord and close again without a sound.
Terror seized him. He shrank back, and for a moment he stood trembling in
the hall. Then he shut and locked the door.
The night deepened. There came the soft sound of horses led with
stealth along the lane. Outside the gate they stopped, and three black
figures entered, like shades of night creeping across the ground. One went
to the door, one to the corner of the house on either side; and there they
stood, as still as the shadows of stones, while night went slowly on. The
house and the quiet trees seemed to be waiting breathlessly.
There was a faint stir in the leaves, and a cock crowed far away. The
cold hour before dawn was passing. The figure by the door moved. In the dark
without moon or stars a drawn blade gleamed, as if a chill light had been
unsheathed. There was a blow, soft but heavy, and the door shuddered.
'Open, in the name of Mordor!' said a voice thin and menacing.
At a second blow the door yielded and fell back, with timbers burst and
lock broken. The black figures passed swiftly in.
At that moment, among the trees nearby, a horn rang out. It rent the
night like fire on a hill-top.
AWAKE! FEAR! FIRE! FOES! AWAKE!
Fatty Bolger had not been idle. As soon as he saw the dark shapes creep
from the garden, he knew that he must run for it, or perish. And run he did,
out of the back door, through the garden, and over the fields. When he
reached the nearest house, more than a mile away, he collapsed on the
doorstep. 'No, no, no!' he was crying. 'No, not me! I haven't got it!' It
was some time before anyone could make out what he was babbling about.
At
last they got the idea that enemies were in Buckland, some strange invasion
from the Old Forest. And then they lost no more time.
FEAR! FIRE! FOES!
The Brandybucks were blowing the Horn-call of Buckland, that had not
been sounded for a hundred years, not since the white wolves came in the
Fell Winter, when the Brandywine was frozen over.
AWAKE! AWAKE!
Far-away answering horns were heard. The alarm was spreading. The black
figures fled from the house. One of them let fall a hobbit-cloak on the
step, as he ran. In the lane the noise of hoofs broke out, and gathering to
a gallop, went hammering away into the darkness. All about Crickhollow there
was the sound of horns blowing, and voices crying and feet running. But the
Black Riders rode like a gale to the North-gate. Let the little people blow!
Sauron would deal with them later. Meanwhile they had another errand: they
knew now that the house was empty and the Ring had gone. They rode down
the
guards at the gate and vanished from the Shire.
In the early night Frodo woke from deep sleep, suddenly, as if some
sound or presence had disturbed him. He saw that Strider was sitting alert
in his chair: his eyes gleamed in the light of the fire, which had been
tended and was burning brightly; but he made no sign or movement.
Frodo soon went to sleep again; but his dreams were again troubled with
the noise of wind and of galloping hoofs. The wind seemed to be curling
round the house and shaking it; and far off he heard a horn blowing wildly.
He opened his eyes, and heard a cock crowing lustily in the inn-yard.
Strider had drawn the curtains and pushed back the shutters with a clang.
The first grey light of day was in the room, and a cold air was coming
through the open window.
As soon as Strider had roused them all, he led the way to their
bedrooms. When they saw them they were glad that they had taken his advice:
the windows had been forced open and were swinging, and the curtains were
flapping; the beds were tossed about, and the bolsters slashed and flung
upon the floor; the brown mat was torn to pieces.
Strider immediately went to fetch the landlord. Poor Mr. Butterbur
looked sleepy and frightened. He had hardly closed his eyes all night (so he
said), but he had never heard a sound.
'Never has such a thing happened in my time!' he cried, raising his
hands in horror. 'Guests unable to sleep in their beds, and good bolsters
ruined and all! What are we coming to?'
'Dark times,' said Strider. 'But for the present you may be left in
peace, when you have got rid of us. We will leave at once. Never mind about
breakfast: a drink and a bite standing will have to do. We shall be packed
in a few minutes.'
Mr. Butterbur hurried off to see that their ponies were got ready, and
to fetch them a 'bite'. But very soon he came back in dismay. The ponies had
vanished! The stable-doors had all been opened in the night, and they were
gone: not only Merry's ponies, but every other horse and beast in the place.
Frodo was crushed by the news. How could they hope to reach Rivendell
on foot, pursued by mounted enemies? They might as well set out for the
Moon. Strider sat silent for a while, looking at the hobbits, as if he was
weighing up their strength and courage.
'Ponies would not help us to escape horsemen,' he said at last,
thoughtfully, as if he guessed what Frodo had in mind. 'We should not go
much slower on foot, not on the roads that I mean to take. I was going to
walk in any case. It is the food and stores that trouble me. We cannot count
on getting anything to eat between here and Rivendell, except what we take
with us; and we ought to take plenty to spare; for we may be delayed, or
forced to go round-about, far out of the direct way. How much are you
prepared to carry on your backs?'
'As much as we must,' said Pippin with a sinking heart, but trying to
show that he was tougher than he looked (or felt).
'I can carry enough for two,' said Sam defiantly.
'Can't anything be done, Mr. Butterbur?' asked Frodo. 'Can't we get a
couple of ponies in the village, or even one just for the baggage? I don't
suppose we could hire them, but we might be able to buy them,' he added,
doubtfully, wondering if he could afford it.
'I doubt it,' said the landlord unhappily. 'The two or three
riding-ponies that there were in Bree were stabled in my yard, and they're
gone. As for other animals, horses or ponies for draught or what not, there
are very few of them in Bree, and they won't be for sale. But I'll do what I
can. I'll rout out Bob and send him round as soon as may be.'
'Yes,' said Strider reluctantly, 'you had better do that. I am afraid
we shall have to try to get one pony at least. But so ends all hope of
starting early, and slipping away quietly! We might as well have blown a
horn to announce our departure. That was part of their plan, no doubt.'
'There is one crumb of comfort,' said Merry, 'and more than a crumb, I
hope: we can have breakfast while we wait - and sit down to it. Let's get
hold of Nob!'
In the end there was more than three hours' delay. Bob came back with
the report that no horse or pony was to be got for love or money in the
neighbourhood - except one: Bill Ferny had one that he might possibly sell.
'A poor old half-starved creature it is,' said Bob; 'but he won't part with
it for less than thrice its worth, seeing how you're placed, not if I knows
Bill Ferny.'
'Bill Ferny?' said Frodo. 'Isn't there some trick? Wouldn't the beast
bolt back to him with all our stuff, or help in tracking us, or something?'
'I wonder,' said Strider. 'But I cannot imagine any animal running home
to him, once it got away. I fancy this is only an afterthought of kind
Master Ferny's: just a way of increasing his profits from the affair. The
chief danger is that the poor beast is probably at death's door. But there
does not seem any choice. What does he want for it?'
Bill Ferny's price was twelve silver pennies; and that was indeed at
least three times the pony's value in those pans. It proved to be a bony,
underfed, and dispirited animal; but it did not look like dying just yet.
Mr. Butterbur paid for it himself, and offered Merry another eighteen pence
as some compensation for the lost animals. He was an honest man, and
well-off as things were reckoned in Bree; but thirty silver pennies was a
sore blow to him, and being cheated by Bill Ferny made it harder to bear.
As a matter of fact he came out on the right side in the end. It turned
out later that only one horse had been actually stolen. The others had been
driven off, or had bolted in terror, and were found wandering in different
corners of the Bree-land. Merry's ponies had escaped altogether, and
eventually (having a good deal of sense) they made their way to the Downs in
search of Fatty Lumpkin. So they came under the care of Tom Bombadil for a
while, and were well-off. But when news of the events at Bree came to Tom's
ears, he sent them to Mr. Butterbur, who thus got five good beasts at a very
fair price. They had to work harder in Bree, but Bob treated them well; so
on the whole they were lucky: they missed a dark and dangerous journey. But
they never came to Rivendell.
However, in the meanwhile for all Mr. Butterbur knew his money was gone
for good, or for bad. And he had other troubles. For there was a great
commotion as soon as the remaining guests were astir and heard news of the
raid on the inn. The southern travellers had lost several horses and blamed
the innkeeper loudly, until it became known that one of their own number had
also disappeared in the night, none other than Bill Ferny's squint-eyed
companion. Suspicion fell on him at once.
'If you pick up with a horse-thief, and bring him to my house,' said
Butterbur angrily, 'you ought to pay for all the damage yourselves and not
come shouting at me. Go and ask Ferny where your handsome friend is!' But it
appeared that he was nobody's friend, and nobody could recollect when he had
joined their party.
After their breakfast the hobbits had to re-pack, and get together
further supplies for the longer journey they were now expecting. It was
close on ten o'clock before they at last got off. By that time the whole of
Bree was buzzing with excitement. Frodo's vanishing trick; the appearance of
the black horsemen; the robbing of the stables; and not least the news that
Strider the Ranger had joined the mysterious hobbits, made such a tale as
would last for many uneventful years. Most of the inhabitants of Bree and
Staddle, and many even from Combe and Archet, were crowded in the road
to
see the travellers start. The other guests in the inn were at the doors or
hanging out of the windows.
Strider had changed his mind, and he decided to leave Bree by the main
road. Any attempt to set off across country at once would only make matters
worse: half the inhabitants would follow them, to see what they were up to,
and to prevent them from trespassing.
They said farewell to Nob and Bob, and took leave of Mr. Butterbur with
many thanks. 'I hope we shall meet again some day, when things are merry
once more,' said Frodo. 'I should like nothing better than to stay in your
house in peace for a while.'
They tramped off, anxious and downhearted, under the eyes of the crowd.
Not all the faces were friendly, nor all the words that were shouted. But
Strider seemed to be held in awe by most of the Bree-landers, and those that
he stared at shut their mouths and drew away. He walked in front with Frodo;
next came Merry and Pippin; and last came Sam leading the pony, which was
laden with as much of their baggage as they had the heart to give it; but
already it looked less dejected, as if it approved of the change in its
fortunes. Sam was chewing an apple thoughtfully. He had a pocket full of
them: a parting present from Nob and Bob. 'Apples for walking, and a pipe
for sitting,' he said. 'But I reckon I'll miss them both before long.'
The hobbits took no notice of the inquisitive heads that peeped out of
doors, or popped over walls and fences, as they passed. But as they drew
near to the further gate, Frodo saw a dark ill-kept house behind a thick
hedge: the last house in the village. In one of the windows he caught a
glimpse of a sallow face with sly, slanting eyes; but it vanished at once.
'So that's where that southerner is hiding!' he thought. 'He looks more
than half like a goblin.'
Over the hedge another man was staring boldly. He had heavy black
brows, and dark scornful eyes; his large mouth curled in a sneer. He was
smoking a short black pipe. As they approached he took it out of his mouth
and spat.
'Morning, Longshanks!' he said. 'Off early? Found some friends at
last?' Strider nodded, but did not answer. 'Morning, my little friends!' he
said to the others. 'I suppose you know who you've taken up with? That's
Stick-at-naught Strider, that is! Though I've heard other names not so
pretty. Watch out tonight! And you, Sammie, don't go ill-treating my poor
old pony! Pah!' He spat again.
Sam turned quickly. 'And you. Ferny,' he said, 'put your ugly face out
of sight, or it will get hurt.' With a sudden flick, quick as lightning, an
apple left his hand and hit Bill square on the nose. He ducked too late, and
curses came from behind the hedge. 'Waste of a good apple,' said Sam
regretfully, and strode on.
At last they left the village behind. The escort of children and
stragglers that had followed them got tired and turned back at the
South-gate. Passing through, they kept on along the Road for some miles. It
bent to the left, curving back into its eastward line as it rounded the feet
of Bree-hill, and then it began to run swiftly downwards into wooded
country. To their left they could see some of the houses and hobbit-holes of
Staddle on the gentler south-eastern slopes of the hill; down in a deep
hollow away north of the Road there were wisps of rising smoke that showed
where Combe lay;
Archet was hidden in the trees beyond.
After the Road had run down some way, and had left Bree-hill standing
tall and brown behind, they came on a narrow track that led off towards the
North. 'This is where we leave the open and take to cover,' said Strider.
'Not a "short cut", I hope,' said Pippin. 'Our last short cut through
woods nearly ended in disaster.'
'Ah, but you had not got me with you then,' laughed Strider. 'My cuts,
short or long, don't go wrong.' He took a look up and down the Road. No one
was in sight; and he led the way quickly down towards the wooded valley.
His plan, as far as they could understand it without knowing the
country, was to go towards Archet at first, but to bear right and pass it on
the east, and then to steer as straight as he could over the wild lands to
Weathertop Hill. In that way they would, if all went well, cut off a great
loop of the Road, which further on bent southwards to avoid the Midgewater
Marshes. But, of course, they would have to pass through the marshes
themselves, and Strider's description of them was not encouraging.
However, in the meanwhile, walking was not unpleasant. Indeed, if it
had not been for the disturbing events of the night before, they would have
enjoyed this pan of the journey better than any up to that time. The sun was
shining, clear but not too hot. The woods in the valley were still leafy and
full of colour, and seemed peaceful and wholesome. Strider guided them
confidently among the many crossing paths, although left to themselves they
would soon have been at a loss. He was taking a wandering course with many
turns and doublings, to put off any pursuit.
'Bill Ferny will have watched where we left the Road, for certain,' he
said; 'though I don't think he will follow us himself. He knows the land
round here well enough, but he knows he is not a match for me in a wood. It
is what he may tell others that I am afraid of. I don't suppose they are far
away. If they think we have made for Archet, so much the better.'
Whether because of Strider's skill or for some other reason, they saw
no sign and heard no sound of any other living thing all that day: neither
two-footed, except birds; nor four-footed, except one fox and a few
squirrels. The next day they began to steer a steady course eastwards; and
still all was quiet and peaceful. On the third day out from Bree they came
out of the Chetwood. The land had been falling steadily, ever since they
turned aside from the Road, and they now entered a wide flat expanse of
country, much more difficult to manage. They were far beyond the borders of
the Bree-land, out in the pathless wilderness, and drawing near to the
Midge-water Marshes.
The ground now became damp, and in places boggy and here and there they
came upon pools, and wide stretches of reeds and rushes filled with the
warbling of little hidden birds. They had to pick their way carefully to
keep both dry-footed and on their proper course. At first they made
fan-progress, but as they went on, their passage became slower and more
dangerous. The marshes were bewildering and treacherous, and there was no
permanent trail even for Rangers to find through their shifting quagmires.
The flies began to torment them, and the air was full of clouds of tiny
midges that crept up their sleeves and breeches and into their hair.
'I am being eaten alive!' cried Pippin. 'Midgewater! There are more
midges than water!'
'What do they live on when they can't get hobbit?' asked Sam,
scratching his neck.
They spent a miserable day in this lonely and unpleasant country. Their
camping-place was damp, cold, and uncomfortable; and the biting insects
would not let them sleep. There were also abominable creatures haunting the
reeds and tussocks that from the sound of them were evil relatives of the
cricket. There were thousands of them, and they squeaked all round,
neek-breek, breek-neek, unceasingly all the night, until the hobbits were
nearly frantic.
The next day, the fourth, was little better, and the night almost as
comfortless. Though the Neekerbreekers (as Sam called them) had been left
behind, the midges still pursued them.
As Frodo lay, tired but unable to close his eyes, it seemed to him that
far away there came a light in the eastern sky: it flashed and faded many
times. It was not the dawn, for that was still some hours off.
'What is the light?' he said to Strider, who had risen, and was
standing, gazing ahead into the night.
'I do not know,' Strider answered. 'It is too distant to make out. It
is like lightning that leaps up from the hill-tops.'
Frodo lay down again, but for a long while he could still see the white
flashes, and against them the tall dark figure of Strider, standing silent
and watchful. At last he passed into uneasy sleep.
They had not gone far on the fifth day when they left the last
straggling pools and reed-beds of the marshes behind them. The land before
them began steadily to rise again. Away in the distance eastward they could
now see a line of hills. The highest of them was at the right of the line
and a little separated from the others. It had a conical top, slightly
flattened at the summit.
'That is Weathertop,' said Strider. 'The Old Road, which we have left
far away on our right, runs to the south of it and passes not far from its
foot. We might reach it by noon tomorrow, if we go straight towards it. I
suppose we had better do so.'
'What do you mean?' asked Frodo.
'I mean: when we do get there, it is not certain what we shall find. It
is close to the Road.'
'But surely we were hoping to find Gandalf there?'
'Yes; but the hope is faint. If he comes this way at all, he may not
pass through Bree, and so he may not know what we are doing. And anyway,
unless by luck we arrive almost together, we shall miss one another; it will
not be safe for him or for us to wait there long. If the Riders fail to find
us in the wilderness, they are likely to make for Weathertop themselves. It
commands a wide view all round. Indeed, there are many birds and beasts in
this country that could see us, as we stand here, from that hill-top. Not
all the birds are to be trusted, and there are other spies more evil than
they are.'
The hobbits looked anxiously at the distant hills. Sam looked up into
the pale sky, fearing to see hawks or eagles hovering over them with bright
unfriendly eyes. 'You do make me feel uncomfortable and lonesome, Strider!'
he said.
'What do you advise us to do?' asked Frodo.
'I think,' answered Strider slowly, as if he was not quite sure, 'I
think the best thing is to go as straight eastward from here as we can, to
make for the line of hills, not for Weathertop. There we can strike a path I
know that runs at their feet; it will bring us to Weathertop from the north
and less openly. Then we shall see what we shall see.'
All that day they plodded along, until the cold and early evening came
down. The land became drier and more barren; but mists and vapours lay
behind them on the marshes. A few melancholy birds were piping and wailing,
until the round red sun sank slowly into the western shadows; then an empty
silence fell. The hobbits thought of the soft light of sunset glancing
through the cheerful windows of Bag End far away.
At the day's end they came to a stream that wandered down from the
hills to lose itself in the stagnant marshland, and they went up along its
banks while the light lasted. It was already night when at last they halted
and made their camp under some stunted alder-trees by the shores of the
stream. Ahead there loomed now against the dusky sky the bleak and treeless
backs of the hills. That night they set a watch, and Strider, it seemed, did
not sleep at all. The moon was waxing, and in the early night-hours a cold
grey light lay on the land.
Next morning they set out again soon after sunrise. There was a frost
in the air, and the sky was a pale clear blue. The hobbits felt refreshed,
as if they had had a night of unbroken sleep. Already they were getting used
to much walking on short commons - shorter at any rate than what in the
Shire they would have thought barely enough to keep them on their legs.
Pippin declared that Frodo was looking twice the hobbit that he had been.
'Very odd,' said Frodo, tightening his belt, 'considering that there is
actually a good deal less of me. I hope the thinning process will not go on
indefinitely, or I shall become a wraith.'
'Do not speak of such things!' said Strider quickly, and with
surprising earnestness.
The hills drew nearer. They made an undulating ridge, often rising
almost to a thousand feet, and here and there falling again to low clefts or
passes leading into the eastern land beyond. Along the crest of the ridge
the hobbits could see what looked to be the remains of green-grown walls and
dikes, and in the clefts there still stood the ruins of old works of stone.
By night they had reached the feet of the westward slopes, and there they
camped. It was the night of the fifth of October, and they were six days out
from Bree.
In the morning they found, for the first time since they had left the
Chetwood, a track plain to see. They turned right and followed it
southwards. It ran cunningly, taking a line that seemed chosen so as to keep
as much hidden as possible from the view, both of the hill-tops above and of
the flats to the west. It dived into dells, and hugged steep banks; and
where it passed over flatter and more open ground on either side of it there
were lines of large boulders and hewn stones that screened the travellers
almost like a hedge.
'I wonder who made this path, and what for,' said Merry, as they walked
along one of these avenues, where the stones were unusually large and
closely set. 'I am not sure that I like it: it has a - well, rather a
barrow-wightish look. Is there any barrow on Weathertop?'
'No. There is no barrow on Weathertop, nor on any of these hills,'
answered Strider. 'The Men of the West did not live here; though in their
latter days they defended the hills for a while against the evil that came
out of Angmar. This path was made to serve the forts along the walls. But
long before, in the first days of the North Kingdom, they built a great
watch-tower on Weathertop, Amon Syl they called it. It was burned and
broken, and nothing remains of it now but a tumbled ring, like a rough crown
on the old hill's head. Yet once it was tall and fair. It is told that
Elendil stood there watching for the coming of Gil-galad out of the West, in
the days of the Last Alliance.'
The hobbits gazed at Strider. It seemed that he was learned in old
lore, as well as in the ways of the wild. 'Who was Gil-galad?' asked Merry;
but Strider did not answer, and seemed to be lost in thought. Suddenly a low
voice murmured:
Gil-galad was an Elven-king.
Of him the harpers sadly sing:
the last whose realm was fair and free
between the Mountains and the Sea.
His sword was long, his lance was keen,
his shining helm afar was seen;
the countless stars of heaven's field
were mirrored in his silver shield.
But long ago he rode away,
and where he dwelleth none can say;
for into darkness fell his star
in Mordor where the shadows are.
The others turned in amazement, for the voice was Sam's.
'Don't stop!' said Merry.
'That's all I know,' stammered Sam, blushing. 'I learned it from Mr.
Bilbo when I was a lad. He used to tell me tales like that, knowing how I
was always one for hearing about Elves. It was Mr. Bilbo as taught me my
letters. He was mighty book-learned was dear old Mr. Bilbo. And he wrote
poetry. He wrote what I have just said.'
'He did not make it up,' said Strider. 'It is pan of the lay that is
called The Fall of Gil-galad, which is in an ancient tongue. Bilbo must have
translated it. I never knew that.'
'There was a lot more,' said Sam, 'all about Mordor. I didn't learn
that part, it gave me the shivers I never thought I should be going that way
myself!'
'Going to Mordor!' cried Pippin. 'I hope it won't come to that!'
'Do not speak that name so loudly!' said Strider.
It was already mid-day when they drew near the southern end of the
path, and saw before them, in the pale clear light of the October sun, a
grey-green bank, leading up like a bridge on to the northward slope of the
hill They decided to make for the top at once, while the daylight was broad
Concealment was no longer possible, and they could only hope that no enemy
or spy was observing them. Nothing was to be seen moving on the hill. If
Gandalf was anywhere about, there was no sign of him.
On the western flank of Weathertop they found a sheltered hollow, at
the bottom of which there was a bowl-shaped dell with grassy sides. There
they left Sam and Pippin with the pony and their packs and luggage. The
other three went on. After half an hour's plodding climb Strider reached the
crown of the hill; Frodo and Merry followed, tired and breathless. The last
slope had been steep and rocky.
On the top they found, as Strider had said, a wide ring of ancient
stonework, now crumbling or covered with age-long grass. But in the centre a
cairn of broken stones had been piled. They were blackened as if with fire.
About them the turf was burned to the roots and all within the ring the
grass was scorched and shrivelled, as if flames had swept the hill-top; but
there was no sign of any living thing.
Standing upon the rim of the ruined circle, they saw all round below
them a wide prospect, for the most pan of lands empty and featureless,
except for patches of woodland away to the south, beyond which they caught
here and there the glint of distant water. Beneath them on this southern
side there ran like a ribbon the Old Road, coming out of the West and
winding up and down, until it faded behind a ridge of dark land to the east.
Nothing was moving on it. Following its line eastward with their eyes they
saw the Mountains: the nearer foothills were brown and sombre;
behind them stood taller shapes of grey, and behind those again were
high white peaks glimmering among the clouds.
'Well, here we are!' said Merry. 'And very cheerless and uninviting it
looks! There is no water and no shelter. And no sign of Gandalf. But I don't
blame him for not waiting - if he ever came here.'
'I wonder,' said Strider, looking round thoughtfully. 'Even if he was a
day or two behind us at Bree, he could have arrived here first. He can ride
very swiftly when need presses.' Suddenly he stooped and looked at the stone
on the top of the cairn; it was flatter than the others, and whiter, as if
it had escaped the fire. He picked it up and examined it, turning it in his
fingers. "This has been handled recently,' he said. 'What do you think of
these marks?'
On the flat under-side Frodo saw some scratches: 'There seems to he a
stroke, a dot, and three more strokes,' he said.
'The stroke on the left might be a G-rune with thin branches,' said
Strider. 'It might be a sign left by Gandalf, though one cannot be sure. The
scratches are fine, and they certainly look fresh. But the marks might mean
something quite different, and have nothing to do with us. Rangers use
runes, and they come here sometimes.'
'What could they mean, even if Gandalf made them?' asked Merry
'I should say,' answered Strider, 'that they stood for G3, and were a
sign that Gandalf was here on October the third: that is three days ago now.
It would also show that he was in a hurry and danger was at hand, so that he
had no time or did not dare to write anything longer or plainer. If that is
so, we must be wary.'
'I wish we could feel sure that he made the marks, whatever they may
mean,' said Frodo 'It would be a great comfort to know that he was on the
way, in front of us or behind us.'
'Perhaps,' said Strider. 'For myself, I believe that he was here, and
was in danger. There have been scorching flames here; and now the light that
we saw three nights ago in the eastern sky comes back to my mind. I guess
that he was attacked on this hill-top, but with what result I cannot tell.
He is here no longer, and we must now look after ourselves and make our own
way to Rivendell, as best we can '
'How far is Rivendell?' asked Merry, gazing round wearily. The world
looked wild and wide from Weathertop.
'I don't know if the Road has ever been measured in miles beyond the
Forsaken Inn, a day's journey east of Bree,' answered Strider. 'Some say it
is so far, and some say otherwise. It is a strange road, and folk are glad
to reach their journey's end, whether the time is long or short. But I know
how long it would take me on my own feet, with fair weather and no ill
fortune twelve days from here to the Ford of Bruinen, where the Road crosses
the Loudwater that runs out of Rivendell. We have at least a fortnight's
journey before us, for I do not think we shall be able to use the Road.'
'A fortnight!' said Frodo. 'A lot may happen in that time.'
'It may,' said Strider.
They stood for a while silent on the hill-top, near its southward edge.
In that lonely place Frodo for the first time fully realized his
homelessness and danger. He wished bitterly that his fortune had left him in
the quiet and beloved Shire. He stared down at the hateful Road, leading
back westward - to his home. Suddenly he was aware that two black specks
were moving slowly along it, going westward; and looking again he saw that
three others were creeping eastward to meet them. He gave a cry and clutched
Strider's arm.
'Look,' he said, pointing downwards.
At once Strider flung himself on the ground behind the ruined circle,
pulling Frodo down beside him. Merry threw himself alongside.
'What is it?' he whispered.
'I do not know, but I fear the worst,' answered Strider.
Slowly they crawled up to the edge of the ring again, and peered
through a cleft between two jagged stones. The light was no longer bright,
for the clear morning had faded, and clouds creeping out of the East had now
overtaken the sun, as it began to go down. They could all see the black
specks, but neither Frodo nor Merry could make out their shapes for certain;
yet something told them that there, far below, were Black Riders assembling
on the Road beyond the foot of the hill.
'Yes,' said Strider, whose keener sight left him in no doubt. 'The
enemy is here!'
Hastily they crept away and slipped down the north side of the hill to
find their companions.
Sam and Peregrin had not been idle. They had explored the small dell
and the surrounding slopes. Not far away they found a spring of clear water
in the hillside, and near it footprints not more than a day or two old. In
the dell itself they found recent traces of a fire, and other signs of a
hasty camp. There were some fallen rocks on the edge of the dell nearest to
the hill. Behind them Sam came upon a small store of firewood neatly
stacked.
'I wonder if old Gandalf has been here,' he said to Pippin. 'Whoever it
was put this stuff here meant to come back it seems.'
Strider was greatly interested in these discoveries. 'I wish I had
waited and explored the ground down here myself,' he said, hurrying off to
the spring to examine the footprints.
'It is just as I feared,' he said, when he came back. 'Sam and Pippin
have trampled the soft ground, and the marks are spoilt or confused. Rangers
have been here lately. It is they who left the firewood behind. But there
are also several newer tracks that were not made by Rangers. At least one
set was made, only a day or two ago, by heavy boots. At least one. I cannot
now be certain, but I think there were many booted feet.' He paused and
stood in anxious thought.
Each of the hobbits saw in his mind a vision of the cloaked and booted
Riders. If the horsemen had already found the dell, the sooner Strider led
them somewhere else the better. Sam viewed the hollow with great dislike,
now that he had heard news of their enemies on the Road, only a few miles
away.
'Hadn't we better clear out quick, Mr. Strider?' he asked impatiently.
'It is getting late, and I don't like this hole: it makes my heart sink
somehow.'
'Yes, we certainly must decide what to do at once,' answered Strider,
looking up and considering the time and the weather. 'Well, Sam,' he said at
last, 'I do not like this place either; but I cannot think of anywhere
better that we could reach before nightfall. At least we are out of sight
for the moment, and if we moved we should be much more likely to be seen by
spies. All we could do would be to go right out of our way back north on
this side of the line of hills, where the land is all much the same as it is
here. The Road is watched, but we should have to cross it, if we tried to
take cover in the thickets away to the south. On the north side of the Road
beyond the hills the country is bare and flat for miles.'
'Can the Riders see?' asked Merry. 'I mean, they seem usually to have
used their noses rather than their eyes, smelling for us, if smelling is the
right word, at least in the daylight. But you made us lie down flat when you
saw them down below; and now you talk of being seen, if we move.'
'I was too careless on the hill-top,' answered Strider. 'I was very
anxious to find some sign of Gandalf; but it was a mistake for three of us
to go up and stand there so long. For the black horses can see, and the
Riders can use men and other creatures as spies, as we found at Bree. They
themselves do not see the world of light as we do, but our shapes cast
shadows in their minds, which only the noon sun destroys; and in the dark
they perceive many signs and forms that are hidden from us: then they are
most to be feared. And at all times they smell the blood of living things,
desiring and hating it. Senses, too, there are other than sight or smell. We
can feel their presence - it troubled our hearts, as soon as we came here,
and before we saw them; they feel ours more keenly. Also,' he added, and his
voice sank to a whisper, 'the Ring draws them.'
'Is there no escape then?' said Frodo, looking round wildly. 'If I move
I shall be seen and hunted! If I stay, I shall draw them to me!'
Strider laid his hand on his shoulder. 'There is still hope,' he said.
'You are not alone. Let us take this wood that is set ready for the fire as
a sign. There is little shelter or defence here, but fire shall serve for
both. Sauron can put fire to his evil uses, as he can all things, but these
Riders do not love it, and fear those who wield it. Fire is our friend in
the wilderness.'
'Maybe,' muttered Sam. 'It is also as good a way of saying "here we
are" as I can think of, bar shouting.'
Down in the lowest and most sheltered corner of the dell they lit a
fire, and prepared a meal. The shades of evening began to fall, and it grew
cold. They were suddenly aware of great hunger, for they had not eaten
anything since breakfast; but they dared not make more than a frugal supper.
The lands ahead were empty of all save birds and beasts, unfriendly places
deserted by all the races of the world. Rangers passed at times beyond the
hills, but they were few and did not stay. Other wanderers were rare, and of
evil sort: trolls might stray down at times out of the northern valleys of
the Misty Mountains. Only on the Road would travellers be found, most often
dwarves, hurrying along on business of their own, and with no help and few
words to spare for strangers.
'I don't see how our food can be made to last,' said Frodo. 'We have
been careful enough in the last few days, and this supper is no feast; but
we have used more than we ought, if we have two weeks still to go, and
perhaps more.'
'There is food in the wild,' said Strider; 'berry, root, and herb; and
I have some skill as a hunter at need. You need not be afraid of starving
before winter comes. But gathering and catching food is long and weary work,
and we need haste. So tighten your belts, and think with hope of the tables
of Elrond's house!'
The cold increased as darkness came on. Peering out from the edge of
the dell they could see nothing but a grey land now vanishing quickly into
shadow. The sky above had cleared again and was slowly filled with twinkling
stars. Frodo and his companions huddled round the fire, wrapped in every
garment and blanket they possessed; but Strider was content with a single
cloak, and sat a little apart, drawing thoughtfully at his pipe.
As night fell and the light of the fire began to shine out brightly he
began to tell them tales to keep their minds from fear. He knew many
histories and legends of long ago, of Elves and Men and the good and evil
deeds of the Elder Days. They wondered how old he was, and where he had
learned all this lore.
'Tell us of Gil-galad,' said Merry suddenly, when he paused at the end
of a story of the Elf-Kingdoms. 'Do you know any more of that old lay that
you spoke of?'
'I do indeed,' answered Strider. 'So also does Frodo, for it concerns
us closely.' Merry and Pippin looked at Frodo, who was staring into the
fire.
'I know only the little that Gandalf has told me,' said Frodo slowly.
'Gil-galad was the last of the great Elf-kings of Middle-earth. Gil-galad is
Starlight in their tongue. With Elendil, the Elf-friend, he went to the land
of------'
'No!' said Strider interrupting, 'I do not think that tale should be
told now with the servants of the Enemy at hand. If we win through to the
house of Elrond, you may hear it there, told in full.'
'Then tell us some other tale of the old days,' begged Sam; 'a tale
about the Elves before the fading time. I would dearly like to hear more
about Elves; the dark seems to press round so close.'
'I will tell you the tale of Tin®viel,' said Strider, 'in brief - for
it is a long tale of which the end is not known; and there are none now,
except Elrond, that remember it aright as it was told of old. It is a fair
tale, though it is sad, as are all the tales of Middle-earth, and yet it may
lift up your hearts.' He was silent for some time, and then he began not to
speak but to chant softly:
The leaves were long, the grass was green,
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
And in the glade a light was seen
Of stars in shadow shimmering.
Tin®viel was dancing there
To music of a pipe unseen,
And light of stars was in her hair,
And in her raiment glimmering.
There Beren came from mountains cold,
And lost he wandered under leaves,
And where the Elven-river rolled
He walked alone and sorrowing.
He peered between the hemlock-leaves
And saw in wander flowers of gold
Upon her mantle and her sleeves,
And her hair like shadow following.
Enchantment healed his weary feet
That over hills were doomed to roam;
And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,
And grasped at moonbeams glistening.
Through woven woods in Elvenhome
She tightly fled on dancing feet,
And left him lonely still to roam
In the silent forest listening.
He heard there oft the flying sound
Of feet as light as linden-leaves,
Or music welling underground,
In hidden hollows quavering.
Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,
And one by one with sighing sound
Whispering fell the beechen leaves
In the wintry woodland wavering.
He sought her ever, wandering far
Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,
By light of moon and ray of star
In frosty heavens shivering.
Her mantle glinted in the moon,
As on a hill-top high and far
She danced, and at her feet was strewn
A mist of silver quivering.
When winter passed, she came again,
And her song released the sudden spring,
Like rising lark, and falling rain,
And melting water bubbling.
He saw the elven-flowers spring
About her feet, and healed again
He longed by her to dance and sing
Upon the grass untroubling.
Again she fled, but swift he came.
Tin®viel! Tin®viel!
He called her by her elvish name;
And there she halted listening.
One moment stood she, and a spell
His voice laid on her: Beren came,
And doom fell on Tin®viel
That in his arms lay glistening.
As Beren looked into her eyes
Within the shadows of her hair,
The trembling starlight of the skies
He saw there mirrored shimmering.
Tin®viel the elven-fair,
Immortal maiden elven-wise,
About him cast her shadowy hair
And arms like silver glimmering.
Long was the way that fate them bore,
O'er stony mountains cold and grey,
Through halls of iron and darkling door,
And woods of nightshade morrowless.
The Sundering Seas between them lay,
And yet at last they met once more,
And long ago they passed away
In the forest singing sorrowless.
Strider sighed and paused before he spoke again. 'That is a song,' he
said, 'in the mode that is called ann-thennath among the Elves, but is hard
to render in our Common Speech, and this is but a rough echo of it. It tells
of the meeting of Beren son of Barahir and L®thien Tin®viel. Beren was a
mortal man, but L®thien was the daughter of Thingol, a King of Elves upon
Middle-earth when the world was young; and she was the fairest maiden that
has ever been among all the children of this world. As the stars above the
mists of the Northern lands was her loveliness, and in her face was a
shining light. In those days the Great Enemy, of whom Sauron of Mordor was
but a servant, dwelt in Angband in the North, and the Elves of the West
coming back to Middle-earth made war upon him to regain the Silmarils which
he had stolen; and the fathers of Men aided the Elves. But the Enemy was
victorious and Barahir was slain, and Beren escaping through great peril
came over the Mountains of Terror into the hidden Kingdom of Thingol in the
forest of Neldoreth. There he beheld L®thien singing and dancing in a glade
beside the enchanted river Esgalduin; and he named her Tin®viel, that is
Nightingale in the language of old. Many sorrows befell them afterwards, and
they were parted long. Tin®viel rescued Beren from the dungeons of Sauron,
and together they passed through great dangers, and cast down even the Great
Enemy from his throne, and took from his iron crown one of the three
Silmarils, brightest of all jewels, to be the bride-price of L®thien to
Thingol her father. Yet at the last Beren was slain by the Wolf that came
from the gates of Angband, and he died in the arms of Tin®viel. But she
chose mortality, and to die from the world, so that she might follow him;
and it is sung that they met again beyond the Sundering Seas, and after a
brief time walking alive once more in the green woods, together they passed,
long ago, beyond the confines of this world. So it is that L®thien Tin®viel
alone of the Elf-kindred has died indeed and left the world, and they have
lost her whom they most loved. But from her the lineage of the Elf-lords of
old descended among Men. There live still those of whom L®thien was the
foremother, and it is said that her line shall never fail. Elrond of
Rivendell is of that Kin. For of Beren and L®thien was born Dior Thingol's
heir; and of him Elwing the White whom Edrendil wedded, he that sailed his
ship out of the mists of the world into the seas of heaven with the Silmaril
upon his brow. And of Edrendil came the Kings of N®menor, that is
Westernesse.'
As Strider was speaking they watched his strange eager face, dimly lit
in the red glow of the wood-fire. His eyes shone, and his voice was rich and
deep. Above him was a black starry sky. Suddenly a pale light appeared over
the crown of Weathertop behind him. The waxing moon was climbing
slowly
above the hill that overshadowed them, and the stars above the hill-top
faded.
The story ended. The hobbits moved and stretched. 'Look!' said Merry.
'The Moon is rising: it must be getting late.'
The others looked up. Even as they did so, they saw on the top of the
hill something small and dark against the glimmer of the moonrise. It was
perhaps only a large stone or jutting rock shown up by the pale light.
Sam and Merry got up and walked away from the fire. Frodo and Pippin
remained seated in silence. Strider was watching the moonlight on the hill
intently. All seemed quiet and still, but Frodo felt a cold dread creeping
over his heart, now that Strider was no longer speaking. He huddled closer
to the fire. At that moment Sam came running back from the edge of the dell.
'I don't know what it is,' he said, 'but I suddenly felt afraid. I
durstn't go outside this dell for any money; I felt that something was
creeping up the slope.'
'Did you see anything?' asked Frodo, springing to his feet.
'No, sir. I saw nothing, but I didn't stop to look.'
'I saw something,' said Merry; 'or I thought I did - away westwards
where the moonlight was falling on the flats beyond the shadow of the
hill-tops, I thought there were two or three black shapes. They seemed to be
moving this way.'
'Keep close to the fire, with your faces outward!' cried Strider. 'Get
some of the longer sticks ready in your hands!'
For a breathless time they sat there, silent and alert, with their
backs turned to the wood-fire, each gazing into the shadows that encircled
them. Nothing happened. There was no sound or movement in the night.
Frodo
stirred, feeling that he must break the silence: he longed to shout out
aloud.
'Hush!' whispered Strider. 'What's that?' gasped Pippin at the same
moment.
Over the lip of the little dell, on the side away from the hill, they
felt, rather than saw, a shadow rise, one shadow or more than one. They
strained their eyes, and the shadows seemed to grow. Soon there could be no
doubt:
three or four tall black figures were standing there on the slope,
looking down on them. So black were they that they seemed like black holes
in the deep shade behind them. Frodo thought that he heard a faint hiss as
of venomous breath and felt a thin piercing chill. Then the shapes slowly
advanced.
Terror overcame Pippin and Merry, and they threw themselves flat on the
ground. Sam shrank to Frodo's side. Frodo was hardly less terrified than his
companions; he was quaking as if he was bitter cold, but his terror was
swallowed up in a sudden temptation to put on the Ring. The desire to do
this laid hold of him, and he could think of nothing else. He did not forget
the Barrow, nor the message of Gandalf; but something seemed to be
compelling him to disregard all warnings, and he longed to yield. Not with
the hope of escape, or of doing anything, either good or bad: he simply felt
that he must take the Ring and put it on his finger. He could not speak. He
felt Sam looking at him, as if he knew that his master was in some great
trouble, but he could not turn towards him. He shut his eyes and struggled
for a while; but resistance became unbearable, and at last he slowly drew
out the chain, and slipped the Ring on the forefinger of his left hand.
Immediately, though everything else remained as before, dim and dark,
the shapes became terribly clear. He was able to see beneath their black
wrappings. There were five tall figures: two standing on the lip of the
dell, three advancing. In their white faces burned keen and merciless eyes;
under their mantles were long grey robes; upon their grey hairs were helms
of silver; in their haggard hands were swords of steel. Their eyes fell on
him and pierced him, as they rushed towards him. Desperate, he drew his own
sword, and it seemed to him that it flickered red, as if it was a firebrand.
Two of the figures halted. The third was taller than the others: his hair
was long and gleaming and on his helm was a crown. In one hand he held a
long sword, and in the other a knife; both the knife and the hand that held
it glowed with a pale light. He sprang forward and bore down on Frodo.
At that moment Frodo threw himself forward on the ground, and he heard
himself crying aloud: O Elbereth! Gilthoniel! At the same time he struck at
the feet of his enemy. A shrill cry rang out in the night; and he felt a
pain like a dart of poisoned ice pierce his left shoulder. Even as he
swooned he caught, as through a swirling mist, a glimpse of Strider leaping
out of the darkness with a flaming brand of wood in either hand. With a last
effort Frodo, dropping his sword, slipped the Ring from his finger and
closed his right hand tight upon it.
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The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 10 - Strider (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 15 - The Ring Goes South (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 20 - The Great River (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 21 - The Breaking of the Fellowship (1)


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Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford.
When Frodo came to himself he was still clutching the Ring desperately.
He was lying by the fire, which was now piled high and burning brightly. His
three companions were bending over him. 'What has happened? Where is the
pale king?' he asked wildly. They were too overjoyed to hear him speak to
answer for a while; nor did they understand his question. At length he
gathered from Sam that they had seen nothing but the vague shadowy shapes
coming towards them. Suddenly to his horror Sam found that his master had
vanished; and at that moment a black shadow rushed past him, and he fell. He
heard Frodo's voice, but it seemed to come from a great distance, or from
under the earth, crying out strange words. They saw nothing more, until they
stumbled over the body of Frodo, lying as if dead, face downwards on the
grass with his sword beneath him. Strider ordered them to pick him up and
lay him near the fire, and then he disappeared. That was now a good while
ago.
Sam plainly was beginning to have doubts again about Strider; but while
they were talking he returned, appearing suddenly out of the shadows. They
started, and Sam drew his sword and stood over Frodo; but Strider knelt down
swiftly at his side.
'I am not a Black Rider, Sam,' he said gently, 'nor in league with
them. I have been trying to discover something of their movements; but I
have found nothing. I cannot think why they have gone and do not attack
again. But there is no feeling of their presence anywhere at hand.'
When he heard what Frodo had to tell, he became full of concern, and
shook his head and sighed. Then he ordered Pippin and Merry to heat as much
water as they could in their small kettles, and to bathe the wound with it.
'Keep the fire going well, and keep Frodo warm!' he said. Then he got up and
walked away, and called Sam to him. 'I think I understand things better
now,' he said in a low voice. 'There seem only to have been five of the
enemy. Why they were not all here, I don't know; but I don't think they
expected to be resisted. They have drawn off for the time being. But not
far, I fear. They will come again another night, if we cannot escape. They
are only waiting, because they think that their purpose is almost
accomplished, and that the Ring cannot fly much further. I fear, Sam, that
they believe your master has a deadly wound that will subdue him to their
will. We shall see!' Sam choked with tears. 'Don't despair!' said Strider.
'You must trust me now. Your Frodo is made of sterner stuff than I had
guessed, though Gandalf hinted that it might prove so. He is not slain, and
I think he will resist the evil power of the wound longer than his enemies
expect. I will do all I can to help and heal him. Guard him well, while I am
away!' He hurried off and disappeared again into the darkness.
Frodo dozed, though the pain of his wound was slowly growing, and a
deadly chill was spreading from his shoulder to his arm and side. His
friends watched over him, warming him, and bathing his wound. The night
passed slowly and wearily. Dawn was growing in the sky, and the dell was
filling with grey light, when Strider at last returned.
'Look!' he cried; and stooping he lifted from the ground a black cloak
that had lain there hidden by the darkness. A foot above the lower hem there
was a slash. 'This was the stroke of Frodo's sword,' he said. 'The only hurt
that it did to his enemy, I fear; for it is unharmed, but all blades perish
that pierce that dreadful King. More deadly to him was the name of
Elbereth.'
'And more deadly to Frodo was this!' He stooped again and lifted up a
long thin knife. There was a cold gleam in it. As Strider raised it they saw
that near the end its edge was notched and the point was broken off. But
even as he held it up in the growing light, they gazed in astonishment, for
the blade seemed to melt, and vanished like a smoke in the air, leaving only
the hilt in Strider's hand. 'Alas!' he cried. 'It was this accursed knife
that gave the wound. Few now have the skill in healing to match such evil
weapons. But I will do what I can.'
He sat down on the ground, and taking the dagger-hilt laid it on his
knees, and he sang over it a slow song in a strange tongue. Then setting it
aside, he turned to Frodo and in a soft tone spoke words the others could
not catch. From the pouch at his belt he drew out the long leaves of a
plant.
'These leaves,' he said, 'I have walked far to find; for this plant
does not grow in the bare hills; but in the thickets away south of the Road
I found it in the dark by the scent of its leaves.' He crushed a leaf in his
fingers, and it gave out a sweet and pungent fragrance. 'It is fortunate
that I could find it, for it is a healing plant that the Men of the West
brought to Middle-earth. Athelas they named it, and it grows now sparsely
and only near places where they dwelt or camped of old; and it is not known
in the North, except to some of those who wander in the Wild. It has great
virtues, but over such a wound as this its healing powers may be small.'
He threw the leaves into boiling water and bathed Frodo's shoulder. The
fragrance of the steam was refreshing, and those that were unhurt felt their
minds calmed and cleared. The herb had also some power over the wound, for
Frodo felt the pain and also the sense of frozen cold lessen in his side;
but the life did not return to his arm, and he could not raise or use his
hand. He bitterly regretted his foolishness, and reproached himself for
weakness of will; for he now perceived that in putting on the Ring he obeyed
not his own desire but the commanding wish of his enemies. He wondered if he
would remain maimed for life, and how they would now manage to continue
their journey. He fell too weak to stand.
The others were discussing this very question. They quickly decided to
leave Weathertop as soon as possible. 'I think now,' said Strider, 'that the
enemy has been watching this place for some days. If Gandalf ever came here,
then he must have been forced to ride away, and he will not return. In any
case we are in great peril here after dark, since the attack of last night,
and we can hardly meet greater danger wherever we go.'
As soon as the daylight was full, they had some hurried food and
packed. It was impossible for Frodo to walk, so they divided the greater
part of their baggage among the four of them, and put Frodo on the pony. In
the last few days the poor beast had improved wonderfully; it already seemed
fatter and stronger, and had begun to show an affection for its new masters,
especially for Sam. Bill Ferny's treatment must have been very hard for the
journey in the wild to seem so much better than its former life.
They started off in a southerly direction. This would mean crossing the
Road, but. it was the quickest way to more wooded country. And they needed
fuel; for Strider said that Frodo must be kept warm, especially at night,
while fire would be some protection for them all. It was also his plan to
shorten their journey by cutting across another great loop of the Road: east
beyond Weathertop it changed its course and took a wide bend northwards.
They made their way slowly and cautiously round the south-western
slopes of the hill, and came in a little while to the edge of the Road.
There was no sign of the Riders. But even as they were hurrying across they
heard far away two cries: a cold voice calling and a cold voice answering.
Trembling they sprang forward, and made for the thickets that lay ahead. The
land before them sloped away southwards, but it was wild and pathless;
bushes and stunted trees grew in dense patches with wide barren spaces in
between. The grass was scanty, coarse, and grey; and the leaves in the
thickets were faded and falling. It was a cheerless land, and their journey
was slow and gloomy. They spoke little as they trudged along. Frodo's heart
was grieved as he watched them walking beside him with their heads down,
and
their backs bowed under their burdens. Even Strider seemed tired and
heavy-hearted.
Before the first day's march was over Frodo's pain began to grow again,
but he did not speak of it for a long time. Four days passed, without the
ground or the scene changing much, except that behind them Weathertop
slowly
sank, and before them the distant mountains loomed a little nearer. Yet
since that far cry they had seen and heard no sign that the enemy had marked
their flight or followed them. They dreaded the dark hours, and kept watch
in pairs by night, expecting at any time to see black shapes stalking in the
grey night, dimly lit by the cloud-veiled moon; but they saw nothing, and
heard no sound but the sigh of withered leaves and grass. Not once did they
feel the sense of present evil that had assailed them before the attack in
the dell. It seemed too much to hope that the Riders had already lost their
trail again. Perhaps they were waiting to make some ambush in a narrow
place?
At the end of the fifth day the ground began once more to rise slowly
out of the wide shallow valley into which they had descended. Strider now
turned their course again north-eastwards, and on the sixth day they reached
the top of a long slow-climbing slope, and saw far ahead a huddle of wooded
hills. Away below them they could see the Road sweeping round the feet of
the hills; and to their right a grey river gleamed pale in the thin
sunshine. In the distance they glimpsed yet another river in a stony valley
half-veiled in mist.
"I am afraid we must go back to the Road here for a while,' said
Strider. 'We have now come to the River Hoarwell, that the Elves call
Mitheithel. It flows down out of the Ettenmoors, the troll-fells north of
Rivendell, and joins the Loudwater away in the South. Some call it the
Greyflood after that. It is a great water before it finds the Sea. There is
no way over it below its sources in the Ettenmoors, except by the Last
Bridge on which the Road crosses.'
'What is that other river we can see far away there?' asked Merry.
'That is Loudwater, the Bruinen of Rivendell,' answered Strider. 'The
Road runs along the edge of the hills for many miles from the Bridge to the
Ford of Bruinen. But I have not yet thought how we shall cross that water.
One river at a time! We shall be fortunate indeed if we do not find the Last
Bridge held against us.'
Next day, early in the morning, they came down again to the borders of
the Road. Sam and Strider went forward, but they found no sign of any
travellers or riders. Here under the shadow of the hills there had been some
rain. Strider judged that it had fallen two days before, and had washed away
all footprints. No horseman had passed since then, as far as he could see.
They hurried along with all the speed they could make, and after a mile
or two they saw the Last Bridge ahead, at the bottom of a short steep slope.
They dreaded to see black figures waiting there, but they saw none. Strider
made them take cover in a thicket at the side of the Road, while he went
forward to explore.
Before long he came hurrying back. 'I can see no sign of the enemy,' he
said, 'and I wonder very much what that means. But I have found something
very strange.'
He held out his hand, and showed a single pale-green jewel. 'I found it
in the mud in the middle of the Bridge,' he said. 'It is a beryl, an
elf-stone. Whether it was set there, or let fall by chance, I cannot say;
but it brings hope to me. I will take it as a sign that we may pass the
Bridge; but beyond that I dare not keep to the Road, without some clearer
token.'
At once they went on again. They crossed the Bridge in safety, hearing
no sound but the water swirling against its three great arches. A mile
further on they came to a narrow ravine that led away northwards through the
steep lands on the left of the Road. Here Strider turned aside, and soon
they were lost in a sombre country of dark trees winding among the feet of
sullen hills.
The hobbits were glad to leave the cheerless lands and the perilous
Road behind them; but this new country seemed threatening and unfriendly. As
they went forward the hills about them steadily rose. Here and there upon
heights and ridges they caught glimpses of ancient walls of stone, and the
ruins of towers: they had an ominous look. Frodo, who was not walking, had
time to gaze ahead and to think. He recalled Bilbo's account of his journey
and the threatening towers on the hills north of the Road, in the country
near the Troll's wood where his first serious adventure had happened. Frodo
guessed that they were now in the same region, and wondered if by chance
they would pass near the spot.
'Who lives in this land?' he asked. 'And who built these towers? Is
this troll-country?'
'No!' said Strider. 'Trolls do not build. No one lives in this land.
Men once dwelt here, ages ago; but none remain now. They became an evil
people, as legends tell, for they fell under the shadow of Angmar. But all
were destroyed in the war that brought the North Kingdom to its end. But
that is now so long ago that the hills have forgotten them, though a shadow
still lies on the land.'
'Where did you learn such tales, if all the land is empty and
forgetful?' asked Peregrin. 'The birds and beasts do not tell tales of that
son.'
'The heirs of Elendil do not forget all things past,' said Strider;
'and many more things than I can tell are remembered in Rivendell.' 'Have
you often been to Rivendell?' said Frodo. 'I have,' said Strider. 'I dwelt
there once, and still I return when I may.
There my heart is; but it is not my fate to sit in peace, even in the
fair house of Elrond.'
The hills now began to shut them in. The Road behind held on its way to
the River Bruinen, but both were now hidden from view. The travellers came
into a long valley; narrow, deeply cloven, dark and silent. Trees with old
and twisted roots hung over cliffs, and piled up behind into mounting slopes
of pine-wood.
The hobbits grew very weary. They advanced slowly, for they had to pick
their way through a pathless country, encumbered by fallen trees and tumbled
rocks. As long as they could they avoided climbing for Frodo's sake, and
because it was in fact difficult to find any way up out of the narrow dales.
They had been two days in this country when the weather turned wet. The wind
began to blow steadily out of the West and pour the water of the distant
seas on the dark heads of the hills in fine drenching rain. By nightfall
they were all soaked, and their camp was cheerless, for they could not get
any fire to burn. The next day the hills rose still higher and steeper
before them, and they were forced to turn away northwards out of their
course. Strider seemed to be getting anxious: they were nearly ten days out
from Weathertop, and their stock of provisions was beginning to run low. It
went on raining.
That night they camped on a stony shelf with a rock-wall behind them,
in which there was a shallow cave, a mere scoop in the cliff. Frodo was
restless. The cold and wet had made his wound more painful than ever, and
the ache and sense of deadly chill took away all sleep. He lay tossing and
turning and listening fearfully to the stealthy night-noises: wind in chinks
of rock, water dripping, a crack, the sudden rattling fall of a loosened
stone. He felt that black shapes were advancing to smother him; but when he
sat up he saw nothing but the back of Strider sitting hunched up, smoking
his pipe, and watching. He lay down again and passed into an uneasy dream,
in which he walked on the grass in his garden in the Shire, but it seemed
faint and dim, less clear than the tall black shadows that stood looking
over the hedge.
In the morning he woke to find that the rain had stopped. The clouds
were still thick, but they were breaking, and pale strips of blue appeared
between them. The wind was shifting again. They did not start early.
Immediately after their cold and comfortless breakfast Strider went off
alone, telling the others to remain under the shelter of the cliff, until he
came back. He was going to climb up, if he could, and get a look at the lie
of the land.
When he returned he was not reassuring. 'We have come too far to the
north,' he said, 'and we must find some way to turn back southwards again.
If we keep on as we are going we shall get up into the Ettendales far north
of Rivendell. That is troll-country, and little known to me. We could
perhaps find our way through and come round to Rivendell from the north; but
it would take too long, for I do not know the way, and our food would not
last. So somehow or other we must find the Ford of Bruinen.'
The rest of that day they spent scrambling over rocky ground. They
found a passage between two hills that led them into a valley running
south-east, the direction that they wished to take; but towards the end of
the day they found their road again barred by a ridge of high land; its dark
edge against the sky was broken into many bare points like teeth of a
blunted saw. They had a choice between going back or climbing over it.
They decided to attempt the climb, but it proved very difficult. Before
long Frodo was obliged to dismount and struggle along on foot. Even so they
often despaired of getting their pony up, or indeed of finding a path for
themselves, burdened as they were. The light was nearly gone, and they were
all exhausted, when at last they reached the top. They had climbed on to a
narrow saddle between two higher points, and the land fell steeply away
again, only a short distance ahead. Frodo threw himself down, and lay on the
ground shivering. His left arm was lifeless, and his side and shoulder felt
as if icy claws were laid upon them. The trees and rocks about him seemed
shadowy and dim.
'We cannot go any further,' said Merry to Strider. 'I am afraid this
has been too much for Frodo. I am dreadfully anxious about him. What are we
to do? Do you think they will be able to cure him in Rivendell, if we ever
get there?'
'We shall see,' answered Strider. 'There is nothing more that I can do
in the wilderness; and it is chiefly because of his wound that I am so
anxious to press on. But I agree that we can go no further tonight.'
'What is the matter with my master?' asked Sam in a low voice, looking
appealingly at Strider. 'His wound was small, and it is already closed.
There's nothing to be seen but a cold white mark on his shoulder.'
'Frodo has been touched by the weapons of the Enemy,' said Strider,
'and there is some poison or evil at work that is beyond my skill to drive
out. But do not give up hope, Sam!'
Night was cold up on the high ridge. They lit a small fire down under
the gnarled roots of an old pine, that hung over a shallow pit: it looked as
if stone had once been quarried there. They sat huddled together. The wind
blew chill through the pass, and they heard the tree-tops lower down moaning
and sighing. Frodo lay half in a dream, imagining that endless dark wings
were sweeping by above him, and that on the wings rode pursuers that sought
him in all the hollows of the hills.
The morning dawned bright and fair; the air was clean, and the light
pale and clear in a rain-washed sky. Their hearts were encouraged, but (hey
longed for the sun to warm their cold stiff limbs. As soon as it was light,
Strider took Merry with him and went to survey the country from the height
to the east of the pass. The sun had risen and was shining brightly when he
returned with more comforting news. They were now going more or less in the
right direction. If they went on, down the further side of the ridge, they
would have the Mountains on their left. Some way ahead Strider had caught a
glimpse of the Loudwater again, and he knew that, though it was hidden from
view, the Road to the Ford was not far from the River and lay on the side
nearest to them.
'We must make for the Road again,' he said. 'We cannot hope to find a
path through these hills. Whatever danger may beset it, the Road is our only
way to the Ford.'
As soon as they had eaten they set out again. They climbed slowly down
the southern side of the ridge; but the way was much easier than they had
expected, for the slope was far less steep on this side, and before long
Frodo was able to ride again. Bill Ferny's poor old pony was developing an
unexpected talent for picking out a path, and for sparing its rider as many
jolts as possible. The spirits of the party rose again. Even Frodo felt
better in the morning light, but every now and again a mist seemed to
obscure his sight, and he passed his hands over his eyes.
Pippin was a little ahead of the others. Suddenly he turned round and
called to them. 'There is a path here!' he cried.
When they came up with him, they saw that he had made no mistake:
there were clearly the beginnings of a path, that climbed with many
windings out of the woods below and faded away on the hill-top behind. In
places it was now faint and overgrown, or choked with fallen stones and
trees; but at one time it seemed to have been much used. It was a path made
by strong arms and heavy feet. Here and there old trees had been cut or
broken down, and large rocks cloven or heaved aside to make a way.
They followed the track for some while, for it offered much the easiest
way down, but they went cautiously, and their anxiety increased as they came
into the dark woods, and the path grew plainer and broader. Suddenly coming
out of a belt of fir-trees it ran steeply down a slope, and turned sharply
to the left round the comer of a rocky shoulder of the hill. When they came
to the comer they looked round and saw that the path ran on over a level
strip under the face of a low cliff overhung with trees. In the stony wall
there was a door hanging crookedly ajar upon one great hinge.
Outside the door they all halted. There was a cave or rock-chamber
behind, but in the gloom inside nothing could be seen. Strider, Sam, and
Merry pushing with all their strength managed to open the door a little
wider, and then Strider and Merry went in. They did not go far, for on the
floor lay many old bones, and nothing else was to be seen near the entrance
except some great empty jars and broken pots.
'Surely this is a troll-hole, if ever there was one!' said Pippin.
'Come out, you two, and let us get away. Now we know who made the path -
and
we had better get off it quick.'
'There is no need, I think,' said Strider, coining out. 'It is
certainly a troll-hole, but it seems to have been long forsaken. I don't
think we need be afraid. But let us go on down warily, and we shall see.'
The path went on again from the door, and turning to the right again
across the level space plunged down a thick wooded slope. Pippin, not liking
to show Strider that he was still afraid, went on ahead with Merry. Sam and
Strider came behind, one on each side of Frodo's pony, for the path was now
broad enough for four or five hobbits to walk abreast. But they had not gone
very far before Pippin came running back, followed by Merry. They both
looked terrified.
'There are trolls!' Pippin panted. 'Down in a clearing in the woods not
far below. We got a sight of them through the tree-trunks. They are very
large!'
'We will come and look at them,' said Strider, picking up a stick.
Frodo said nothing, but Sam looked scared.
The sun was now high, and it shone down through the half-stripped
branches of the trees, and lit the clearing with bright patches of light.
They halted suddenly on the edge, and peered through the tree-trunks,
holding their breath. There stood the trolls: three large trolls. One was
stooping, and the other two stood staring at him.
Strider walked forward unconcernedly. 'Get up, old stone!' he said, and
broke his stick upon the stooping troll.
Nothing happened. There was a gasp of astonishment from the hobbits,
and then even Frodo laughed. 'Well!' he said. 'We are forgetting our family
history! These must be the very three that were caught by Gandalf,
quarrelling over the right way to cook thirteen dwarves and one hobbit.'
'I had no idea we were anywhere near the place!' said Pippin. He knew
the story well. Bilbo and Frodo had told it often; but as a matter of fact
he had never more than half believed it. Even now he looked at the stone
trolls with suspicion, wondering if some magic might not suddenly bring them
to life again.
'You are forgetting not only your family history, but all you ever knew
about trolls,' said Strider. 'It is broad daylight with a bright sun, and
yet you come back trying to scare me with a tale of live trolls waiting for
us in this glade! In any case you might have noticed that one of them has an
old bird's nest behind his ear. That would be a most unusual ornament for a
live troll!'
They all laughed. Frodo felt his spirits reviving: the reminder of
Bilbo's first successful adventure was heartening. The sun, too, was warm
and comforting, and the mist before his eyes seemed to be lifting a little.
They rested for some time in the glade, and took their mid-day meal right
under the shadow of the trolls' large legs.
'Won't somebody give us a bit of a song, while the sun is high?' said
Merry, when they had finished. 'We haven't had a song or a tale for days.'
'Not since Weathertop,' said Frodo. The others looked at him. 'Don't
worry about me!' he added. 'I feel much better, but I don't think I could
sing. Perhaps Sam could dig something out of his memory.'
'Come on, Sam!' said Merry. 'There's more stored in your head than you
let on about.'
'I don't know about that,' said Sam. 'But how would this suit? It ain't
what I call proper poetry, if you understand me: just a bit of nonsense. But
these old images here brought it to my mind.' Standing up, with his hands
behind his back, as if he was at school, he began to sing to an old tune.
Troll sat alone on his seat of stone,
And munched and mumbled a bare old bone;
For many a year he had gnawed it near,
For meat was hard to come by.
Done by! Gum by!
In a case in the hills he dwelt alone,
And meat was hard to come by.
Up came Tom with his big boots on.
Said he to Troll: 'Pray, what is yon?
For it looks like the shin o' my nuncle Tim,
As should be a-lyin' in graveyard.
Caveyard! Paveyard!
This many a year has Tim been gone,
And I thought he were lyin' in graveyard.'
'My lad,' said Troll, 'this bone I stole.
But what be bones that lie in a hole?
Thy nuncle was dead as a lump o' lead,
Afore I found his shinbone.
Tinbone! Thinbone!
He can spare a share for a poor old troll,
For he don't need his shinbone.'
Said Tom: 'I don't see why the likes o' thee
Without axin' leave should go makin' free
With the shank or the shin o' my father's kin;
So hand the old bone over!
Rover! Trover!
Though dead he be, it belongs to he;
So hand the old bone over!'
'For a couple o' pins,' says Troll, and grins,
'I'll eat thee too, and gnaw thy shins.
A bit o' fresh meal will go down sweet!
I'll try my teeth on thee now.
Hee now! See now!
I'm tired o' gnawing old bones and skins;
I've a mind to dine on thee now.'
But just as he thought his dinner was caught,
He found his hands had hold of naught.
Before he could mind, Tom slipped behind
And gave him the boot to larn him.
Warn him! Darn him!
A bump o' the boot on the seat, Tom thought,
Would be the way to larn him.
But harder than stone is the flesh and bone
Of a troll that sits in the hills alone.
As well set your boot to the mountain's root,
For the seat of a troll don't feel it.
Peel it! Heal it!
Old Troll laughed, when he heard Tom groan,
And he knew his toes could feel it.
Tom's leg is game, since home he came,
And his bootless foot is lasting lame;
But Troll don't care, and he's still there
With the bone he boned from its owner.
Doner! Boner!
Troll's old seat is still the same,
And the bone he boned from its owner!
'Well, that's a warning to us all!' laughed Merry. 'It is as well you
used a stick, and not your hand, Strider!'
'Where did you come by that, Sam?' asked Pippin. 'I've never heard
those words before.'
Sam muttered something inaudible. 'It's out of his own head, of
course,' said Frodo. 'I am learning a lot about Sam Gamgee on this journey.
First he was a conspirator, now he's a jester. He'll end up by becoming a
wizard - or a warrior!'
'I hope not,' said Sam. 'I don't want to be neither!'
In the afternoon they went on down the woods. They were probably
following the very track that Gandalf, Bilbo, and the dwarves had used many
years before. After a few miles they came out on the top of a high bank
above the Road. At this point the Road had left the Hoarwell far behind in
its narrow valley, and now clung close to the feet of the hills, rolling and
winding eastward among woods and heather-covered slopes towards the Ford
and
the Mountains. Not far down the bank Strider pointed out a stone in the
grass. On it roughly cut and now much weathered could still be seen
dwarf-runes and secret marks.
'There!' said Merry. 'That must be the stone that marked the place
where the trolls' gold was hidden. How much is left of Bilbo's share, I
wonder, Frodo?'
Frodo looked at the stone, and wished that Bilbo had brought home no
treasure more perilous, nor less easy to pan with. 'None at all,' he said.
'Bilbo gave it all away. He told me he did not feel it was really his, as it
came from robbers.'
The Road lay quiet under the long shadows of early evening. There was
no sign of any other travellers to be seen. As there was now no other
possible course for them to take, they climbed down the bank, and turning
left went off as fast as they could. Soon a shoulder of the hills cut off
the light of the fast westering sun. A cold wind flowed down to meet them
from the mountains ahead.
They were beginning to look out for a place off the Road, where they
could camp for the night, when they heard a sound that brought sudden fear
back into their hearts: the noise of hoofs behind them. They looked back,
but they could not see far because of the many windings and rollings of the
Road. As quickly as they could they scrambled off the beaten way and up into
the deep heather and bilberry brushwood on the slopes above, until they came
to a small patch of thick-growing hazels. As they peered out from among the
bushes, they could see the Road, faint and grey in the failing light, some
thirty feel below them. The sound of hoofs drew nearer. They were going
fast, with a light clippety-clippely-clip. Then faintly, as if it was blown
away from them by the breeze, they seemed to catch a dim ringing, as of
small bells tinkling.
'That does not sound like a Black Rider's horse!' said Frodo, listening
intently. The other hobbits agreed hopefully that it did not, but they all
remained full of suspicion. They had been in fear of pursuit for so long
that any sound from behind seemed ominous and unfriendly. But Strider was
now leaning forward, stooped to the ground, with a hand to his ear, and a
look of joy on his face.
The light faded, and the leaves on the bushes rustled softly. Clearer
and nearer now the bells jingled, and clippety-clip came the quick trotting
feet. Suddenly into view below came a white horse, gleaming in the shadows,
running swiftly. In the dusk its headstall flickered and flashed, as if it
were studded with gems like living stars. The rider's cloak streamed behind
him, and his hood was thrown back; his golden hair flowed shimmering in the
wind of his speed. To Frodo it appeared that a white light was shining
through the form and raiment of the rider, as if through a thin veil.
Strider sprang from hiding and dashed down towards the Road, leaping
with a cry through the heather; but even before he had moved or called, the
rider had reined in his horse and halted, looking up towards the thicket
where they stood. When he saw Strider, he dismounted and ran to meet him
calling out: Ai na vedui D®nadan! Mae govannen! His speech and clear
ringing
voice left no doubt in their hearts: the rider was of the Elven-folk. No
others that dwelt in the wide world had voices so fair to hear. But there
seemed to be a note of haste or fear in his call, and they saw that he was
now speaking quickly and urgently to Strider.
Soon Strider beckoned to them, and the hobbits left the bushes and
hurried down to the Road. 'This is Glorfindel, who dwells in the house of
Elrond,' said Strider.
'Hail, and well met at last!' said the Elf-lord to Frodo. 'I was sent
from Rivendell to look for you. We feared that you were in danger upon the
road.'
'Then Gandalf has reached Rivendell?' cried Frodo joyfully.
'No. He had not when I departed; but that was nine days ago,' answered
Glorfindel. 'Elrond received news that troubled him. Some of my kindred,
journeying in your land beyond the Baranduin,* learned that things were
amiss, and sent messages as swiftly as they could. They said that the Nine
were abroad, and that you were astray bearing a great burden without
guidance, for Gandalf had not returned. There are few even in Rivendell that
can ride openly against the Nine; but such as there were, Elrond sent out
north, west, and south. It was thought that you might turn far aside to
avoid pursuit, and become lost in the Wilderness.
'It was my lot to take the Road, and I came to the Bridge of
Mitheithel, and left a token there, nigh on seven days ago. Three of the
servants of Sauron were upon the Bridge, but they withdrew and I pursued
them westward. I came also upon two others, but they turned away southward.
Since then I have searched for your trail. Two days ago I found it, and
followed it over the Bridge; and today I marked where you descended from the
hills again. But come! There is no time for further news. Since you are here
we must risk the peril of the Road and go. There are five behind us, and
when they find your trail upon the Road they will ride after us like the
wind. And they are not all. Where the other four may be, I do not know. I
fear that we may find the Ford is already held against us.'
While Glorfindel was speaking the shades of evening deepened. Frodo
felt a great weariness come over him. Ever since the sun began to sink the
mist before his eyes had darkened, and he felt that a shadow was coming
between him and the faces of his friends. Now pain assailed him, and he felt
cold. He swayed, clutching at Sam's arm.
'My master is sick and wounded,' said Sam angrily. 'He can't go on
riding after nightfall. He needs rest.'
Glorfindel caught Frodo as he sank to the ground, and taking him gently
in his arms he looked in his face with grave anxiety.
Briefly Strider told of the attack on their camp under Weathertop, and
of the deadly knife. He drew out the hilt, which he had kept, and handed it
to the Elf. Glorfindel shuddered as he took it, but he looked intently at
it.
'There are evil things written on this hilt,' he said; 'though maybe
your eyes cannot see them. Keep it, Aragorn, till we reach the house of
Elrond! But be wary, and handle it as little as you may! Alas! the wounds of
this weapon are beyond my skill to heal. I will do what I can - but all the
more do I urge you now to go on without rest.'
He searched the wound on Frodo's shoulder with his fingers, and his
face grew graver, as if what he learned disquieted him. But Frodo felt the
chill lessen in his side and arm; a little warmth crept down from his
shoulder to his hand, and the pain grew easier. The dusk of evening seemed
to grow lighter about him, as if a cloud had been withdrawn. He saw his
friends' faces more clearly again, and a measure of new hope and strength
returned.
'You shall ride my horse,' said Glorfindel. 'I will shorten the
stirrups up to the saddle-skins, and you must sit as tight as you can. But
you need not fear: my horse will not let any rider fall that I command him
to bear. His pace is light and smooth; and if danger presses too near, he
will bear you away with a speed that even the black steeds of the enemy
cannot rival.'
'No, he will not!' said Frodo. 'I shall not ride him, if I am to be
carried off to Rivendell or anywhere else, leaving my friends behind in
danger.'
Glorfindel smiled. 'I doubt very much,' he said, 'if your friends would
be in danger if you were not with them! The pursuit would follow you and
leave us in peace, I think. It is you, Frodo, and that which you bear that
brings us all in peril.'
To that Frodo had no answer, and he was persuaded to mount Glorfindel's
white horse. The pony was laden instead with a great part of the others'
burdens, so that they now marched lighter, and for a time made good speed;
but the hobbits began to find it hard to keep up with the swift tireless
feet of the Elf. On he led them, into the mouth of darkness, and still on
under the deep clouded night. There was neither star nor moon. Not until the
grey of dawn did he allow them to halt. Pippin, Merry, and Sam were by that
time nearly asleep on their stumbling legs; and even Strider seemed by the
sag of his shoulders to be weary. Frodo sat upon the horse in a dark dream.
They cast themselves down in the heather a few yards from the
road-side, and fell asleep immediately. They seemed hardly to have closed
their eyes when Glorfindel, who had set himself to watch while they slept,
awoke them again. The sun had now climbed far into the morning, and the
clouds and mists of the night were gone.
'Drink this!' said Glorfindel to them, pouring for each in turn a
little liquor from his silver-studded flask of leather. It was clear as
spring water and had no taste, and it did not feel either cool or warm in
the mouth; but strength and vigour seemed to flow into all their limbs as
they drank it. Eaten after that draught the stale bread and dried fruit
(which was now all that they had left) seemed to satisfy their hunger better
than many a good breakfast in the Shire had done.
They had rested rather less than five hours when they took to the Road
again. Glorfindel still urged them on, and only allowed two brief halts
during the day's march. In this way they covered almost twenty miles before
nightfall, and came to a point where the Road bent right and ran down
towards the bottom of the valley, now making straight for the Bruinen. So
far there had been no sign or sound of pursuit that the hobbits could see or
hear; but often Glorfindel would halt and listen for a moment, if they
lagged behind, and a look of anxiety clouded his face. Once or twice he
spoke to Strider in the elf-tongue.
But however anxious their guides might be, it was plain that the
hobbits could go no further that night. They were stumbling along dizzy with
weariness, and unable to think of anything but their feet and legs. Frodo's
pain had redoubled, and during the day things about him faded to shadows of
ghostly grey. He almost welcomed the coming of night, for then the world
seemed less pale and empty.
The hobbits were still weary, when they set out again early next
morning. There were many miles yet to go between them and the Ford, and
they
hobbled forward at the best pace they could manage.
'Our peril will be greatest just ere we reach the river,' said
Glorfindel; 'for my heart warns me that the pursuit is now swift behind us,
and other danger may be waiting by the Ford.'
The Road was still running steadily downhill, and there was now in
places much grass at either side, in which the hobbits walked when they
could, to ease their tired feet. In the late afternoon they came to a place
where the Road went suddenly under the dark shadow of tall pine-trees, and
then plunged into a deep cutting with steep moist walls of red stone. Echoes
ran along as they hurried forward; and there seemed to be a sound of many
footfalls following their own. All at once, as if through a gate of light,
the Road ran out again from the end of the tunnel into the open. There at
the bottom of a sharp incline they saw before them a long flat mile, and
beyond that the Ford of Rivendell. On the further side was a steep brown
bank, threaded by a winding path; and behind that the tall mountains
climbed, shoulder above shoulder, and peak beyond peak, into the fading sky.
There was still an echo as of following feet in the cutting behind
them; a rushing noise as if a wind were rising and pouring through the
branches of the pines. One moment Glorfindel turned and listened, then he
sprang forward with a loud cry.
'Fly!' he called. 'Fly! The enemy is upon us!'
The white horse leaped forward. The hobbits ran down the slope.
Glorfindel and Strider followed as rear-guard. They were only half way
across the flat, when suddenly there was a noise of horses galloping. Out of
the gate in the trees that they had just left rode a Black Rider. He reined
his horse in, and halted, swaying in his saddle. Another followed him, and
then another; then again two more.
'Ride forward! Ride!' cried Glorfindel to Frodo.
He did not obey at once, for a strange reluctance seized him. Checking
the horse to a walk, he turned and looked back. The Riders seemed to sit
upon their great steeds like threatening statues upon a hill, dark and
solid, while all the woods and land about them receded as if into a mist.
Suddenly he knew in his heart that they were silently commanding him to
wait. Then at once fear and hatred awoke in him. His hand left the bridle
and gripped the hilt of his sword, and with a red flash he drew it.
'Ride on! Ride on!' cried Glorfindel, and then loud and clear he called
to the horse in the elf-tongue: noro lim, noro lim, Asfaloth!
At once the white horse sprang away and sped like the wind along the
last lap of the Road. At the same moment the black horses leaped down the
hill in pursuit, and from the Riders came a terrible cry, such as Frodo had
heard filling the woods with horror in the Eastfarthing far away. It was
answered; and to the dismay of Frodo and his friends out from the trees and
rocks away on the left four other Riders came flying. Two rode towards
Frodo: two galloped madly towards the Ford to cut off his escape. They
seemed to him to run like the wind and to grow swiftly larger and darker, as
their courses converged with his.
Frodo looked back for a moment over his shoulder. He could no longer
see his friends. The Riders behind were falling back: even their great
steeds were no match in speed for the white elf-horse of Glorfindel. He
looked forward again, and hope faded. There seemed no chance of reaching the
Ford before he was cut off by the others that had lain in ambush. He could
see them clearly now: they appeared to have cast aside their hoods and black
cloaks, and they were robed in white and grey. Swords were naked in their
pale hands; helms were on their heads. Their cold eyes glittered, and they
called to him with fell voices.
Fear now filled all Frodo's mind. He thought no longer of his sword. No
cry came from him. He shut his eyes and clung to the horse's mane. The wind
whistled in his ears, and the bells upon the harness rang wild and shrill. A
breath of deadly cold pierced him like a spear, as with a last spurt, like a
flash of white fire, the elf-horse speeding as if on wings, passed right
before the face of the foremost Rider.
Frodo heard the splash of water. It foamed about his feet. He felt the
quick heave and surge as the horse left the river and struggled up the stony
path. He was climbing the steep bank. He was across the Ford.
But the pursuers were close behind. At the top of the bank the horse
halted and turned about neighing fiercely. There were Nine Riders at the
water's edge below, and Frodo's spirit quailed before the threat of their
uplifted faces. He knew of nothing that would prevent them from crossing as
easily as he had done; and he felt that it was useless to try to escape over
the long uncertain path from the Ford to the edge of Rivendell, if once the
Riders crossed. In any case he felt that he was commanded urgently to halt.
Hatred again stirred in him, but he had no longer the strength to refuse.
Suddenly the foremost Rider spurred his horse forward. It checked at
the water and reared up. With a great effort Frodo sat upright and
brandished his sword.
'Go back!' he cried. 'Go back to the Land of Mordor, and follow me no
more! ' His voice sounded thin and shrill in his own ears. The Riders
halted, but Frodo had not the power of Bombadil. His enemies laughed at him
with a harsh and chilling laughter. 'Come back! Come back!' they called. 'To
Mordor we will take you!'
'Go back!' he whispered.
'The Ring! The Ring!' they cried with deadly voices; and immediately
their leader urged his horse forward into the water, followed closely by two
others.
'By Elbereth and L®thien the Fair,' said Frodo with a last effort,
lifting up his sword, 'you shall have neither the Ring nor me!'
Then the leader, who was now half across the Ford, stood up menacing in
his stirrups, and raised up his hand. Frodo was stricken dumb. He felt his
tongue cleave to his mouth, and his heart labouring. His sword broke and
fell out of his shaking hand. The elf-horse reared and snorted. The foremost
of the black horses had almost set foot upon the shore.
At that moment there came a roaring and a rushing: a noise of loud
waters rolling many stones. Dimly Frodo saw the river below him rise, and
down along its course there came a plumed cavalry of waves. White flames
seemed to Frodo to flicker on their crests and he half fancied that he saw
amid the water white riders upon white horses with frothing manes. The three
Riders that were still in the midst of the Ford were overwhelmed: they
disappeared, buried suddenly under angry foam. Those that were behind drew
back in dismay.
With his last failing senses Frodo heard cries, and it seemed to him
that he saw, beyond the Riders that hesitated on the shore, a shining figure
of white light; and behind it ran small shadowy forms waving flames, that
flared red in the grey mist that was falling over the world.
The black horses were filled with madness, and leaping forward in
terror they bore their riders into the rushing flood. Their piercing cries
were drowned in the roaring of the river as it carried them away. Then Frodo
felt himself falling, and the roaring and confusion seemed to rise and
engulf him together with his enemies. He heard and saw no more.
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The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 10 - Strider (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 15 - The Ring Goes South (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 20 - The Great River (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 21 - The Breaking of the Fellowship (1)


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Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings.
Frodo woke and found himself lying in bed. At first he thought that he
had slept late, after a long unpleasant dream that still hovered on the edge
of memory. Or perhaps he had been ill? But the ceiling looked strange; it
was flat, and it had dark beams richly carved. He lay a little while longer
looking at patches of sunlight on the wall, and listening to the sound of a
waterfall.
`Where am I, and what is the time?' he said aloud to the ceiling. 'In
the House of Elrond, and it is ten o'clock in the morning.' said a voice.
`It is the morning of October the twenty-fourth, if you want to know.'
`Gandalf!' cried Frodo, sitting up. There was the old wizard, sitting
in a chair by the open window.
`Yes,' he said, `I am here. And you are lucky to be here, too, after
all the absurd things you have done since you left home.' Frodo lay down
again. He felt too comfortable and peaceful to argue, and in any case he did
not think he would get the better of an argument. He was fully awake now,
and the memory of his journey was returning: the disastrous `short cut'
through the Old Forest the `accident' at The Prancing Pony; and his madness
in putting on the Ring in the dell under Weathertop. While he was thinking
of all these things and trying in vain to bring his memory down to his
arriving in Rivendell, there was a long silence, broken only by the soft
puffs of Gandalf's pipe, as he blew white smoke-rings out of the window.
'Where's Sam?' Frodo asked at length. 'And are the others all right?'
'Yes, they are all safe and sound,' answered Gandalf. `Sam was here
until I sent him off to get some rest, about half an hour ago.'
`What happened at the Ford?' said Frodo. `It all seemed so dim somehow;
and it still does.'
'Yes, it would. You were beginning to fade,' answered Gandalf. 'The
wound was overcoming you at last. A few more hours and you would have
been
beyond our aid. But you have some strength in you, my dear hobbit! As you
showed in the Barrow. That was touch and go: perhaps the most dangerous
moment of all. I wish you could have held out at Weathertop.'
'You seem to know a great deal already,' said Frodo. `I have not spoken
to the others about the Barrow. At first it was too horrible; and afterwards
there were other things to think about. How do you know about it?'
'You have talked long in your sleep, Frodo,' said Gandalf gently, 'and
it has not been hard for me to read your mind and memory. Do not worry!
Though I said "absurd" just now, I did not mean it. I think well of you-and
of the others. It is no small feat to have come so far, and through such
dangers, still bearing the Ring.'
'We should never have done it without Strider,' said Frodo. `But we
needed you. I did not know what to do without you.'
'I was delayed,' said Gandalf, `and that nearly proved our ruin. And
yet I am not sure; it may have been better so.'
'I wish you would tell me what happened!'
'All in good time! You are not supposed to talk or worry about anything
today, by Elrond's orders.'
`But talking would stop me thinking and wondering, which are quite as
tiring,' said Frodo. 'I am wide awake now, and I remember so many things
that want explaining. Why were you delayed? You ought to tell me that at
least.'
'You will soon hear all you wish to know,' said Gandalf. 'We shall have
a Council, as soon as you are well enough. At the moment I will only say
that I was held captive.'
'You?' cried Frodo.
'Yes, I, Gandalf the Grey,' said the wizard solemnly. 'There are many
powers in the world, for good or for evil. Some are greater than I am.
Against some I have not yet been measured. But my time is coming. The
Morgul-lord and his Black Riders have come forth. War is preparing!'
`Then you knew of the Riders already-before I met them?'
'Yes, I knew of them. Indeed I spoke of them once to you; for the Black
Riders are the Ringwraiths, the Nine Servants of the Lord of the Rings. But
I did not know that they had arisen again or I should have fled with you at
once. I heard news of them only after I left you in June; but that story
must wait. For the moment we have been saved from disaster, by Aragorn.'
'Yes,' said Frodo, `it was Strider that saved us. Yet I was afraid of
him at first. Sam never quite trusted him. I think, not at any rate until we
met Glorfindel.'
Gandalf smiled. `I have heard all about Sam,' he said. 'He has no more
doubts now.'
'I am glad,' said Frodo. 'For I have become very fond of Strider. Well,
fond is not the right word. I mean he is dear to me; though he is strange,
and grim at times. In fact, he reminds me often of you. I didn't know that
any of the Big People were like that. I thought, well, that they were just
big, and rather stupid: kind and stupid like Butterbur; or stupid and wicked
like Bill Ferny. But then we don't know much about Men in the Shire, except
perhaps the Breelanders.'
`You don't know much even about them, if you think old Barliman is
stupid,' said Gandalf. 'He is wise enough on his own ground. He thinks less
than he talks, and slower; yet he can see through a brick wall in time (as
they say in Bree). But there are few left in Middle-earth like Aragorn son
of Arathorn. The race of the Kings from over the Sea is nearly at an end. It
may be that this War of the Ring will be their last adventure.'
'Do you really mean that Strider is one of the people of the old
Kings?' said Frodo in wonder. `I thought they had all vanished long ago. I
thought he was only a Ranger.'
'Only a Ranger!' cried Gandalf. `My dear Frodo, that is just what the
Rangers are: the last remnant in the North of the great people, the Men of
the West. They have helped me before; and I shall need their help in the
days to come; for we have reached Rivendell, but the Ring is not yet at
rest.'
'I suppose not,' said Frodo. 'But so far my only thought has been to
get here; and I hope I shan't have to go any further. It is very pleasant
just to rest. I have had a month of exile and adventure, and I find that has
been as much as I want.'
He fell silent and shut his eyes. After a while he spoke again. 'I have
been reckoning,' he said, `and I can't bring the total up to October the
twenty-fourth. It ought to be the twenty-first. We must have reached the
Ford by the twentieth.'
'You have talked and reckoned more than is good for you,' said Gandalf.
`How do the side and shoulder feel now?'
'I don't know.' Frodo answered. 'They don't feel at all: which is an
improvement, but'--he made an effort--'I can move my arm again a little.
Yes, it is coming back to life. It is not cold,' he added, touching his left
hand with his right.
`Good!' said Gandalf. `It is mending fast. You will soon be sound
again. Elrond has cured you: he has tended you for days, ever since you were
brought in.'
'Days?' said Frodo.
`Well, four nights and three days, to be exact. The Elves brought you
from this where you lost count. We have been terribly anxious, and Sam has
hardly left your side, day or night, except to run messages. Elrond is a
master of healing, but the weapons of our Enemy are deadly. To tell you the
truth, I had very little hope; for I suspected that there was some fragment
of the blade still in the closed wound. But it could not be found until last
night. Then Elrond removed a splinter. It was deeply buried. and it was
working inwards.'
Frodo shuddered, remembering the cruel knife with notched blade that
had vanished in Strider's hands. `Don't be alarmed!' said Gandalf. `It is
gone now. It has been melted. And it seems that Hobbits fade very
reluctantly. I have known strong warriors of the Big People who would
quickly have been overcome by that splinter, which you bore for seventeen
days.'
`What would they have done to me?' asked Frodo. `What were the Riders
trying to do?'
'They tried to pierce your heart with a Morgul-knife which remains in
the wound. If they had succeeded, you would have become like they are, only
weaker and under their command. You would have became a wraith under
the
dominion of the Dark Lord; and he would have tormented you for trying to
keep his Ring, if any greater torment were possible than being robbed of it
and seeing it on his hand.'
'Thank goodness I did not realize the horrible danger!' said Frodo
faintly. I was mortally afraid, of course; but if I had known more, I should
not have dared even to move. It is a marvel that I escaped!'
'Yes, fortune or fate have helped you,' said Gandalf, `not to mention
courage. For your heart was not touched, and only your shoulder was pierced;
and that was because you resisted to the last. But it was a terribly narrow
shave, so to speak. You were in gravest peril while you wore the Ring, for
then you were half in the wraith-world yourself, and they might have seized
you. You could see them, and they could see you.'
`I know,' said Frodo. `They were terrible to behold! But why could we
all see their horses?'
`Because they are real horses; just as the black robes are real robes
that they wear to give shape to their nothingness when they have dealings
with the living.'
`Then why do these black horses endure such riders? All other animals
are terrified when they draw near, even the elf-horse of Glorfindel. The
dogs howl and the geese scream at them.'
`Because these horses are born and bred to the service of the Dark Lord
in Mordor. Not all his servants and chattels are wraiths! There are orcs and
trolls, there are wargs and werewolves; and there have been and still are
many Men, warriors and kings, that walk alive under the Sun, and yet are
under his sway. And their number is growing daily.'
`What about Rivendell and the Elves? Is Rivendell safe?'
`Yes, at present, until all else is conquered. The Elves may fear the
Dark Lord, and they may fly before him, but never again will they listen to
him or serve him. And here in Rivendell there live still some of his chief
foes: the Elven-wise, lords of the Eldar from beyond the furthest seas. They
do not fear the Ringwraiths, for those who have dwelt in the Blessed Realm
live at once in both worlds, and against both the Seen and the Unseen they
have great power.'
'I thought that I saw a white figure that shone and did not grow dim
like the others. Was that Glorfindel then?'
'Yes, you saw him for a moment as he is upon the other side: one of the
mighty of the Firstborn. He is an Elf-lord of a house of princes. Indeed
there is a power in Rivendell to withstand the might of Mordor, for a while:
and elsewhere other powers still dwell. There is power, too, of another kind
in the Shire. But all such places will soon become islands under siege, if
things go on as they are going. The Dark Lord is putting forth all his
strength.
`Still,' he said, standing suddenly up and sticking out his chin. while
his beard went stiff and straight like bristling wire, `we must keep up our
courage. You will soon be well, if I do not talk you to death. You are in
Rivendell, and you need not worry about anything for the present.'
'I haven't any courage to keep up,' said Frodo, `but I am not worried
at the moment. Just give me news of my friends, and tell me the end of the
affair at the Ford, as I keep on asking, and I shall be content for the
present. After that I shall have another sleep, I think; but I shan't be
able to close my eyes until you have finished the story for me.'
Gandalf moved his chair to the bedside, and took a good look at Frodo.
The colour had come back to his face, and his eyes were clear, and fully
awake and aware. He was smiling, and there seemed to be little wrong with
him. But to the wizard's eye there was a faint change just a hint as it were
of transparency, about him, and especially about the left hand that lay
outside upon the coverlet.
`Still that must be expected,' said Gandalf to himself. `He is not half
through yet, and to what he will come in the end not even Elrond can
foretell. Not to evil, I think. He may become like a glass filled with a
clear light for eyes to see that can.'
`You look splendid,' he said aloud. `I will risk a brief tale without
consulting Elrond. But quite brief, mind you, and then you must sleep again.
This is what happened, as far as I can gather. The Riders made straight for
you, as soon as you fled. They did not need the guidance of their horses any
longer: you had become visible to them, being already on the threshold of
their world. And also the Ring drew them. Your friends sprang aside, off the
road, or they would have been ridden down. They knew that nothing could save
you, if the white horse could not. The Riders were too swift to overtake,
and too many to oppose. On foot even Glorfindel and Aragorn together could
not with stand all the Nine at once.
`When the Ringwraiths swept by, your friends ran up behind. Close to
the Ford there is a small hollow beside the road masked by a few stunted
trees. There they hastily kindled fire; for Glorfindel knew that a flood
would come down, if the Riders tried to cross, and then he would have to
deal with any that were left on his side of the river. The moment the flood
appeared, he rushed out, followed by Aragorn and the. others with flaming
brands. Caught between fire and water, and seeing an Elf-lord revealed in
his wrath, they were dismayed, and their horses were stricken with madness.
Three were carried away by the first assault of the flood; the others were
now hurled into the water by their horses and overwhelmed.'
'And is that the end of the Black Riders?' asked Frodo.
'No,' said Gandalf. 'Their horses must have perished, and without them
they are crippled. But the Ringwraiths themselves cannot be so easily
destroyed. However, there is nothing more to fear from them at present. Your
friends crossed after the flood had passed; and they found you lying on your
face at the top of the bank, with a broken sword under you. The horse was
standing guard beside you. You were pale and cold, and they feared that you
were dead, or worse. Elrond's folk met them, carrying you slowly towards
Rivendell.'
`Who made the flood?' asked Frodo.
'Elrond commanded it,' answered Gandalf. `The river of this valley is
under his power, and it will rise in anger when he has great need to bar the
Ford. As soon as the captain of the Ringwraiths rode into the water the
flood was released. If I may say so, I added a few touches of my own: you
may not have noticed, but some of the waves took the form of great white
horses with shining white riders; and there were many rolling and grinding
boulders. For a moment I was afraid that we had let loose too fierce a
wrath, and the flood would get out of hand and wash you all away. There is
great vigour in the waters that come down from the snows of the Misty
Mountains.'
`Yes, it all comes back to me now,' said Frodo: 'the tremendous
roaring. I thought I was drowning, with my friends and enemies and all. But
now we are safe!'
Gandalf looked quickly at Frodo, but he had shut his eyes. 'Yes, you
are all safe for the present. Soon there will be feasting and merrymaking to
celebrate the victory at the Ford of Bruinen, and you will all be there in
places of honour.'
'Splendid!' said Frodo. `It is wonderful that Elrond, and Glorfindel
and such great lords, not to mention Strider, should take so much trouble
and show me so much kindness.'
`Well, there are many reasons why they should,' said Gandalf, smiling.
`I am one good reason. The Ring is another: you are the Ring-bearer. And you
are the heir of Bilbo, the Ring-finder.'
`Dear Bilbo!' said Frodo sleepily. `I wonder where he is. I wish he was
here and could hear all about it. It would have made him laugh, The cow
jumped over the Moon! And the poor old troll!' With that he fell fast
asleep.
Frodo was now safe in the Last Homely House east of the Sea. That house
was, as Bilbo had long ago reported, `a perfect house, whether you like food
or sleep, or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or
a pleasant mixture of them all'. Merely to be there was a cure for
weariness, fear, and sadness.
As the evening drew on, Frodo woke up again, and he found that he no
longer felt in need of rest or sleep, but had a mind for food and drink, and
probably for singing and story-telling afterwards. He got out of bed and
discovered that his arm was already nearly as useful again as it ever had
been. He found laid ready clean garments of green cloth that fitted him
excellently. Looking in a mirror he was startled to see a much thinner
reflection of himself than he remembered: it looked remarkably like the
young nephew of Bilbo who used to go tramping with his uncle in the Shire;
but the eyes looked out at him thoughtfully.
`Yes, you have seen a thing or two since you last peeped out of a
looking-glass,' he said to his reflection. 'But now for a merry meeting!'
He stretched out his arms and whistled a tune.
At that moment there was a knock on the door, and Sam came in. He ran
to Frodo and took his left hand, awkwardly and shyly. He stroked it gently
and then he blushed and turned hastily away.
`Hullo, Sam!' said Frodo.
`It's warm!' said Sam. `Meaning your hand, Mr. Frodo. It has felt so
cold through the long nights. But glory and trumpets!' he cried, turning
round again with shining eyes and dancing on the floor. 'It's fine to see
you up and yourself again, sir! Gandalf asked me to come and see if you were
ready to come down, and I thought he was joking.'
'I am ready,' said Frodo. 'Let's go and look for the rest of the
party!'
`I can take you to them, sir,' said Sam. `It's a big house this, and
very peculiar. Always a bit more to discover, and no knowing what you'll
find round a corner. And Elves, sir! Elves here, and Elves there! Some like
kings, terrible and splendid; and some as merry as children. And the music
and the singing-not that I have had the time or the heart for much listening
since we got here. But I'm getting to know some of the ways of the place.'
'I know what you have been doing, Sam,' said Frodo, taking his arm.
'But you shall be merry tonight, and listen to your heart's content. Come
on, guide me round the corners!'
Sam led him along several passages and down many steps and out into a
high garden above the steep bank of the river. He found his friends sitting
in a porch on the side of the house looking east. Shadows had fallen in the
valley below, but there was still a light on the faces of the mountains far
above. The air was warm. The sound of running and falling water was loud,
and the evening was filled with a faint scent of trees and flowers, as if
summer still lingered in Elrond's gardens.
`Hurray!' cried Pippin, springing up. `Here is our noble cousin! Make
way for Frodo, Lord of the Ring!'
'Hush!' said Gandalf from the shadows at the back of the porch. `Evil
things do not come into this valley; but all the same we should not name
them. The Lord of the Ring is not Frodo, but the master of the Dark Tower of
Mordor, whose power is again stretching out over the world! We are sitting
in a fortress. Outside it is getting dark.'
`Gandalf has been saying many cheerful things like that,' said Pippin.
`He thinks I need keeping in order. But it seems impossible, somehow, to
feel gloomy or depressed in this place. I feel I could sing, if I knew the
right song for the occasion.'
`I feel like singing myself,' laughed Frodo. `Though at the moment I
feel more like eating and drinking!'
`That will soon be cured,' said Pippin. `You have shown your usual
cunning in getting up just in time for a meal.'
`More than meal! A feast!' said Merry. `As soon as Gandalf reported
that you were recovered, the preparations began.' He had hardly finished
speaking when they were summoned to the hall by the ringing of many bells.
The hall of Elrond's house was filled with folk: Elves for the most
part, though there were a few guests of other sorts. Elrond, as was his
custom, sat in a great chair at the end of the long table upon the dais; and
next to him on the one side sat Glorfindel, on the other side sat Gandalf.
Frodo looked at them in wonder, for he had never before seen Elrond, of
whom so many tales spoke; and as they sat upon his right hand and his left,
Glorfindel, and even Gandalf, whom he thought he knew so well, were
revealed
as lords of dignity and power. Gandalf was shorter in stature than the other
two; but his long white hair, his sweeping silver beard, and his broad
shoulders, made him look like some wise king of ancient legend. In his aged
face under great snowy brows his dark eyes were set like coals that could
leap suddenly into fire.
Glorfindel was tall and straight; his hair was of shining gold, his
face fair and young and fearless and full of joy; his eyes were bright and
keen, and his voice like music; on his brow sat wisdom, and in his hand was
strength.
The face of Elrond was ageless, neither old nor young, though in it was
written the memory of many things both glad and sorrowful. His hair was dark
as the shadows of twilight, and upon it was set a circlet of silver; his
eyes were grey as a clear evening, and in them was a light like the light of
stars. Venerable he seemed as a king crowned with many winters, and yet hale
as a tried warrior in the fulness of his strength. He was the Lord of
Rivendell and mighty among both Elves and Men.
In the middle of the table, against the woven cloths upon the wall,
there was a chair under a canopy, and there sat a lady fair to look upon,
and so like was she in form of womanhood to Elrond that Frodo guessed that
she was one of his close kindred. Young she was and yet not so. The braids
of her dark hair were touched by no frost, her white arms and clear face
were flawless and smooth, and the light of stars was in her bright eyes,
grey as a cloudless night; yet queenly she looked, and thought and knowledge
were in her glance, as of one who has known many things that the years
bring. Above her brow her head was covered with a cap of silver lace netted
with small gems, glittering white; but her soft grey raiment had no ornament
save a girdle of leaves wrought in silver.
So it was that Frodo saw her whom few mortals had yet seen; Arwen,
daughter of Elrond, in whom it was said that the likeness of L®thien had
come on earth again; and she was called Undumiel, for she was the Evenstar
of her people. Long she had been in the land of her mother's kin, in Lurien
beyond the mountains, and was but lately returned to Rivendell to her
father's house. But her brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, were out upon
errantry: for they rode often far afield with the Rangers of the North,
forgetting never their mother's torment in the dens of the orcs.
Such loveliness in living thing Frodo had never seen before nor
imagined in his mind; and he was both surprised and abashed to find that he
had a seat at Elrond's table among all these folk so high and fair. Though
he had a suitable chair, and was raised upon several cushions, he felt very
small, and rather out of place; but that feeling quickly passed. The feast
was merry and the food all that his hunger could desire. It was some time
before he looked about him again or even turned to his neighbours.
He looked first for his friends. Sam had begged to be allowed to wait
on his master, but had been told that for this time he was a guest of
honour. Frodo could see him now, sitting with Pippin and Merry at the upper
end of one of the side-tables close to the dais. He could see no sign of
Strider.
Next to Frodo on his right sat a dwarf of important appearance, richly
dressed. His beard, very long and forked, was white, nearly as white as the
snow-white cloth of his garments. He wore a silver belt, and round his neck
hung a chain of silver and diamonds. Frodo stopped eating to look at him.
'Welcome and well met!' said the dwarf, turning towards him. Then he
actually rose from his seat and bowed. `Gluin at your service,' he said, and
bowed still lower.
'Frodo Baggins at your service and your family's,' said Frodo
correctly, rising in surprise and scattering his cushions. 'Am I right in
guessing that you are the Gluin, one of the twelve companions of the great
Thorin Oakenshield?'
`Quite right,' answered the dwarf, gathering up the cushions and
courteously assisting Frodo back into his seat. 'And I do not ask, for I
have already been told that you are the kinsman and adopted heir of our
friend Bilbo the renowned. Allow me to congratulate you on your recovery.'
`Thank you very much,' said Frodo.
'You have had some very strange adventures, I hear,' said Gluin. 'I
wonder greatly what brings four hobbits on so long a journey. Nothing like
it has happened since Bilbo came with us. But perhaps I should not inquire
too closely, since Elrond and Gandalf do not seem disposed to talk of this?'
'I think we will not speak of it, at least not yet,' said Frodo
politely.
He guessed that even in Elrond's house the matter of the Ring was not
one for casual talk; and in any case he wished to forget his troubles for a
time. 'But I am equally curious,' he added, `to learn what brings so
important a dwarf so far from the Lonely Mountain.'
Gluin looked at him. 'If you have not heard, I think we will not speak
yet of that either. Master Elrond will summon us all ere long, I believe,
and then we shall all hear many things. But there is much else that may be
told.'
Throughout the rest of the meal they talked together, but Frodo
listened more than he spoke; for the news of the Shire, apart from the Ring,
seemed small and far-away and unimportant. while Gluin had much to tell of
events in the northern regions of Wilderland. Frodo learned that Grimbeorn
the Old, son of Beorn, was now the lord of many sturdy men, and to their
land between the Mountains and Mirkwood neither orc nor wolf dared to go.
'lndeed,' said Gluin, `if it were not for the Beornings, the passage
from Dale to Rivendell would long ago have become impossible. They are
valiant men and keep open the High Pass and the Ford of Carrock. But their
tolls are high,' he added with a shake of his head; `and like Beorn of old
they are not over fond of dwarves. Still, they are trusty, and that is much
in these days. Nowhere are there any men so friendly to us as the Men of
Dale. They are good folk, the Bardings. The grandson of Bard the Bowman
rules them, Brand son of Bain son of Bard. He is a strong king. and his
realm now reaches far south and east of Esgaroth.'
'And what of your own people?' asked Frodo.
`There is much to tell, good and bad,' said Gluin; 'yet it is mostly
good: we have so far been fortunate, though we do not escape the shadow of
these times. If you really wish to hear of us, I will tell you tidings
gladly. But stop me when you are weary! Dwarves' tongues run on when
speaking of their handiwork, they say.'
And with that Gluin embarked on a long account of the doings of the
Dwarf-kingdom. He was delighted to have found so polite a listener; for
Frodo showed no sign of weariness and made no attempt to change the subject,
though actually he soon got rather lost among the strange names of people
and places that he had never heard of before. He was interested, however, to
hear that Dbin was still King under the Mountain, and was now old (having
passed his two hundred and fiftieth year), venerable, and fabulously rich.
Of the ten companions who had survived the Battle of Five Armies seven were
still with him: Dwalin, Gluin, Dori, Nori, Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur. Bombur
was now so fat that he could not move himself from his couch to his chair at
table, and it took six young dwarves to lift him.
'And what has become of Balin and Ori and Uin?' asked Frodo.
A shadow passed over Gluin's face. `We do not know,' he answered. 'It
is largely on account of Balin that I have come to ask the advice of those
that dwell in Rivendell. But tonight let us speak of merrier things!'
Gluin began then to talk of the works of his people, telling Frodo
about their great labours in Dale and under the Mountain. 'We have done
well,' he said. `But in metalwork we cannot rival our fathers, many of
whose. secrets are lost. We make good armour and keen swords, but we cannot
again make mail or blade to match those that were made before the dragon
came. Only in mining and building have we surpassed the old days. You should
see the waterways of Dale, Frodo, and the fountains, and the pools! You
should see the stone-paved roads of many colours! And the halls and
cavernous streets under the earth with arches carved like trees; and the
terraces and towers upon the Mountain's sides! Then you would see that we
have not been idle.'
'I will come and see them, if ever I can,' said Frodo. 'How surprised
Bilbo would have been to see all the changes in the Desolation of Smaug!'
Gluin looked at Frodo and smiled. 'You were very fond of Bilbo were you
not?' he asked.
`Yes,' answered Frodo. 'I would rather see him than all the towers and
palaces in the world.'
At length the feast came to an end. Elrond and Arwen rose and went down
the hall, and the company followed them in due order. The doors were thrown
open, and they went across a wide passage and through other doors, and came
into a further hall. In it were no tables, but a bright fire was burning in
a great hearth between the carven pillars upon either side.
Frodo found himself walking with Gandalf. `This is the Hall of Fire'
said the wizard. `Here you will hear many songs and tales-if you can keep
awake. But except on high days it usually stands empty and quiet, and people
come here who wish for peace, and thought. There is always a fire here, all
the year round, but there is little other light.'
As Elrond entered and went towards the seat prepared for him, elvish
minstrels began to make sweet music. Slowly the hall filled, and Frodo
looked with delight upon the many fair faces that were gathered together;
the golden firelight played upon them and shimmered in their hair. Suddenly
he noticed, not far from the further end of the fire, a small dark figure
seated on a stool with his back propped against a pillar. Beside him on the
ground was a drinking-cup and some bread. Frodo wondered whether he was
ill
(if people were ever ill in Rivendell), and had been unable to come to the
feast. His head seemed sunk in sleep on his breast, and a fold of his dark
cloak was drawn over his face.
Elrond went forward and stood beside the silent figure. 'Awake little
master. he said, with a smile. Then, turning to Frodo, he beckoned to him.
'Now at last the hour has come that you have wished for, Frodo,' he said.
`Here is a friend that you have long missed.'
The dark figure raised its head and uncovered its face.
`Bilbo!' cried Frodo with sudden recognition, and he sprang forward.
`Hullo, Frodo my lad!' said Bilbo. `So you have got here at last. I
hoped you would manage it. Well, well! So all this feasting is in your
honour, I hear. I hope you enjoyed yourself?'
'Why weren't you there?' cried Frodo. `And why haven't I been allowed
to see you before?'
`Because you were asleep. I have seen a good deal of you. I have sat by
your side with Sam each day. But as for the feast` I don't go in for such
things much now. And I had something else to do.'
`What were you doing?'
`Why, sitting and thinking. I do a lot of that nowadays, and this is
the best place to do it in, as a rule. Wake up, indeed!' he said, cocking an
eye at Elrond. There was a bright twinkle in it and no sign of sleepiness
that Frodo could see. `Wake up! I was not asleep. Master Elrond. If you want
to know, you have all come out from your feast too soon, and you have
disturbed me-in the middle of making up a song. I was stuck over a line or
two, and was thinking about them; but now I don't suppose I shall ever get
them right. There will be such a deal of singing that the ideas will be
driven clean out of my head. I shall have to get my friend the D®nadan to
help me. Where is he?'
Elrond laughed. `He shall be found,' he said. `Then you two shall go
into a corner and finish your task, and we will hear it and judge it before
we end our merrymaking.' Messengers were sent to find Bilbo's friend, though
none knew where he was, or why he had not been present at the feast.
In the meanwhile Frodo and Bilbo sat side by side, and Sam came quickly
and placed himself near them. They talked together in soft voices, oblivious
of the mirth and music in the hall about them. Bilbo had not much to say of
himself. When he had left Hobbiton he had wandered off aimlessly, along the
Road or in the country on either side; but somehow he had steered all the
time towards Rivendell. `I got here without much adventure,' he said, `and
after a rest I went on with the dwarves to Dale: my last journey. I shan't
travel again. Old Balin had gone away. Then I came back here, and here I
have been. I have done this and that. I have written some more of my book.
And, of course, I make up a few songs. They sing them occasionally: just to
please me, I think; for, of course, they aren't really good enough for
Rivendell. And I listen and I think. Time doesn't seem to pass here: it just
is. A remarkable place altogether.
`I hear all kinds of news, from over the Mountains, and out of the
South, but hardly anything from the Shire. I heard about the Ring, of
course. Gandalf has been here often. Not that he has told me a great deal,
he has become closer than ever these last few years. The D®nadan has told me
more. Fancy that ring of mine causing such a disturbance! It is a pity that
Gandalf did not find out more sooner. I could have brought the thing here
myself long ago without so much trouble. I have thought several times of
going back to Hobbiton for it; but I am getting old, and they would not let
me: Gandalf and Elrond, I mean. They seemed to think that the Enemy was
looking high and low for me, and would make mincemeat of me, if he caught
me
tottering about in the Wild.
'And Gandalf said: "The Ring has passed on, Bilbo. It would do no good
to you or to others, if you tried to meddle with it again." Odd sort of
remark, just like Gandalf. But he said he was looking after you, so I let
things be. I am frightfully glad to see you safe and sound.' He paused and
looked at Frodo doubtfully.
`Have you got it here?' he asked in a whisper. `I can't help feeling
curious, you know, after all I've heard. I should very much like just to
peep at it again.'
`Yes, I've got it,' answered Frodo, feeling a strange reluctance. `It
looks just the same as ever it did.'
`Well, I should just like to see it for a moment,' said Bilbo.
When he had dressed, Frodo found that while he slept the Ring had been
hung about his neck on a new chain, light but strong. Slowly he drew it out.
Bilbo put out his hand. But Frodo quickly drew back the Ring. To his
distress and amazement he found that he was no longer looking at Bilbo; a
shadow seemed to have fallen between them, and through it he found himself
eyeing a little wrinkled creature with a hungry face and bony groping hands.
He felt a desire to strike him.
The music and singing round them seemed to falter and a silence fell.
Bilbo looked quickly at Frodo's face and passed his hand across his eyes. `I
understand now,' he said. `Put it away! I am sorry: sorry you have come in
for this burden: sorry about everything. Don't adventures ever have an end?
I suppose not. Someone else always has to carry on the story. Well, it can't
be helped. I wonder if it's any good trying to finish my book? But don't
let's worry about it now-let's have some real News! Tell me all about the
Shire!'
Frodo hid the Ring away, and the shadow passed leaving hardly a shred
of memory. The light and music of Rivendell was about him again. Bilbo
smiled and laughed happily. Every item of news from the Shire that Frodo
could tell-aided and corrected now and again by Sam-was of the greatest
interest to him, from the felling of the least tree to the pranks of the
smallest child in Hobbiton. They were so deep in the doings of the Four
Farthings that they did not notice the arrival of a man clad in dark green
cloth. For many minutes he stood looking down at them with a smile.
Suddenly Bilbo looked up. 'Ah, there you are at last, D®nadan!' he
cried.
`Strider!' said Frodo. `You seem to have a lot of names.'
`Well, Strider is one that I haven't heard before, anyway,' said Bilbo.
`What do you call him that for?'
`They call me that in Bree,' said Strider laughing, 'and that is how I
was introduced to him.'
`And why do you call him D®nadan?' asked Frodo.
`The D®nadan,' said Bilbo. `He is often called that here. But I thought
you knew enough Elvish at least to know d®n-udan: Man of the West,
N®menorean. But this is not the time for lessons!' He turned to Strider.
`Where have you been, my friend? Why weren't you at the feast? The Lady
Arwen was there.'
Strider looked down at Bilbo gravely. `I know,' he said. 'But often I
must put mirth aside. Elladan and Elrohir have returned out of the Wild
unlooked-for, and they had tidings that I wished to hear at once.'
`Well, my dear fellow,' said Bilbo, `now you've heard the news, can't
you spare me a moment? I want your help in something urgent. Elrond says
this song of mine is to be finished before the end of the evening, and I am
stuck. Let's go off into a corner and polish it up!'
Strider smiled. `Come then!' he said. `Let me hear it!'
Frodo was left to himself for a while. for Sam had fallen asleep. He
was alone and felt rather forlorn` although all about him the folk of
Rivendell were gathered. But those near him were silent, intent upon the
music of the voices and the instruments. and they gave no heed to anything
else. Frodo began to listen.
At first the beauty of the melodies and of the interwoven words in
elven-tongues, even though he understood them little` held him in a spell,
as soon as he began to attend to them. Almost it seemed that the words took
shape, and visions of far lands and bright things that he had never yet
imagined opened out before him; and the firelit hall became like a golden
mist above seas of foam that sighed upon the margins of the world. Then the
enchantment became more and more dreamlike, until he felt that an endless
river of swelling gold and silver was flowing over him, too multitudinous
for its pattern to be comprehended; it became part of the throbbing air
about him, and it drenched and drowned him. Swiftly he sank under its
shining weight into a deep realm of sleep.
There he wandered long in a dream of music that turned into running
water, and then suddenly into a voice. It seemed to be the voice of Bilbo
chanting verses. Faint at first and then clearer ran the words.
Edrendil was a mariner
that tarried in Arvernien;
he built a boat of timber felled
in Nimbrethil to journey in;
her sails he wove of silver fair,
of silver were her lanterns made,
her prow was fashioned like a swan,
and light upon her banners laid.
In panoply of ancient kings,
in chain‚d rings he armoured him;
his shining shield was scored with runes
to ward all wounds and harm from him;
his bow was made of dragon-horn,
his arrows shorn of ebony,
of silver was his habergeon,
his scabbard of chalcedony;
his sword of steel was valiant,
of adamant his helmet tall,
an eagle-plume upon his crest,
upon his breast an emerald.
Beneath the Moon and under star
he wandered far from northern strands,
bewildered on enchanted ways
beyond the days of mortal lands.
From gnashing of the Narrow Ice
where shadow lies on frozen hills,
from nether heats and burning waste
he turned in haste, and roving still
on starless waters far astray
at last he came to Night of Naught,
and passed, and never sight he saw
of shining shore nor light he sought.
The winds of wrath came driving him,
and blindly in the foam he fled
from west to east and errandless,
unheralded he homeward sped.
There flying Elwing came to him,
and flame was in the darkness lit;
more bright than light of diamond
the fire upon her carcanet.
The Silmaril she bound on him
and crowned him with the living light
and dauntless then with burning brow
he turned his prow; and in the night
from Otherworld beyond the Sea
there strong and free a storm arose,
a wind of power in Tarmenel;
by paths that seldom mortal goes
his boat it bore with biting breath
as might of death across the grey
and long-forsaken seas distressed:
from east to west he passed away.
Through Evernight he back was borne
on black and roaring waves that ran
o'er leagues unlit and foundered shores
that drowned before the Days began,
until he heard on strands of pearl
when ends the world the music long,
where ever foaming billows roll
the yellow gold and jewels wan.
He saw the Mountain silent rise
where twilight lies upon the knees
of Valinor, and Eldamar
beheld afar beyond the seas.
A wanderer escaped from night
to haven white he came at last,
to Elvenhome the green and fair
where keen the air, where pale as glass
beneath the Hill of Ilmarin
a-glimmer in a valley sheer
the lamplit towers of Tirion
are mirrored on the Shadowmere.
He tarried there from errantry,
and melodies they taught to him,
and sages old him marvels told,
and harps of gold they brought to him.
They clothed him then in elven-white,
and seven lights before him sent,
as through the Calacirian
to hidden land forlorn he went.
He came unto the timeless halls
where shining fall the countless years,
and endless reigns the Elder King
in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer;
and words unheard were spoken then
of folk of Men and Elven-kin,
beyond the world were visions showed
forbid to those that dwell therein.
A ship then new they built for him
of mithril and of elven-glass
with shining prow; no shaven oar
nor sail she bore on silver mast:
the Silmaril as lantern light
and banner bright with living flame
to gleam thereon by Elbereth
herself was set, who thither came
and wings immortal made for him,
and laid on him undying doom,
to sail the shoreless skies and come
behind the Sun and light of Moon.
From Evereven's lofty hills
where softly silver fountains fall
his wings him bore, a wandering light,
beyond the mighty Mountain Wall.
From World's End then he turned away
and yearned again to find afar
his home through shadows journeying,
and burning as an island star
on high above the mists he came,
a distant flame before the Sun,
a wonder ere the waking dawn
where grey the Norland waters run.
And over Middle-earth he passed
and heard at last the weeping sore
of women and of elven-maids
in Elder Days, in years of yore.
gut on him mighty doom was laid,
till Moon should fade, an orb‚d star
to pass, and tarry never more
on Hither Shores where mortals are;
for ever still a herald on
an errand that should never rest
to bear his shining lamp afar,
the Flammifer of Westernesse.
The chanting ceased. Frodo opened his eyes and saw that Bilbo was
seated on his stool in a circle of listeners, who were smiling and
applauding.
`Now we had better have it again,' said an Elf.
Bilbo got up and bowed. `I am flattered, Lindir,' he said. 'But it
would be too tiring to repeat it all.'
'Not too tiring for you,' the Elves answered laughing. 'You know you
are never tired of reciting your own verses. But really we cannot answer
your question at one hearing!'
`What!' cried Bilbo. 'You can't tell which parts were mine, and which
were the D®nadan's?'
'It is not easy for us to tell the difference between two mortals' said
the Elf.
'Nonsense, Lindir,' snorted Bilbo. 'If you can't distinguish between a
Man and a Hobbit, your judgement is poorer than I imagined. They're as
different as peas and apples.'
'Maybe. To sheep other sheep no doubt appear different,' laughed
Lindir. `Or to shepherds. But Mortals have not been our study. We have other
business.'
'I won't argue with you,' said Bilbo. 'I am sleepy after so much music
and singing. I'll leave you to guess, if you want to.'
He got up and came towards Frodo. 'Well, that's over,' he said in a low
voice. `It went off better than I expected. I don't often get asked for a
second hearing. What did you think of it?'
`I am not going to try and guess,' said Frodo smiling.
`You needn't,' said Bilbo. `As a matter of fact it was all mine. Except
that Aragorn insisted on my putting in a green stone. He seemed to think it
important. I don't know why. Otherwise he obviously thought the whole thing
rather above my head, and he said that if I had the cheek to make verses
about Edrendil in the house of Elrond, it was my affair. I suppose he was
right.'
'I don't know,' said Frodo. `It seemed to me to fit somehow, though I
can't explain. I was half asleep when you began, and it seemed to follow on
from something that I was dreaming about. I didn't understand that it was
really you speaking until near the end.'
`It is difficult to keep awake here, until you get used to it;' said
Bilbo. 'Not that hobbits would ever acquire quite the elvish appetite for
music and poetry and tales. They seem to like them as much as food, or more.
They will be going on for a long time yet. What do you say to slipping off
for some more quiet talk?'
`Can we?' said Frodo.
`Of course. This is merrymaking not business. Come and go as you like,
as long as you don't make a noise.'
They got up and withdrew quietly into the shadows, and made for the
doors. Sam they left behind, fast asleep still with a smile on his face. In
spite of his delight in Bilbo's company Frodo felt a tug of regret as they
passed out of the Hall of Fire. Even as they stepped over the threshold a
single clear voice rose in song.
A Elbereth Gilthoniel,
silivren penna mnriel
o menel aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-dnriel
o galadhremmin ennorath,
Fanuilos, le linnathon
nef aear, sn nef aearon!
Frodo halted for a moment, looking back. Elrond was in his chair and
the fire was on his face like summer-light upon the trees. Near him sat the
Lady Arwen. To his surprise Frodo saw that Aragorn stood beside her; his
dark cloak was thrown back, and he seemed to be clad in elven-mail, and a
star shone on his breast. They spoke together, and then suddenly it seemed
to Frodo that Arwen turned towards him, and the light of her eyes fell on
him from afar and pierced his heart.
He stood still enchanted, while the sweet syllables of the elvish song
fell like clear jewels of blended word and melody. `It is a song to
Elbereth,' said Bilbo. `They will sing that, and other songs of the Blessed
Realm, many times tonight. Come on!'
He led Frodo back to his own little room. It opened on to the gar dens
and looked south across the ravine of the Bruinen. There they sat for some
while, looking through the window at the bright stars above the
steep-climbing woods, and talking softly. They spoke no more of the small
news of the Shire far away, nor of the dark shadows and perils that
encompassed them, but of the fair things they had seen in the world
together, of the Elves, of the stars, of trees, and the gentle fall of the
bright year in the woods.
At last there came a knock on the door. `Begging your pardon,' said
Sam, putting in his head, `but I was just wondering if you would be wanting
anything.'
`And begging yours, Sam Gamgee,' replied Bilbo. `I guess you mean that
it is time your master went to bed.'
`Well, sir, there is a Council early tomorrow, I hear and he only got
up today for the first time.'
`Quite right, Sam,' laughed Bilbo. `You can trot off and tell Gandalf
that he has gone to bed. Good night, Frodo! Bless me, but it has been good
to see you again! There are no folk like hobbits after all for a real good
talk. I am getting very old, and I began to wonder if I should ever live to
see your chapters of our story. Good night! I'll take a walk, I think, and
look at the stars of Elbereth in the garden. Sleep well!'
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The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 10 - Strider (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 15 - The Ring Goes South (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 20 - The Great River (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 21 - The Breaking of the Fellowship (1)


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Showing posts with label The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond. Show all posts
Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond.
Next day Frodo woke early, feeling refreshed and well. He walked along
the terraces above the loud-flowing Bruinen and watched the pale, cool sun
rise above the far mountains, and shine down. Slanting through the thin
silver mist; the dew upon the yellow leaves was glimmering, and the woven
nets of gossamer twinkled on every bush. Sam walked beside him, saying
nothing. but sniffing the air, and looking every now and again with wonder
in his eyes at the great heights in the East. The snow was white upon their
peaks.
On a seat cut in the stone beside a turn in the path they came upon
Gandalf and Bilbo deep in talk. `Hullo! Good morning!' said Bilbo. `Feel
ready for the great council?'
`I feel ready for anything,' answered Frodo. `But most of all I should
like to go walking today and explore the valley. I should like to get into
those pine-woods up there.' He pointed away far up the side of Rivendell to
the north.
'You may have a chance later,' said Gandalf. `But we cannot make any
plans yet. There is much to hear and decide today.'
Suddenly as they were talking a single clear bell rang out. `That is
the warning bell for the Council of Elrond,' cried Gandalf. `Come along now!
Both you and Bilbo are wanted.'
Frodo and Bilbo followed the wizard quickly along the winding path back
to the house; behind them, uninvited and for the moment forgotten, trotted
Sam.
Gandalf led them to the porch where Frodo had found his friends the
evening before. The light of the clear autumn morning was now glowing in the
valley. The noise of bubbling waters came up from the foaming river-bed.
Birds were singing, and a wholesome peace lay on the land. To Frodo his
dangerous flight, and the rumours of the darkness growing in the world
outside, already seemed only the memories of a troubled dream; but the faces
that were turned to meet them as they entered were grave.
Elrond was there, and several others were seated in silence about him.
Frodo saw Glorfindel and Gluin; and in a corner alone Strider was sitting,
clad in his old travel-worn clothes again. Elrond drew Frodo to a seat by
his side, and presented him to the company, saying:
'Here, my friends is the hobbit, Frodo son of Drogo. Few have ever come
hither through greater peril or on an errand more urgent.'
He then pointed out and named those whom Frodo had not met before.
There was a younger dwarf at Gluin's side: his son Gimli. Beside Glorfindel
there were several other counsellors of Elrond's household, of whom Erestor
was the chief; and with him was Galdor, an Elf from the Grey Havens who had
come on an errand from Cnrdan the Shipwright. There was also a strange Elf
clad in green and brown, Legolas, a messenger from his father, Thranduil,
the King of the Elves of Northern Mirkwood. And seated a little apart was a
tall man with a fair and noble face, dark-haired and grey-eyed, proud and
stern of glance.
He was cloaked and booted as if for a journey on horseback; and indeed
though his garments were rich, and his cloak was lined with fur, they were
stained with long travel. He had a collar of silver in which a single white
stone was set; his locks were shorn about his shoulders. On a baldric he
wore a great horn tipped with silver that now was laid upon his knees. He
gazed at Frodo and Bilbo with sudden wonder.
`Here,' said Elrond, turning to Gandalf, `is Boromir, a man from the
South. He arrived in the grey morning, and seeks for counsel. I have bidden
him to be present, for here his questions will be answered.'
Not all that was spoken and debated in the Council need now be told.
Much was said of events in the world outside, especially in the South, and
in the wide lands east of the Mountains. Of these things Frodo had already
heard many rumours; but the tale of Gluin was new to him, and when the dwarf
spoke he listened attentively. It appeared that amid the splendour of their
works of hand the hearts of the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain were
troubled.
`It is now many years ago,' said Gluin, `that a shadow of disquiet fell
upon our people. Whence it came we did not at first perceive. Words began to
be whispered in secret-: it was said that we were hemmed in a narrow place,
and that greater wealth and splendour would be found in a wider world. Some
spoke of Moria: the mighty works of our fathers that are called in our own
tongue Khazad-dym; and they declared that now at last we had the power and
numbers to return.'
Gluin sighed. `Moria! Moria! Wonder of the Northern world! Too deep we
delved there, and woke the nameless fear. Long have its vast mansions lain
empty since the children of Durin fled. But now we spoke of it again with
longing, and yet with dread; for no dwarf has dared to pass the doors of
Khazad-dym for many lives of kings, save Thrur only, and he perished. At
last, however, Balin listened to the whispers, and resolved to go; and
though Dbin did not give leave willingly, he took with him Ori and Uin and
many of our folk, and they went away south.
"That was nigh on thirty years ago. For a while we had news and it
seemed good: messages reported that Moria had been entered and a great work
begun there. Then there was silence, and no word has ever come from Moria
since.
"Then about a year ago a messenger came to Dbin, but not from
Moria-from Mordor: a horseman in the night, who called Dbin to his gate. The
Lord Sauron the Great, so he said, wished for our friendship. Rings he would
give for it, such as he gave of old. And he asked urgently concerning
hobbits, of what kind they were, and where they dwelt. "For Sauron knows,"
said he, "that one of these was known to you on a time."
'At this we were greatly troubled, and we gave no answer. And then his
fell voice was lowered, and he would have sweetened it if he could. "As a
small token only of your friendship Sauron asks this," he said: "that you
should find this thief," such was his word, "and get from him, willing or
no, a little ring, the least of rings, that once he stole. It is but a
trifle that Sauron fancies, and an earnest of your good will. Find it, and
three rings that the Dwarf sires possessed of old shall be returned to you,
and the realm of Moria shall be yours for ever. Find only news of the thief,
whether he still lives and where, and you shall have great reward and
lasting friendship from the Lord. Refuse, and things will not seem so well.
Do you refuse?"
'At that his breath came like the hiss of snakes, and all who stood by
shuddered, but Dbin said: "I say neither yea nor nay. I must consider this
message and what it means under its fair cloak."
' "Consider well, but not too long," said he.
` "The time of my thought is my own to spend," answered Dbin.
' "For the present," said he, and rode into the darkness.
'Heavy have the hearts of our chieftains been since that night. We
needed not the fell voice of the messenger to warn us that his words held
both menace and deceit; for we knew already that the power that has
re-entered Mordor has not changed, and ever it betrayed us of old. Twice the
messenger has returned, and has gone unanswered. The third and last time, so
he says, is soon to come, before the ending of the year.
'And so I have been sent at last by Dbin to warn Bilbo that he is
sought by the Enemy, and to learn, if may be, why he desires this ring, this
least of rings. Also we crave the advice of Elrond. For the Shadow grows and
draws nearer. We discover that messengers have come also to King Brand in
Dale, and that he is afraid. We fear that he may yield. Already war is
gathering on his eastern borders. If we make no answer, the Enemy may move
Men of his rule to assail King Brand, and Dbin also.'
`You have done well to come,' said Elrond. `You will hear today all
that you need in order to understand the purposes of the Enemy. There is
naught that you can do, other than to resist, with hope or without it. But
you do not stand alone. You will learn that your trouble is but part of the
trouble of all the western world. The Ring! What shall we do with the Ring,
the least of rings, the trifle that Sauron fancies? That is the doom that we
must deem.
`That is the purpose for which you are called hither. Called, I say.
though I have not called you to me, strangers from distant lands. You have
come and are here met, in this very nick of time, by chance as it may seem.
Yet it is not so. Believe rather that it is so ordered that we, who sit
here, and none others, must now find counsel for the peril of the world.
`Now, therefore, things shall be openly spoken that have been hidden
from all but a few until this day. And first, so that all may understand
what is the peril, the Tale of the Ring shall be told from the beginning
even to this present. And I will begin that tale, though others shall end
it.'
Then all listened while Elrond in his clear voice spoke of Sauron and
the Rings of Power, and their forging in the Second Age of the world long
ago. A part of his tale was known to some there, but the full tale to none,
and many eyes were turned t= Elrond in fear and wonder as he told of the
Elven-smiths of Eregion and their friendship with Moria, and their eagerness
for knowledge, by which Sauron ensnared them. For in that time he was not
yet evil to behold, and they received his aid and grew mighty in craft,
whereas he learned all their secrets, and betrayed them, and forged secretly
in the Mountain of Fire the One Ring to be their master. But Celebrimbor was
aware of him, and hid the Three which he had made; and there was war, and
the land was laid waste, and the gate of Moria was shut.
Then through all the years that followed he traced the Ring; but since
that history is elsewhere recounted, even as Elrond himself set it down in
his books of lore, it is not here recalled. For it is a long tale, full of
deeds great and terrible, and briefly though Elrond spoke, the sun rode up
the sky, and the morning was passing ere he ceased.
Of N®menor he spoke, its glory and its fall, and the return of the
Kings of Men to Middle-earth out of the deeps of the Sea, borne upon the
wings of storm. Then Elendil the Tall and his mighty sons, Isildur and
Anbrion, became great lords; and the North-realm they made in Arnor, and the
South-realm in Gondor above the mouths of Anduin. But Sauron of Mordor
assailed them, and they made the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, and the
hosts of Gil-galad and Elendil were mustered in Arnor.
Thereupon Elrond paused a while and sighed. `I remember well the
splendour of their banners,' he said. `It recalled to me the glory of the
Elder Days and the hosts of Beleriand, so many great princes and captains
were assembled. And yet not so many, nor so fair, as when Thangorodrim was
broken, and the Elves deemed that evil was ended for ever, and it was not
so.'
`You remember?' said Frodo, speaking his thought aloud in his
astonishment. `But I thought,' he stammered as Elrond turned towards him, 'I
thought that the fall of Gil-galad was a long age ago.'
'So it was indeed,' answered Elrond gravely. `But my memory reaches
back even to the Elder Days. Edrendil was my sire, who was born in Gondolin
before its fall; and my mother was Elwing, daughter of Dior, son of L®thien
of Doriath. I have seen three ages in the West of the world, and many
defeats, and many fruitless victories.
`I was the herald of Gil-galad and marched with his host. I was at the
Battle of Dagorlad before the Black Gate of Mordor, where we had the
mastery: for the Spear of Gil-galad and the Sword of Elendil, Aiglos and
Narsil, none could withstand. I beheld the last combat on the slopes of
Orodruin, where Gil-galad died, and Elendil fell, and Narsil broke beneath
him; but Sauron himself was overthrown, and Isildur cut the Ring from his
hand with the hilt-shard of his father's sword, and took it for his own.'
At this the stranger, Boromir, broke in. `So that is what became of the
Ring!' he cried. `If ever such a tale was told in the South, it has long
been forgotten. I have heard of the Great Ring of him that we do not name;
but we believed that it perished from the world in the ruin of his first
realm. Isildur took it! That is tidings indeed.'
`Alas! yes,' said Elrond. `Isildur took it, as should not have been. It
should have been cast then into Orodruin's fire nigh at hand where it was
made. But few marked what Isildur did. He alone stood by his father in that
last mortal contest; and by Gil-galad only Cnrdan stood, and I. But Isildur
would not listen to our counsel.
' "This I will have as weregild for my father, and my brother," he
said; and therefore whether we would or no, he took it to treasure it. But
soon he was betrayed by it to his death; and so it is named in the North
Isildur's Bane. Yet death maybe was better than what else might have
befallen him.
'Only to the North did these tidings come, and only to a few. Small
wonder it is that you have not heard them, Boromir. From the ruin of the
Gladden Fields, where Isildur perished, three men only came ever back over
the mountains after long wandering. One of these was Ohtar, the esquire of
Isildur, who bore the shards of the sword of Elendil; and he brought them to
Valandil, the heir of Isildur, who being but a child had remained here in
Rivendell. But Narsil was broken and its light extinguished, and it has not
yet been forged again.
`Fruitless did I call the victory of the Last Alliance? Not wholly so,
yet it did not achieve its end. Sauron was diminished, but not destroyed.
His Ring was lost but not unmade. The Dark Tower was broken, but its
foundations were not removed; for they were made with the power of the Ring,
and while it remains they will endure. Many Elves and many mighty Men,
and
many of their friends. had perished in the war. Anbrion was slain, and
Isildur was slain; and Gil-galad and Elendil were no more. Never again shall
there be any such league of Elves and Men; for Men multiply and the
Firstborn decrease, and the two kindreds are estranged. And ever since that
day the race of N®menor has decayed, and the span of their years has
lessened.
'In the North after the war and the slaughter of the Gladden Fields the
Men of Westernesse were diminished, and their city of Ann®minas beside
Lake
Evendim fell into ruin; and the heirs of Valandil removed and dwelt at
Fornost on the high North Downs, and that now too is desolate. Men call it
Deadmen's Dike, and they fear to tread there. For the folk of Arnor
dwindled, and their foes devoured them, and their lordship passed, leaving
only green mounds in the grassy hills.
'In the South the realm of Gondor long endured; and for a while its
splendour grew, recalling somewhat of the might of N®menor, ere it fell.
High towers that people built, and strong places. and havens of many ships;
and the winged crown of the Kings of Men was held in awe by folk of many
tongues. Their chief city was Osgiliath, Citadel of the Stars. through the
midst of which the River flowed. And Minas Ithil they built, Tower of the
Rising Moon, eastward upon a shoulder of the Mountains of Shadow; and
westward at the feet of the White Mountains Minas Anor they made, Tower of
the Setting Sun. There in the courts of the King grew a white tree, from the
seed of that tree which Isildur brought over the deep waters, and the seed
of that tree before came from Eressla, and before that out of the Uttermost
West in the Day before days when the world was young.
`But in the wearing of the swift years of Middle-earth the line of
Meneldil son of Anbrion failed, and the Tree withered, and the blood of the
N®menoreans became mingled with that of lesser men. Then the watch upon
the
walls of Mordor slept, and dark things crept back to Gorgoroth. And on a
time evil things came forth, and they took Minas Ithil and abode in it, and
they made it into a place of dread; and it is called Minas Morgul, the Tower
of Sorcery. Then Minas Anor was named anew Minas Tirith, the Tower of
Guard;
and these two cities were ever at war, but Osgiliath which lay between was
deserted and in its ruins shadows walked.
'So it has been for many lives of men. But the Lords of Minas Tirith
still fight on, defying our enemies, keeping the passage of the River from
Argonath to the Sea. And now that part of the tale that I shall tell is
drawn to its close. For in the days of Isildur the Ruling Ring passed out of
all knowledge, and the Three were released from its dominion. But now in
this latter day they are in peril once more, for to our sorrow the One has
been found. Others shall speak of its finding, for in that I played small
part.'
He ceased, but at once Boromir stood up, tall and proud, before them.
Give me leave, Master Elrond, said he, first to say more of Gondor; for
verily from the land of Gondor I am come. And it would be well for all to
know what passes there. For few, I deem, know of our deeds, and therefore
guess little of their peril, if we should fail at last.
`Believe not that in the land of Gondor the blood of N®menor is spent,
nor all its pride and dignity forgotten. By our valour the wild folk of the
East are still restrained, and the terror of Morgul kept at bay; and thus
alone are peace and freedom maintained in the lands behind us, bulwark of
the West. But if the passages of the River should be won, what then?
`Yet that hour, maybe, is not now far away. The Nameless Enemy has
arisen again. Smoke rises once more from Orodruin that we call Mount
Doom.
The power of the Black Land grows and we are hard beset. When the
Enemy
returned our folk were driven from Ithilien, our fair domain east of the
River, though we kept a foothold there and strength of arms. But this very
year, in the days of June, sudden war came upon us out of Mordor, and we
were swept away. We were outnumbered, for Mordor has allied itself with the
Easterlings and the cruel Haradrim; but it was not by numbers that we were
defeated. A power was there that we have not felt before.
`Some said that it could be seen, like a great black horseman, a dark
shadow under the moon. Wherever he came a madness filled our foes, but fear
fell on our boldest, so that horse and man gave way and fled. Only a remnant
of our eastern force came back, destroying the last bridge that still stood
amid the ruins of Osgiliath.
'I was in the company that held the bridge, until it was cast down
behind us. Four only were saved by swimming: my brother and myself and
two
others. But still we fight on, holding all the west shores of Anduin; and
those who shelter behind us give us praise, if ever they hear our name: much
praise but little help. Only from Rohan now will any men ride to us when we
call.
`In this evil hour I have come on an errand over many dangerous leagues
to Elrond: a hundred and ten days I have journeyed all alone. But I do not
seek allies in war. The might of Elrond is in wisdom not in weapons, it is
said. I come to ask for counsel and the unravelling of hard words. For on
the eve of the sudden assault a dream came to my brother in a troubled
sleep; and afterwards a like dream came oft to him again, and once to me.
'In that dream I thought the eastern sky grew dark and there was a
growing thunder, but in the West a pale light lingered, and out of it I
heard a voice, remote but clear, crying:
Seek for the Sword that was broken:
In Imladris it dwells;
There shall be counsels taken
Stronger than Morgul-spells.
There shall be shown a token
That Doom is near at hand,
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,
And the Halfling forth shall stand.
Of these words we could understand little, and we spoke to our father,
Denethor, Lord of Minas Tirith, wise in the lore of Gondor. This only would
he say, that Imladris was of old the name among the Elves of a far northern
dale, where Elrond the Halfelven dwelt, greatest of lore-masters. Therefore
my brother, seeing how desperate was our need, was eager to heed the dream
and seek for Imladris; but since the way was full of doubt and danger, I
took the journey upon myself. Loth was my father to give me leave, and long
have I wandered by roads forgotten, seeking the house of Elrond, of which
many had heard, but few knew where it lay.'
'And here in the house of Elrond more shall be made clear to you' said
Aragorn, standing up. He cast his sword upon the table that stood before
Elrond, and the blade was in two pieces. `Here is the Sword that was
Broken!' he said.
`And who are you, and what have you to do with Minas Tirith?' asked
Boromir, looking in wonder at the lean face of the Ranger and his
weather-stained cloak.
`He is Aragorn son of Arathorn,' said Elrond; `and he is descended
through many fathers from Isildur Elendil's son of Minas Ithil. He is the
Chief of the D®nedain in the North, and few are now left of that folk.'
`Then it belongs to you, and not to me at all!' cried Frodo in
amazement, springing to his feet, as if he expected the Ring to be demanded
at once.
'It does not belong to either of us,' said Aragorn; `but it has been
ordained that you should hold it for a while.'
'Bring out the Ring, Frodo!' said Gandalf solemnly. `The time has come.
Hold it up, and then Boromir will understand the remainder of his riddle.'
There was a hush, and all turned their eyes on Frodo. He was shaken by
a sudden shame and fear; and he felt a great reluctance to reveal the Ring,
and a loathing of its touch. He wished he was far away. The Ring gleamed and
flickered as he held it up before them in his trembling hand.
'Behold Isildur's Bane!' said Elrond.
Boromir's eyes glinted as he gazed at the golden thing. `The Halfling!'
he muttered. `Is then the doom of Minas Tirith come at last? But why then
should we seek a broken sword?'
'The words were not the doom of Minas Tirith,' said Aragorn. `But doom
and great deeds are indeed at hand. For the Sword that was Broken is the
Sword of Elendil that broke beneath him when he fell. It has been treasured
by his heirs when all other heirlooms were lost; for it was spoken of old
among us that it should be made again when the Ring, Isildur's Bane, was
found. Now you have seen the sword that you have sought, what would you
ask?
Do you wish for the House of Elendil to return to the Land of Gondor?'
`I was not sent to beg any boon, but to seek only the meaning of a
riddle,' answered Boromir proudly. `Yet we are hard pressed, and the Sword
of Elendil would be a help beyond our hope-if such a thing could indeed
return out of the shadows of the past.' He looked again at Aragorn, and
doubt was in his eyes.
Frodo felt Bilbo stir impatiently at his side. Evidently he was annoyed
on his friend's behalf. Standing suddenly up he burst out:
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken:
The crownless again shall be king.
`Not very good perhaps, but to the point -- if you need more beyond the
word of Elrond. If that was worth a journey of a hundred and ten days to
hear, you had best listen to it.' He sat down with a snort.
`I made that up myself,' he whispered to Frodo, `for the D®nadan, a
long time ago when he first told me about himself. I almost wish that my
adventures were not over, and that I could go with him when his day comes.'
Aragorn smiled at him; then he turned to Boromir again. `For my part I
forgive your doubt,' he said. 'Little do I resemble the figures of Elendil
and Isildur as they stand carven in their majesty in the halls of Denethor.
I am but the heir of Isildur, not Isildur himself. I have had a hard life
and a long; and the leagues that lie between here and Gondor are a small
part in the count of my journeys. I have crossed many mountains and many
rivers, and trodden many plains, even into the far countries of Rhyn and
Harad where the stars are strange.
'But my home, such as I have, is in the North. For here the heirs of
Valandil have ever dwelt in long line unbroken from father unto son for many
generations. Our days have darkened, and we have dwindled; but ever the
Sword has passed to a new keeper. And this I will say to you, Boromir, ere I
end. Lonely men are we, Rangers of the wild, hunters--but hunters ever of
the servants of the Enemy; for they are found in many places, not in Mordor
only.
`If Gondor, Boromir, has been a stalwart tower, we have played another
part. Many evil things there are that your strong walls and bright swords do
not stay. You know little of the lands beyond your bounds. Peace and
freedom, do you say? The North would have known them little but for us. Fear
would have destroyed them. But when dark things come from the houseless
hills, or creep from sunless woods, they fly from us. What roads would any
dare to tread, what safety would there be in quiet lands, or in the homes of
simple men at night, if the D®nedain were asleep, or were all gone into the
grave?
`And yet less thanks have we than you. Travellers scowl at us, and
countrymen give us scornful names. "Strider" I am to one fat man who lives
within a day's march of foes that would freeze his heart or lay his little
town in ruin, if he were not guarded ceaselessly. Yet we would not have it
otherwise. If simple folk are free from care and fear, simple they will be,
and we must be secret to keep them so. That has been the task of my kindred,
while the years have lengthened and the grass has grown.
`But now the world is changing once again. A new hour comes. Isildur's
Bane is found. Battle is at hand. The Sword shall be reforged. I will come
to Minas Tirith.'
`Isildur's Bane is found, you say,' said Boromir. `I have seen a bright
ring in the Halfling's hand; but Isildur perished ere this age of the world
began, they say. How do the Wise know that this ring is his? And how has it
passed down the years, until it is brought hither by so strange a
messenger?'
`That shall be told,' said Elrond.
`But not yet, I beg, Master!' said Bilbo. `Already the Sun is climbing
to noon, and I feel the need of something to strengthen me.'
`I had not named you,' said Elrond smiling. `But I do so now. Come!
Tell us your tale. And if you have not yet cast your story into verse, you
may tell it in plain words. The briefer, the sooner shall you be refreshed.'
`Very well,' said Bilbo. `I will do as you bid. But I will now tell the
true story, and if some here have heard me tell it otherwise' -- he looked
sidelong at Gluin -- `I ask them to forget it and forgive me. I only wished
to claim the treasure as my very own in those days, and to be rid of the
name of thief that was put on me. But perhaps I understand things a little
better now. Anyway, this is what happened.'
To some there Bilbo's tale was wholly new, and they listened with
amazement while the old hobbit, actually not at all displeased, recounted
his adventure with Gollum, at full length. He did not omit a single riddle.
He would have given also an account of his party and disappearance from the
Shire, if he had been allowed; but Elrond raised his hand.
'Well told, my friend,' he said, `but that is enough at this time. For
the moment it suffices to know that the Ring passed to Frodo, your heir. Let
him now speak!'
Then, less willingly than Bilbo, Frodo told of all his dealings with
the Ring from the day that it passed into his keeping. Every step of his
journey from Hobbiton to the Ford of Bruinen was questioned and considered,
and everything that he could recall concerning the Black Riders was
examined. At last he sat down again.
`Not bad,' Bilbo said to him. `You would have made a good story of it,
if they hadn't kept on interrupting. I tried to make a few notes, but we
shall have to go over it all again together some time, if I am to write it
up. There are whole chapters of stuff before you ever got here!'
`Yes, it made quite a long tale,' answered Frodo. 'But the story still
does not seem complete to me. I still want to know a good deal, especially
about Gandalf.'
Galdor of the Havens, who sat near by, overheard him. `You speak for me
also,' he cried, and turning to Elrond he said: `The Wise may have good
reason to believe that the halfling's trove is indeed the Great Ring of long
debate, unlikely though that may seem to those who know less. But may we not
hear the proofs? And I would ask this also. What of Saruman? He is learned
in the lore of the Rings, yet he is not among us. What is his counsel-if he
knows the things that we have heard?'
`The questions that you ask, Galdor, are bound together,' said Elrond.
`I had not overlooked them, and they shall be answered. But these things it
is the part of Gandalf to make clear; and I call upon him last, for it is
the place of honour, and in all this matter he has been the chief.'
`Some, Galdor,' said Gandalf, `would think the tidings of Gluin, and
the pursuit of Frodo, proof enough that the halfling's trove is a thing of
great worth to the Enemy. Yet it is a ring. What then? The Nine the Nazgyl
keep. The Seven are taken or destroyed.' At this Gluin stirred, but did not
speak. `The Three we know of. What then is this one that he desires so much?
'There is indeed a wide waste of time between the River and the
Mountain, between the loss and the finding. But the gap in the knowledge of
the Wise has been filled at last. Yet too slowly. For the Enemy has been
close behind, closer even than I feared. And well is it that not until this
year, this very summer, as it seems, did he learn the full truth.
'Some here will remember that many years ago I myself dared to pass the
doors of the Necromancer in Dol Guldur, and secretly explored his ways, and
found thus that our fears were true: he was none other than Sauron, our
Enemy of old, at length taking shape and power again. Some, too, will
remember also that Saruman dissuaded us from open deeds against him, and
for
long we watched him only. Yet at last, as his shadow grew, Saruman yielded,
and the Council put forth its strength and drove the evil out of Mirkwood
and that was in the very year of the finding of this Ring: a strange chance,
if chance it was.
`But we were too late, as Elrond foresaw. Sauron also had watched us,
and had long prepared against our stroke, governing Mordor from afar through
Minas Morgul, where his Nine servants dwelt, until all was ready. Then he
gave way before us, but only feigned to flee, and soon after came to the
Dark Tower and openly declared himself. Then for the last time the Council
met; for now we learned that he was seeking ever more eagerly for the One.
We feared then that he had some news of it that we knew nothing of. But
Saruman said nay, and repeated what he had said to us before: that the One
would never again be found in Middle-earth.
` "At the worst," said he, "our Enemy knows that we have it not and
that it still is lost. But what was lost may yet be found, he thinks. Fear
not! His hope will cheat him. Have I not earnestly studied this matter? Into
Anduin the Great it fell; and long ago, while Sauron slept, it was rolled
down the River to the Sea. There let it lie until the End."'
Gandalf fell silent, gazing eastward from the porch to the far peaks of
the Misty Mountains, at whose great roots the peril of the world had so long
lain hidden. He sighed.
`There I was at fault,' he said. `I was lulled by the words of Saruman
the Wise; but I should have sought for the truth sooner, and our peril would
now be less.'
`We were all at fault,' said Elrond, `and but for your vigilance the
Darkness, maybe, would already be upon us. But say on!'
`From the first my heart misgave me, against all reason that I knew,'
said Gandalf, `and I desired to know how this thing came to Gollum, and how
long he had possessed it. So I set a watch for him, guessing that he would
ere long come forth from his darkness to seek for his treasure. He came, but
he escaped and was not found. And then alas! I let the matter rest, watching
and waiting only, as we have too often done.
`Time passed with many cares, until my doubts were awakened again to
sudden fear. Whence came the hobbit's ring? What, if my fear was true,
should be done with it? Those things I must decide. But I spoke yet of my
dread to none, knowing the peril of an untimely whisper, if it went astray.
In all the long wars with the Dark Tower treason has ever been our greatest
foe.
'That was seventeen years ago. Soon I became aware that spies of many
sorts, even beasts and birds, were gathered round the Shire, and my fear
grew. I called for the help of the D®nedain, and their watch was doubled;
and I opened my heart to Aragorn, the heir of Isildur.'
`And I,' said Aragorn, `counselled that we should hunt for Gollum. too
late though it may seem. And since it seemed fit that Isildur's heir should
labour to repair Isildur's fault, I went with Gandalf on the long and
hopeless search.'
Then Gandalf told how they had explored the whole length of Wilderland,
down even to the Mountains of Shadow and the fences of Mordor. `There we
had
rumour of him, and we guess that he dwelt there long in the dark hills; but
we never found him, and at last I despaired. And then in my despair I
thought again of a test that might make the finding of Gollum unneeded. The
ring itself might tell if it were the One. The memory of words at the
Council came back to me: words of Saruman, half-heeded at the time. I heard
them now clearly in my heart.
` "The Nine, the Seven, and the Three," he said, "had each their proper
gem. Not so the One. It was round and unadorned, as it were one of the
lesser rings; but its maker set marks upon it that the skilled, maybe, could
still see and read."
`What those marks were he had not said. Who now would know? The
maker.
And Saruman? But great though his lore may be, it must have a source. What
hand save Sauron's ever held this thing, ere it was lost? The hand of
Isildur alone.
`With that thought, I forsook the chase, and passed swiftly to Gondor.
In former days the members of my order had been well received there, but
Saruman most of all. Often he had been for long the guest of the Lords of
the City. Less welcome did the Lord Denethor show me then than of old, and
grudgingly he permitted me to search among his hoarded scrolls and books.
' "If indeed you look only, as you say, for records of ancient days,
and the beginnings of the City, read on! " he said. "For to me what was is
less dark than what is to come, and that is my care. But unless you have
more skill even than Saruman, who has studied here long, you will find
naught that is not well known to me, who am master of the lore of this
City."
`So said Denethor. And yet there lie in his hoards many records that
few now can read, even of the lore-masters, for their scripts and tongues
have become dark to later men. And Boromir, there lies in Minas Tirith
still, unread, I guess, by any save Saruman and myself since the kings
failed, a scroll that Isildur made himself. For Isildur did not march away
straight from the war in Mordor, as some have told the tale.'
'Some in the North, maybe,' Boromir broke in. 'All know in Gondor that
he went first to Minas Anor and dwelt a while with his nephew Meneldil,
instructing him, before he committed to him the rule of the South Kingdom.
In that time he planted there the last sapling of the White Tree in memory
of his brother.'
`But in that time also he made this scroll,' said Gandalf; `and that is
not remembered in Gondor, it would seem. For this scroll concerns the Ring,
and thus wrote Isildur therein:
The Great Ring shall go now to be an heirloom of the North Kingdom; but
records of it shall be left in Gondor, where also dwell the heirs of
Elendil, lest a time come when the memory of these great matters shall grow
dim.
`And after these words Isildur described the Ring, such as he found it.
It was hot when I first took it, hot as a glede, and my hand was
scorched, so that I doubt if ever again I shall be free of the pain of it.
Yet even as I write it is cooled, and it seemeth to shrink, though it loseth
neither its beauty nor its shape. Already the writing upon it, which at
first was as clear as red flame, fadeth and is now only barely to be read.
It is fashioned in an elven-script of Eregion, for they have no letters in
Mordor for such subtle work; but the language is unknown to me. I deem it to
be a tongue of the Black Land, since it is foul and uncouth. What evil it
saith I do not know; but I trace here a copy of it, lest it fade beyond
recall. The Ring misseth, maybe, the heat of Sauron's hand, which was black
and yet burned like fire, and so Gil-galad was destroyed; and maybe were the
gold made hot again, the writing would be refreshed. gut for my part I will
risk no hurt to this thing: of all the works of Sauron the only fair. It is
precious to me, though I buy it with great pain.
'When I read these words, my quest was ended. For the traced writing
was indeed as Isildur guessed, in the tongue of Mordor and the servants of
the Tower. And what was said therein was already known. For in the day that
Sauron first put on the One, Celebrimbor, maker of the Three, was aware of
him, and from afar he heard him speak these words, and so his evil purposes
were revealed.
`At once I took my leave of Denethor, but even as I went northwards,
messages came to me out of Lurien that Aragorn had passed that way, and that
he had found the creature called Gollum. Therefore I went first to meet him
and hear his tale. Into what deadly perils he had gone alone I dared not
guess.'
`There is little need to tell of them,' said Aragorn. `If a man must
needs walk in sight of the Black Gate, or tread the deadly flowers of Morgul
Vale, then perils he will have. I, too, despaired at last, and I began my
homeward journey. And then, by fortune, I came suddenly on what I sought:
the marks of soft feet beside a muddy pool. But now the trail was fresh and
swift, and it led not to Mordor but away. Along the skirts of the Dead
Marshes I followed it, and then I had him. Lurking by a stagnant mere,
peering in the water as the dark eve fell, I caught him, Gollum. He was
covered with green slime. He will never love me, I fear; for he bit me, and
I was not gentle. Nothing more did I ever get from his mouth than the marks
of his teeth. I deemed it the worst part of all my journey, the road back,
watching him day and night, making him walk before me with a halter on his
neck, gagged, until he was tamed by lack of drink and food, driving him ever
towards Mirkwood. I brought him there at last and gave him to the Elves, for
we had agreed that this should be done; and I was glad to be rid of his
company, for he stank. For my part I hope never to look upon him again; but
Gandalf came and endured long speech with him.'
`Yes, long and weary,' said Gandalf, `but not without profit. For one
thing, the tale he told of his loss agreed with that which Bilbo has now
told openly for the first time; but that mattered little, since I had
already guessed it. But I learned then first that Gollum's ring came out of
the Great River nigh to the Gladden Fields. And I learned also that he had
possessed it long. Many lives of his small kind. The power of the ring had
lengthened his years far beyond their span; but that power only the Great
Rings wield.
`And if that is not proof enough, Galdor, there is the other test that
I spoke of. Upon this very ring which you have here seen held aloft, round
and unadorned, the letters that Isildur reported may still be read, if one
has the strength of will to set the golden thing in the fire a while. That I
have done, and this I have read:
Ash nazg durbatulyk, ush nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulyk agh
burzum-ishi krimpatul.'
The change in the wizard's voice was astounding. Suddenly it became
menacing, powerful, harsh as stone. A shadow seemed to pass over the high
sun, and the porch for a moment grew dark. All trembled, and the Elves
stopped their ears.
`Never before has any voice dared to utter the words of that tongue in
Imladris, Gandalf the Grey,' said Elrond, as the shadow passed and the
company breathed once more.
`And let us hope that none will ever speak it here again,' answered
Gandalf. `Nonetheless I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond. For if that
tongue is not soon to be heard in every corner of the West, then let all put
doubt aside that this thing is indeed what the Wise have declared: the
treasure of the Enemy, fraught with all his malice; and in it lies a great
part of his strength of old. Out of the Black Years come the words that the
Smiths of Eregion heard, and knew that they had been betrayed:
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring
them all and in the Darkness bind them.
`Know also, my friends, that I learned more yet from Gollum. He was
loth to speak and his tale was unclear, but it is beyond all doubt that he
went to Mordor, and there all that he knew was forced from him. Thus the
Enemy knows now that the One is found, that it was long in the Shire; and
since his servants have pursued it almost to our door, he soon will know,
already he may know, even as I speak, that we have it here.'
All sat silent for a while, until at length Boromir spoke. `He is a
small thing, you say, this Gollum? Small, but great in mischief. What became
of him? To what doom did you put him?'
'He is in prison, but no worse,' said Aragorn. `He had suffered much.
There is no doubt that he was tormented, and the fear of Sauron lies black
on his heart. Still I for one am glad that he is safely kept by the watchful
Elves of Mirkwood. His malice is great and gives him a strength hardly to be
believed in one so lean and withered. He could work much mischief still, if
he were free. And I do not doubt that he was allowed to leave Mordor on some
evil errand.'
`Alas! alas!' cried Legolas, and in his fair elvish face there was
great distress. `The tidings that I was sent to bring must now be told. They
are not good, but only here have I learned how evil they may seem to this
company. Smjagol, who is now called Gollum, has escaped.'
'Escaped?' cried Aragorn. 'That is ill news indeed. We shall all rue it
bitterly, I fear. How came the folk of Thranduil to fail in their trust?'
`Not through lack of watchfulness,' said Legolas; `but perhaps through
over-kindliness. And we fear that the prisoner had aid from others, and that
more is known of our doings than we could wish. We guarded this creature day
and night, at Gandalf's bidding, much though we wearied of the task. But
Gandalf bade us hope still for his cure, and we had not the heart to keep
him ever in dungeons under the earth, where he would fall back into his old
black thoughts.'
'You were less tender to me,' said Gluin with a flash of his eyes as
old memories were stirred of his imprisonment in the deep places of the
Elven-king's halls.
'Now come!' said Gandalf. `Pray do not interrupt, my good Gluin. That
was a regrettable misunderstanding, long set right. If all the grievances
that stand between Elves and Dwarves are to be brought up here, we may as
well abandon this Council.'
Gluin rose and bowed, and Legolas continued. 'In the days of fair
weather we led Gollum through the woods; and there was a high tree standing
alone far from the others which he liked to climb. Often we let him mount up
to the highest branches, until he felt the free wind; but we set a guard at
the tree's foot. One day he refused to come down, and the guards had no mind
to climb after him: he had learned the trick of clinging to boughs with his
feet as well as with his hands; so they sat by the tree far into the night.
'It was that very night of summer, yet moonless and starless, that Orcs
came on us at unawares. We drove them off after some time; they were many
and fierce, but they came from over the mountains, and were unused to the
woods. When the battle was over, we found that Gollum was gone, and his
guards were slain or taken. It then seemed plain to us that the attack had
been made for his rescue, and that he knew of it beforehand. How that was
contrived we cannot guess; but Gollum is cunning, and the spies of the Enemy
are many. The dark things that were driven out in the year of the Dragon's
fall have returned in greater numbers, and Mirkwood is again an evil place,
save where our realm is maintained.
`We have failed to recapture Gollum. We came on his trail among those
of many Orcs, and it plunged deep into the Forest, going south. But ere long
it escaped our skill, and we dared not continue the hunt; for we were
drawing nigh to Dol Guldur, and that is still a very evil place; we do not
go that way.'
`Well, well, he is gone,' said Gandalf. 'We have no time to seek for
him again. He must do what he will. But he may play a part yet that neither
he nor Sauron have foreseen.
'And now I will answer Galdor's other questions. What of Saruman? What
are his counsels to us in this need? This tale I must tell in full, for only
Elrond has heard it yet, and that in brief, but it will bear on all that we
must resolve. It is the last chapter in the Tale of the Ring, so far as it
has yet gone.
'At the end of June I was in the Shire, but a cloud of anxiety was on
my mind, and I rode to the southern borders of the little land; for I had a
foreboding of some danger, still hidden from me but drawing near. There
messages reached me telling me of war and defeat in Gondor, and when I heard
of the Black Shadow a chill smote my heart. But I found nothing save a few
fugitives from the South; yet it seemed to me that on them sat a fear of
which they would not speak. I turned then east and north and journeyed along
the Greenway; and not far from Bree I came upon a traveller sitting on a
bank beside the road with his grazing horse beside him. It was Radagast the
Brown, who at one time dwelt at Rhosgobel, near the borders of Mirkwood.
He
is one of my order, but I had not seen him for many a year.
` "Gandalf! " he cried. "I was seeking you. But I am a stranger in
these parts. All I knew was that you might be found in a wild region with
the uncouth name of Shire."
' "Your information was correct," I said. "But do not put it that way,
if you meet any of the inhabitants. You are near the borders of the Shire
now. And what do you want with me? It must be pressing. You were never a
traveller, unless driven by great need."
' "I have an urgent errand," he said. "My news is evil." Then he looked
about him, as if the hedges might have ears. "Nazgyl," he whispered. "The
Nine are abroad again. They have crossed the River secretly and are moving
westward. They have taken the guise of riders in black."
'I knew then what I had dreaded without knowing it.
` "The enemy must have some great need or purpose," said Radagast; "but
what it is that makes him look to these distant and desolate parts, I cannot
guess."
` "What do you mean? " said I.
` "I have been told that wherever they go the Riders ask for news of a
land called Shire."
' "The Shire," I said; but my heart sank. For even the Wise might fear
to withstand the Nine, when they are gathered together under their fell
chieftain. A great king and sorcerer he was of old, and now he wields a
deadly fear. "Who told you, and who sent you? " I asked.
' "Saruman the White," answered Radagast. "And he told me to say that
if you feel the need, he will help; but you must seek his aid at once, or it
will be too late."
'And that message brought me hope. For Saruman the White is the
greatest of my order. Radagast is, of course, a worthy Wizard, a master of
shapes and changes of hue; and he has much lore of herbs and beasts, and
birds are especially his friends. But Saruman has long studied the arts of
the Enemy himself, and thus we have often been able to forestall him. It was
by the devices of Saruman that we drove him from Dol Guldur. It might be
that he had found some weapons that would drive back the Nine.
' "I will go to Saruman," I said.
' "Then you must go now," said Radagast; "for I have wasted time in
looking for you, and the days are running short. I was told to find you
before Midsummer, and that is now here. Even if you set out from this spot,
you will hardly reach him before the Nine discover the land that they seek.
I myself shall turn back at once." And with that he mounted and would have
ridden straight off.
` "Stay a moment! " I said. "We shall need your help, and the help of
all things that will give it. Send out messages to all the beasts and birds
that are your friends. Tell them to bring news of anything that bears on
this matter to Saruman and Gandalf. Let messages be sent to Orthanc."
` "I will do that," he said, and rode off as if the Nine were after
him.
`I could not follow him then and there. I had ridden very far already
that day, and I was as weary as my horse; and I needed to consider matters.
I stayed the night in Bree, and decided that I had no time to return to the
Shire. Never did I make a greater mistake!
`However, I wrote a message to Frodo, and trusted to my friend the
innkeeper to send it to him. I rode away at dawn; and I came at long last to
the dwelling of Saruman. That is far south in Isengard, in the end of the
Misty Mountains, not far from the Gap of Rohan. And Boromir will tell you
that that is a great open vale that lies between the Misty Mountains and the
northmost foothills of Ered Nimrais, the White Mountains of his home. But
Isengard is a circle of sheer rocks that enclose a valley as with a wall,
and in the midst of that valley is a tower of stone called Orthanc. It was
not made by Saruman, but by the Men of N®menor long ago; and it is very tall
and has many secrets; yet it looks not to be a work of craft. It cannot be
reached save by passing the circle of Isengard; and in that circle there is
only one gate.
'Late one evening I came to the gate, like a great arch in the wall of
rock; and it was strongly guarded. But the keepers of the gate were on the
watch for me and told me that Saruman awaited me. I rode under the arch, and
the gate closed silently behind me, and suddenly I was afraid, though I knew
no reason for it.
'But I rode to the foot of Orthanc, and came to the stair of Saruman
and there he met me and led me up to his high chamber. He wore a ring on his
finger.
` "So you have come, Gandalf," he said to me gravely; but in his eyes
there seemed to be a white light, as if a cold laughter was in his heart.
` "Yes, I have come," I said. "I have come for your aid, Saruman the
White." And that title seemed to anger him.
' "Have you indeed, Gandalf the Grey! " he scoffed. "For aid? It has
seldom been heard of that Gandalf the Grey sought for aid, one so cunning
and so wise, wandering about the lands, and concerning himself in every
business, whether it belongs to him or not."
'I looked at him and wondered. "But if I am not deceived," said I,
"things are now moving which will require the union of all our strength."
' "That may be so," he said, "but the thought is late in coming to you.
How long. I wonder, have you concealed from me, the head of the Council, a
matter of greatest import? What brings you now from your lurking-place in
the Shire? "
' "The Nine have come forth again," I answered. "They have crossed the
River. So Radagast said to me."
` "Radagast the Brown! " laughed Saruman, and he no longer concealed
his scorn. "Radagast the Bird-tamer! Radagast the Simple! Radagast the Fool!
Yet he had just the wit to play the part that I set him. For you have come,
and that was all the purpose of my message. And here you will stay, Gandalf
the Grey, and rest from journeys. For I am Saruman the Wise, Saruman
Ring-maker, Saruman of Many Colours! "
'I looked then and saw that his robes, which had seemed white, were not
so, but were woven of all colours. and if he moved they shimmered and
changed hue so that the eye was bewildered.
' "I liked white better," I said.
' "White! " he sneered. "It serves as a beginning. White cloth may be
dyed. The white page can be overwritten; and the white light can be broken."
' "In which case it is no longer white," said I. "And he that breaks a
thing to find out what it is has left the path of wisdom."
' "You need not speak to me as to one of the fools that you take for
friends," said he. "I have not brought you hither to be instructed by you,
but to give you a choice."
'He drew himself up then and began to declaim, as if he were making a
speech long rehearsed. "The Elder Days are gone. The Middle Days are
passing. The Younger Days are beginning. The time of the Elves is over, but
our time is at hand: the world of Men, which we must rule. But we must have
power, power to order all things as we will, for that good which only the
Wise can see.
' "And listen, Gandalf, my old friend and helper! " he said, coming
near and speaking now in a softer voice. "I said we, for we it may be, if
you will join with me. A new Power is rising. Against it the old allies and
policies will not avail us at all. There is no hope left in Elves or dying
N®menor. This then is one choice before you. before us. We may join with
that Power. It would be wise, Gandalf. There is hope that way. Its victory
is at hand; and there will be rich reward for those that aided it. As the
Power grows, its proved friends will also grow; and the Wise, such as you
and I, may with patience come at last to direct its courses, to control it.
We can bide our time, we can keep our thoughts in our hearts, deploring
maybe evils done by the way, but approving the high and ultimate purpose:
Knowledge, Rule, Order; all the things that we have so far striven in vain
to accomplish, hindered rather than helped by our weak or idle friends.
There need not be, there would not be, any real change in our designs, only
in our means."
' "Saruman," I said, "I have heard speeches of this kind before, but
only in the mouths of emissaries sent from Mordor to deceive the ignorant. I
cannot think that you brought me so far only to weary my ears."
'He looked at me sidelong, and paused a while considering. "Well, I see
that this wise course does not commend itself to you," he said. "Not yet?
Not if some better way can be contrived? "
`He came and laid his long hand on my arm. "And why not, Gandalf? " he
whispered. "Why not? The Ruling Ring? If we could command that, then the
Power would pass to us. That is in truth why I brought you here. For I have
many eyes in my service, and I believe that you know where this precious
thing now lies. Is it not so? Or why do the Nine ask for the Shire, and what
is your business there? " As he said this a lust which he could not conceal
shone suddenly in his eyes.
' "Saruman," I said, standing away from him, "only one hand at a time
can wield the One, and you know that well, so do not trouble to say we! But
I would not give it, nay, I would not give even news of it to you, now that
I learn your mind. You were head of the Council, but you have unmasked
yourself at last. Well, the choices are, it seems, to submit to Sauron, or
to yourself. I will take neither. Have you others to offer? "
'He was cold now and perilous. "Yes," he said. "I did not expect you to
show wisdom, even in your own behalf; but I gave you the chance of aiding me
willingly. and so saving yourself much trouble and pain. The third choice is
to stay here, until the end."
' "Until what end? "
' "Until you reveal to me where the One may be found. I may find means
to persuade you. Or until it is found in your despite, and the Ruler has
time to turn to lighter matters: to devise, say, a fitting reward for the
hindrance and insolence of Gandalf the Grey."
' "That may not prove to be one of the lighter matters," said I. He
laughed at me, for my words were empty, and he knew it.
`They took me and they set me alone on the pinnacle of Orthanc, in the
place where Saruman was accustomed to watch the stars. There is no descent
save by a narrow stair of many thousand steps, and the valley below seems
far away. I looked on it and saw that, whereas it had once been green and
fair, it was now filled with pits and forges. Wolves and orcs were housed in
Isengard, for Saruman was mustering a great force on his own account, in
rivalry of Sauron and not in his service yet. Over all his works a dark
smoke hung and wrapped itself about the sides of Orthanc. I stood alone on
an island in the clouds; and I had no chance of escape, and my days were
bitter. I was pierced with cold, and I had but little room in which to pace
to and fro, brooding on the coming of the Riders to the North.
`That the Nine had indeed arisen I felt assured, apart from the words
of Saruman which might be lies. Long ere I came to Isengard I had heard
tidings by the way that could not be mistaken. Fear was ever in my heart for
my friends in the Shire; but still I had some hope. I hoped that Frodo had
set forth at once, as my letter had urged, and that he had reached Rivendell
before the deadly pursuit began. And both my fear and my hope proved
ill-founded. For my hope was founded on a fat man in Bree; and my fear was
founded on the cunning of Sauron. But fat men who sell ale have many calls
to answer; and the power of Sauron is still less than fear makes it. But in
the circle of Isengard, trapped and alone, it was not easy to think that the
hunters before whom all have fled or fallen would falter in the Shire far
away.'
`I saw you!' cried Frodo. `You were walking backwards and forwards. The
moon shone in your hair.'
Gandalf paused astonished and looked at him. 'It was only a dream' said
Frodo, `but it suddenly came back to me. I had quite forgotten it. It came
some time ago; after I left the Shire, I think.'
`Then it was late in coming,' said Gandalf, 'as you will see. I was in
an evil plight. And those who know me will agree that I have seldom been in
such need, and do not bear such misfortune well. Gandalf the Grey caught
like a fly in a spider's treacherous web! Yet even the most subtle spiders
may leave a weak thread.
`At first I feared, as Saruman no doubt intended, that Radagast had
also fallen. Yet I had caught no hint of anything wrong in his voice or in
his eye at our meeting. If I had, I should never have gone to Isengard, or I
should have gone more warily. So Saruman guessed, and he had concealed his
mind and deceived his messenger. It would have been useless in any case to
try and win over the honest Radagast to treachery. He sought me in good
faith, and so persuaded me.
`That was the undoing of Saruman's plot. For Radagast knew no reason
why he should not do as I asked; and he rode away towards Mirkwood where
he
had many friends of old. And the Eagles of the Mountains went far and wide,
and they saw many things: the gathering of wolves and the mustering of Orcs;
and the Nine Riders going hither and thither in the lands; and they heard
news of the escape of Gollum. And they sent a messenger to bring these
tidings to me.
`So it was that when summer waned, there came a night of moon, and
Gwaihir the Windlord, swiftest of the Great Eagles, came unlooked-for to
Orthanc; and he found me standing on the pinnacle. Then I spoke to him and
he bore me away, before Saruman was aware. I was far from Isengard, ere the
wolves and orcs issued from the gate to pursue me.
` "How far can you bear me? " I said to Gwaihir.
` "Many leagues," said he, "but not to the ends of the earth. I was
sent to bear tidings not burdens."
` "Then I must have a steed on land," I said, "and a steed surpassingly
swift, for I have never had such need of haste before."
` "Then I will bear you to Edoras, where the Lord of Rohan sits in his
halls," he said; "for that is not very far off." And I was glad, for in the
Riddermark of Rohan the Rohirrim, the Horse-lords, dwell, and there are no
horses like those that are bred in that great vale between the Misty
Mountains and the White.
` "Are the Men of Rohan still to be trusted, do you think? " I said to
Gwaihir, for the treason of Saruman had shaken my faith.
` "They pay a tribute of horses," he answered, "and send many yearly to
Mordor, or so it is said; but they are not yet under the yoke. But if
Saruman has become evil, as you say, then their doom cannot be long
delayed."
`He set me down in the land of Rohan ere dawn; and now I have
lengthened my tale over long. The rest must be more brief. In Rohan I found
evil already at work: the lies of Saruman; and the king of the land would
not listen to my warnings. He bade me take a horse and be gone; and I chose
one much to my liking. but little to his. I took the best horse in his land,
and I have never seen the like of him.'
'Then he must be a noble beast indeed,' said Aragorn; 'and it grieves
me more than many tidings that might seem worse to learn that Sauron levies
such tribute. It was not so when last I was in that land.'
`Nor is it now, I will swear,' said Boromir. `It is a lie that comes
from the Enemy. I know the Men of Rohan; true and valiant, our allies,
dwelling still in the lands that we gave them long ago.'
`The shadow of Mordor lies on distant lands,' answered Aragorn.
'Saruman has fallen under it. Rohan is beset. Who knows what you will find
there, if ever you return?'
`Not this at least.' said Boromir, 'that they will buy their lives with
horses. They love their horses next to their kin. And not without reason,
for the horses of the Riddermark come from the fields of the North, far from
the Shadow. and their race, as that of their masters, is descended from the
free days of old.'
'True indeed!' said Gandalf. `And there is one among them that might
have been foaled in the morning of the world. The horses of the Nine cannot
vie with him; tireless, swift as the flowing wind. Shadowfax they called
him. By day his coat glistens like silver; and by night it is like a shade,
and he passes unseen. Light is his footfall! Never before had any man
mounted him, but I took him and I tamed him, and so speedily he bore me that
I reached the Shire when Frodo was on the Barrow-downs, though I set out
from Rohan only when he set out from Hobbiton.
'But fear grew in me as I rode. Ever as I came north I heard tidings of
the Riders, and though I gained on them day by day, they were ever before
me. They had divided their forces, I learned: some remained on the eastern
borders, not far from the Greenway. and some invaded the Shire from the
south. I came to Hobbiton and Frodo had gone; but I had words with old
Gamgee. Many words and few to the point. He had much to say about the
shortcomings of the new owners of Bag End.
` "I can't abide changes," said he, "not at my time of life, and least
of all changes for the worst." "Changes for the worst," he repeated many
times.
' "Worst is a bad word," I said to him, "and I hope you do not live to
see it." But amidst his talk I gathered at last that Frodo had left Hobbiton
less than a week before, and that a black horseman had come to the Hill the
same evening. Then I rode on in fear. I came to Buckland and found it in
uproar, as busy as a hive of ants that has been stirred with a stick. I came
to the house at Crickhollow, and it was broken open and empty; but on the
threshold there lay a cloak that had been Frodo's. Then for a while hope
left me, and I did not wait to gather news, or I might have been comforted;
but I rode on the trail of the Riders. It was hard to follow, for it went
many ways, and I was at a loss. But it seemed to me that one or two had
ridden towards Bree; and that way I went, for I thought of words that might
be said to the innkeeper.
' "Butterbur they call him," thought I. "If this delay was his fault, I
will melt all the butter in him. I will roast the old fool over a slow
fire." He expected no less, and when he saw my face he fell down flat and
began to melt on the spot.'
`What did you do to him?' cried Frodo in alarm. 'He was really very
kind to us and did all that he could.'
Gandalf laughed. 'Don't be afraid!' he said. `I did not bite, and I
barked very little. So overjoyed was I by the news that I got out of him,
when he stopped quaking, that I embraced the old fellow. How it happened I
could not then guess, but I learned that you had been in Bree the night
before, and had gone off that morning with Strider.
` "Strider! " I cried, shouting for joy.
` "Yes, sir, I am afraid so, sir," said Butterbur, mistaking me. "He
got at them, in spite of all that I could do, and they took up with him.
They behaved very queer all the time they were here: wilful, you might say."
` "Ass! Fool! Thrice worthy and beloved Barliman! " said I. "It's the
best news I have had since midsummer: it's worth a gold piece at the least.
May your beer be laid under an enchantment of surpassing excellence for
seven years! " said I. "Now I can take a night's rest, the first since I
have forgotten when."
`So I stayed there that night, wondering much what had become of the
Riders; for only of two had there yet been any news in Bree, it seemed. But
in the night we heard more. Five at least came from the west, and they threw
down the gates and passed through Bree like a howling wind; and the
Bree-folk are still shivering and expecting the end of the world. I got up
before dawn and went after them.
'I do not know, but it seems clear to me that this is what happened.
Their Captain remained in secret away south of Bree, while two rode ahead
through the village, and four more invaded the Shire. But when these were
foiled in Bree and at Crickhollow, they returned to their Captain with
tidings, and so left the Road unguarded for a while, except by their spies.
The Captain then sent some eastward straight across country, and he himself
with the rest rode along the Road in great wrath.
'I galloped to Weathertop like a gale, and I reached it before sundown
on my second day from Bree-and they were there before me. They drew
away
from me, for they felt the coming of my anger and they dared not face it
while the Sun was in the sky. But they closed round at night, and I was
besieged on the hill-top, in the old ring of Amon Syl. I was hard put to it
indeed: such light and flame cannot have been seen on Weathertop since the
war-beacons of old.
`At sunrise I escaped and fled towards the north. I could not hope to
do more. It was impossible to find you, Frodo, in the wilderness, and it
would have been folly to try with all the Nine at my heels. So I had to
trust to Aragorn. But I hoped to draw some of them off, and yet reach
Rivendell ahead of you and send out help. Four Riders did indeed follow me,
but they turned back after a while and made for the Ford, it seems. That
helped a little, for there were only five, not nine, when your camp was
attacked.
'I reached here at last by a long hard road, up the Hoarwell and
through the Ettenmoors, and down from the north. It took me nearly fourteen
days from Weathertop, for I could not ride among the rocks of the
troll-fells, and Shadowfax departed. I sent him back to his master; but a
great friendship has grown between us, and if I have need he will come at my
call. But so it was that I came to Rivendell only three days before the
Ring, and news of its peril had already been brought here-which proved well
indeed.
`And that, Frodo, is the end of my account. May Elrond and the others
forgive the length of it. But such a thing has not happened before, that
Gandalf broke tryst and did not come when he promised. An account to the
Ring-bearer of so strange an event was required, I think.
'Well, the Tale is now told, from first to last. Here we all are, and
here is the Ring. But we have not yet come any nearer to our purpose. What
shall we do with it?'
There was silence. At last Elrond spoke again.
`This is grievous news concerning Saruman,' he said; `for we trusted
him and he is deep in all our counsels. It is perilous to study too deeply
the arts of the Enemy, for good or for ill. But such falls and betrayals,
alas, have happened before. Of the tales that we have heard this day the
tale of Frodo was most strange to me. I have known few hobbits, save Bilbo
here; and it seems to me that he is perhaps not so alone and singular as I
had thought him. The world has changed much since I last was on the
westward
roads.
`The Barrow-wights we know by many names; and of the Old Forest
many
tales have been told: all that now remains is but an outlier of its northern
march. Time was when a squirrel could go from tree to tree from what is now
the Shire to Dunland west of Isengard. In those lands I journeyed once, and
many things wild and strange I knew. But I had forgotten Bombadil, if indeed
this is still the same that walked the woods and hills long ago, and even
then was older than the old. That was not then his name. Iarwain Ben-adar we
called him, oldest and fatherless. But many another name he has since been
given by other folk: Forn by the Dwarves, Orald by Northern Men, and other
names beside. He is a strange creature, but maybe I should have summoned
him
to our Council.'
`He would not have come,' said Gandalf.
`Could we not still send messages to him and obtain his help?' asked
Erestor. `It seems that he has a power even over the Ring.'
`No, I should not put it so,' said Gandalf. `Say rather that the Ring
has no power over him. He is his own master. But he cannot alter the Ring
itself, nor break its power over others. And now he is withdrawn into a
little land, within bounds that he has set, though none can see them,
waiting perhaps for a change of days, and he will not step beyond them.'
`But within those bounds nothing seems to dismay him,' said Erestor.
`Would he not take the Ring and keep it there, for ever harmless?'
`No,' said Gandalf, `not willingly. He might do so, if all the free
folk of the world begged him, but he would not understand the need. And if
he were given the Ring, he would soon forget it, or most likely throw it
away. Such things have no hold on his mind. He would be a most unsafe
guardian; and that alone is answer enough.'
`But in any case,' said Glorfindel, `to send the Ring to him would only
postpone the day of evil. He is far away. We could not now take it back to
him, unguessed, unmarked by any spy. And even if we could, soon or late the
Lord of the Rings would learn of its hiding place and would bend all his
power towards it. Could that power be defied by Bombadil alone? I think not.
I think that in the end, if all else is conquered, Bombadil will fall, Last
as he was First; and then Night will come.'
`I know little of Iarwain save the name,' said Galdor; `but Glorfindel,
I think, is right. Power to defy our Enemy is not in him, unless such power
is in the earth itself. And yet we see that Sauron can torture and destroy
the very hills. What power still remains lies with us, here in Imladris, or
with Cirdan at the Havens, or in Lurien. But have they the strength, have we
here the strength to withstand the Enemy, the coming of Sauron at the last,
when all else is overthrown?'
`I have not the strength,' said Elrond; `neither have they.'
`Then if the Ring cannot be kept from him for ever by strength' said
Glorfindel, `two things only remain for us to attempt: to send it over the
Sea, or to destroy it.'
`But Gandalf has revealed to us that we cannot destroy it by any craft
that we here possess,' said Elrond. `And they who dwell beyond the Sea would
not receive it: for good or ill it belongs to Middle-earth; it is for us who
still dwell here to deal with it.'
'Then, said Glorfindel, 'let us cast it into the deeps, and so make the
lies of Saruman come true. For it is clear now that even at the Council his
feet were already on a crooked path. He knew that the Ring was not lost for
ever, but wished us to think so; for he began to lust for it for himself.
Yet oft in lies truth is hidden: in the Sea it would be safe.'
`Not safe for ever,' said Gandalf. `There are many things in the deep
waters; and seas and lands may change. And it is not our part here to take
thought only for a season, or for a few lives of Men, or for a passing age
of the world. We should seek a final end of this menace, even if we do not
hope to make one.'
'And that we shall not find on the roads to the Sea,' said Galdor. 'If
the return to Iarwain be thought too dangerous, then flight to the S‚a is
now fraught with gravest peril. My heart tells me that Sauron will expect us
to take the western way, when he learns what has befallen. He soon will. The
Nine have been unhorsed indeed but that is but a respite, ere they find new
steeds and swifter. Only the waning might of Gondor stands now between him
and a march in power along the coasts into the North; and if he comes,
assailing the White Towers and the Havens, hereafter the Elves may have no
escape from the lengthening shadows of Middle-earth.'
'Long yet will that march be delayed,' said Boromir. 'Gondor wanes, you
say. But Gondor stands, and even the end of its strength is still very
strong.'
'And yet its vigilance can no longer keep back the Nine,' said Galdor.
'And other roads he may find that Gondor does not guard.'
'Then,' said Erestor, `there are but two courses, as Glorfindel already
has declared: to hide the Ring for ever; or to unmake it. But both are
beyond our power. Who will read this riddle for us?'
'None here can do so,' said Elrond gravely. `At least none can foretell
what will come to pass, if we take this road or that. But it seems to me now
clear which is the road that we must take. The westward road seems easiest.
Therefore it must be shunned. It will be watched. Too often the Elves have
fled that way. Now at this last we must take a hard road, a road unforeseen.
There lies our hope, if hope it be. To walk into peril-to Mordor. We must
send the Ring to the Fire.'
Silence fell again. Frodo, even in that fair house, looking out upon a
sunlit valley filled with the noise of clear waters, felt a dead darkness in
his heart. Boromir stirred, and Frodo looked at him. He was fingering his
great horn and frowning. At length he spoke.
'I do not understand all this,' he said. `Saruman is a traitor, but did
he not have a glimpse of wisdom? Why do you speak ever of hiding and
destroying? Why should we not think that the Great Ring has come into our
hands to serve us in the very hour of need? Wielding it the Free Lords of
the Free may surely defeat the Enemy. That is what he most fears, I deem.
'The Men of Gondor are valiant, and they will never submit; but they
may be beaten down. Valour needs first strength, and then a weapon. Let the
Ring be your weapon, if it has such power as you say. Take it and go forth
to victory!'
'Alas, no,' said Elrond. 'We cannot use the Ruling Ring. That we now
know too well. It belongs to Sauron and was made by him alone, and is
altogether evil. Its strength, Boromir, is too great for anyone to wield at
will, save only those who have already a great power of their own. But for
them it holds an even deadlier peril. The very desire of it corrupts the
heart. Consider Saruman. If any of the Wise should with this Ring overthrow
the Lord of Mordor, using his own arts, he would then set himself on
Sauron's throne, and yet another Dark Lord would appear. And that is another
reason why the Ring should be destroyed: as long as it is in the world it
will be a danger even to the Wise. For nothing is evil in the beginning.
Even Sauron was not so. I fear to take the Ring to hide it. I will not take
the Ring to wield it.'
`Nor I,' said Gandalf.
Boromir looked at them doubtfully, but he bowed his head. `So be it,'
he said. `Then in Gondor we must trust to such weapons as we have. And at
the least, while the Wise ones guard this Ring, we will fight on. Mayhap the
Sword-that-was-Broken may still stem the tide -- if the hand that wields it
has inherited not an heirloom only, but the sinews of the Kings of Men.'
`Who can tell?' said Aragorn. `But we will put it to the test one day.'
`May the day not be too long delayed,' said Boromir. 'For though I do
not ask for aid, we need it. It would comfort us to know that others fought
also with all the means that they have.'
`Then be comforted,' said Elrond. `For there are other powers and
realms that you know not, and they are hidden from you. Anduin the Great
flows past many shores, ere it comes to Argonath and the Gates of Gondor.'
'Still it might be well for all,' said Gluin the Dwarf, 'if all these
strengths were joined, and the powers of each were used in league. Other
rings there may be, less treacherous, that might be used in our need. The
Seven are lost to us -- if Balin has not found the ring of Thrur which was
the last; naught has been heard of it since Thrur perished in Moria. Indeed
I may now reveal that it was partly in hope to find that ring that Balin
went away.'
`Balin will find no ring in Moria,' said Gandalf. `Thrur gave it to
Thrbin his son, but not Thrbin to Thorin. It was taken with torment from
Thrbin in the dungeons of Dol Guldur. I came too late.'
'Ah, alas!' cried Gluin. 'When will the day come of our revenge? But
still there are the Three. What of the Three Rings of the Elves? Very mighty
Rings, it is said. Do not the Elf-lords keep them? Yet they too were made by
the Dark Lord long ago. Are they idle? I see Elf-lords here. Will they not
say?'
The Elves returned no answer. `Did you not hear me, Gluin?' said
Elrond. `The Three were not made by Sauron, nor did he ever touch them. But
of them it is not permitted to speak. So much only in this' hour of doubt I
may now say. They are not idle. But they were not made as weapons of war or
conquest: that is not their power. Those who made them did not desire
strength or domination or hoarded wealth, but understanding, making, and
healing, to preserve all things unstained. These things the Elves of
Middle-earth have in some measure gained, though with sorrow. But all that
has been wrought by those who wield the Three will turn to their undoing,
and their minds and hearts will become revealed to Sauron, if he regains the
One. It would be better if the Three had never been. That is his purpose.'
`But what then would happen, if the Ruling Ring were destroyed as you
counsel?' asked Gluin.
'We know not for certain,' answered Elrond sadly. `Some hope that the
Three Rings, which Sauron has never touched, would then become free, and
their rulers might heal the hurts of the world that he has wrought. But
maybe when the One has gone, the Three will fail, and many fair things will
fade and be forgotten. That is my belief.'
`Yet all the Elves are willing to endure this chance,' said Glorfindel
'if by it the power of Sauron may be broken, and the fear of his dominion be
taken away for ever.'
'Thus we return once more to the destroying of the Ring,' said Erestor,
`and yet we come no nearer. What strength have we for the finding of the
Fire in which it was made? That is the path of despair. Of folly I would
say, if the long wisdom of Elrond did not forbid me.'
'Despair, or folly?' said Gandalf. `It is not despair, for despair is
only for those who see the end beyond all doubt. We do not. It is wisdom to
recognize necessity, when all other courses have been weighed, though as
folly it may appear to those who cling to false hope. Well, let folly be our
cloak, a veil before the eyes of the Enemy! For he is very wise, and weighs
all things to a nicety in the scales of his malice. But the only measure
that he knows is desire, desire for power; and so he judges all hearts. Into
his heart the thought will not enter that any will refuse it, that having
the Ring we may seek to destroy it. If we seek this, we shall put him out of
reckoning.'
'At least for a while,' said Elrond. `The road must be trod, but it
will be very hard. And neither strength nor wisdom will carry us far upon
it. This quest may be attempted by the weak with as much hope as the strong.
Yet such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small
hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere.'
'Very well, very well, Master Elrond!' said Bilbo suddenly. 'Say no
more! It is plain enough what you are pointing at. Bilbo the silly hobbit
started this affair, and Bilbo had better finish it, or himself. I was very
comfortable here, and getting on with my book. If you want to know, I am
just writing an ending for it. I had thought of putting: and he lived
happily ever afterwards to the end of his days. It is a good ending, and
none the worse for having been used before. Now I shall have to alter that:
it does not look like coming true; and anyway there will evidently have to
be several more chapters, if I live to write them. It is a frightful
nuisance. When ought I to start?
' Boromir looked in surprise at Bilbo, but the laughter died on his
lips when he saw that all the others regarded the old hobbit with grave
respect. Only Gluin smiled, but his smile came from old memories.
`Of course, my dear Bilbo,' said Gandalf. `If you had really started
this affair, you might be expected to finish it. But you know well enough
now that starting is too great a claim for any, and that only a small part
is played in great deeds by any hero. You need not bow! Though the word was
meant, and we do not doubt that under jest you are making a valiant offer.
But one beyond your strength, Bilbo. You cannot take this thing back. It has
passed on. If you need my advice any longer, I should say that your part is
ended, unless as a recorder. Finish your book, and leave the ending
unaltered! There is still hope for it. But get ready to write a sequel, when
they come back.'
Bilbo laughed. `I have never known you give me pleasant advice before.'
he said. `As all your unpleasant advice has been good, I wonder if this
advice is not bad. Still, I don't suppose I have the strength or luck left
to deal with the Ring. It has grown, and I have not. But tell me: what do
you mean by they?'
`The messengers who are sent with the Ring.'
`Exactly! And who are they to be? That seems to me what this Council
has to decide, and all that it has to decide. Elves may thrive on speech
alone, and Dwarves endure great weariness; but I am only an old hobbit, and
I miss my meal at noon. Can't you think of some names now? Or put it off
till after dinner?'
No one answered. The noon-bell rang. Still no one spoke. Frodo glanced
at all the faces, but they were not turned to him. All the Council sat with
downcast eyes, as if in deep thought. A great dread fell on him, as if he
was awaiting the pronouncement of some doom that he had long foreseen and
vainly hoped might after all never be spoken. An overwhelming longing to
rest and remain at peace by Bilbo's side in Rivendell filled all his heart.
At last with an effort he spoke, and wondered to hear his own words, as if
some other will was using his small voice.
`I will take the Ring,' he said, `though I do not know the way.'
Elrond raised his eyes and looked at him, and Frodo felt his heart
pierced by the sudden keenness of the glance. `If I understand aright all
that I have heard,' he said, `I think that this task is appointed for you,
Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no one will. This is the hour of
the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers
and counsels of the Great. Who of all the Wise could have foreseen it? Or,
if they are wise, why should they expect to know it, until the hour has
struck?
`But it is a heavy burden. So heavy that none could lay it on another.
I do not lay it on you. But if you take it freely, I will say that your
choice is right; and though all the mighty elf-friends of old, Hador, and
H®rin, and T®rin, and Beren himself were assembled together your seat
should
be among them.'
`But you won't send him off alone surely, Master?' cried Sam, unable to
contain himself any longer, and jumping up from the corner where he had been
quietly sitting on the floor.
`No indeed!' said Elrond, turning towards him with a smile. `You at
least shall go with him. It is hardly possible to separate you from him,
even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not.'
Sam sat down, blushing and muttering. `A nice pickle we have landed
ourselves in, Mr. Frodo!' he said, shaking his head.
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The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 10 - Strider (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 15 - The Ring Goes South (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 20 - The Great River (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 21 - The Breaking of the Fellowship (1)


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Showing posts with label The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym. Show all posts
Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym
The Company of the Ring stood silent beside the tomb of Balin. Frodo
thought of Bilbo and his long friendship with the dwarf, and of Balin's
visit to the Shire long ago. In that dusty chamber in the mountains it
seemed a thousand years ago and on the other side of the world.
At length they stirred and looked up, and began to search for anything
that would give them tidings of Balin's fate, or show what had become of his
folk. There was another smaller door on the other side of the chamber, under
the shaft. By both the doors they could now see that many bones were lying,
and among them were broken swords and axe-heads, and cloven shields and
helms. Some of the swords were crooked: orc-scimitars with blackened blades.
There were many recesses cut in the rock of the walls, and in them were
large iron-bound chests of wood. All had been broken and plundered; but
beside the shattered lid of one there lay the remains of a book. It had been
slashed and stabbed and partly burned, and it was so stained with black and
other dark marks like old blood that little of it could be read. Gandalf
lifted it carefully, but the leaves crackled and broke as he laid it on the
slab. He pored over it for some time without speaking. Frodo and Gimli
standing at his side could see, as he gingerly turned the leaves, that they
were written by many different hands, in runes, both of Moria and of Dale,
and here and there in Elvish script.
At last Gandalf looked up. 'It seems to be a record of the fortunes of
Balin's folk,' he said. `I guess that it began with their coming to Dimrill
Dale nigh on thirty years ago: the pages seem to have numbers referring to
the years after their arrival. The top page is marked one -- three, so at
least two are missing from the beginning. Listen to this!
'We drove out orcs from the great gate and guard -- I think; the next
word is blurred and burned; probably room -- we slew many in the bright -- I
think -- sun in the dale. Flui was killed by an arrow. He slew the great.
Then there is a blur followed by Flui under grass near Mirror mere. The next
line or two I cannot read. Then comes We have taken the twentyfirst hall of
North end to dwell in. There is I cannot read what. A shaft is mentioned.
Then Balin has set up his seat in the Chamber of Mazarbul.'
'The Chamber of Records,' said Gimli. `I guess that is where we now
stand.'
`Well, I can read no more for a long way,' said Gandalf, 'except the
word gold, and Durin's Axe and something helm. Then Balin is now lord of
Moria. That seems to end a chapter. After some stars another hand begins,
and I can see we found truesilver, and later the word wellforged and then
something, I have it! mithril; and the last two lines Uin to seek for the
upper armouries of Third Deep, something go westwards, a blur, to Hollin
gate.'
Gandalf paused and set a few leaves aside. 'There are several pages of
the same sort, rather hastily written and much damaged, he said; `but I can
make little of them in this light. Now there must be a number of leaves
missing, because they begin to be numbered five, the fifth year of the
colony, I suppose. Let me see! No, they are too cut and stained; I cannot
read them. We might do better in the sunlight. Wait! Here is something: a
large bold hand using an Elvish script.'
'That would be Ori's hand,' said Gimli, looking over the wizard's arm.
`He could write well and speedily, and often used the Elvish characters.'
`I fear he had ill tidings to record in a fair hand,' said Gandalf.
'The first clear word is sorrow, but the rest of the line is lost, unless it
ends in estre. Yes, it must be yestre followed by day being the tenth of
novembre Balin lord of Moria fell in Dimrill Dale. He went alone to look in
Mirror mere. an orc shot him from behind a stone. we slew the orc, hut many
more ... up from east up the Silverlode. The remainder of the page is so
blurred that I can hardly make anything out, but I think I can read we have
barred the gates, and then can hold them long if, and then perhaps horrible
and suffer. Poor Balin! He seems to have kept the title that he took for
less than five years. I wonder what happened afterwards; but there is no
time to puzzle out the last few pages. Here is the last page of all.' He
paused and sighed.
`It is grim reading,' he said. 'I fear their end was cruel. Listen! We
cannot get out. We cannot get out. They have taken the Bridge and second
hall. Frbr and Luni and Nbli fell there. Then there are four lines smeared
so that I can only read went 5 days ago. The last lines run the pool is up
to the wall at Westgate. The Watcher in the Water took Uin. We cannot get
out. The end comes, and then drums, drums in the deep. I wonder what that
means. The last thing written is in a trailing scrawl of elf-letters: they
are coming. There is nothing more.' Gandalf paused and stood in silent
thought.
A sudden dread and a horror of the chamber fell on the Company. `We
cannot get out,' muttered Gimli. 'It was well for us that the pool had sunk
a little, and that the Watcher was sleeping down at the southern end.'
Gandalf raised his head and looked round. `They seem to have made a
last stand by both doors,' he said; 'but there were not many left by that
time. So ended the attempt to retake Moria! It was valiant but foolish. The
time is not come yet. Now, I fear, we must say farewell to Balin son of
Fundin. Here he must lie in the halls of his fathers. We will take this
book, the Book of Mazarbul, and look at it more closely later. You had
better keep it, Gimli, and take it back to Dbin, if you get a chance. It
will interest him, though it will grieve him deeply. Come, let us go! The
morning is passing.'
'Which way shall we go? ' asked Boromir.
'Back to the hall,' answered Gandalf. 'But our visit to this room has
not been in vain. I now know where we are. This must be, as Gimli says, the
Chamber of Mazarbul; and the hall must be the twenty-first of the North-end.
Therefore we should leave by the eastern arch of the hall, and bear right
and south, and go downwards. The Twenty-first Hall should be on the Seventh
Level, that is six above the level of the Gates. Come now! Back to the hall!
'
Gandalf had hardly spoken these words, when there came a great noise: a
rolling Boom that seemed to come from depths far below, and to tremble in
the stone at their feet. They sprang towards the door in alarm. Doom, doom
it rolled again, as if huge hands were turning the very caverns of Moria
into a vast drum. Then there came an echoing blast: a great horn was blown
in the hall, and answering horns and harsh cries were heard further off.
There was a hurrying sound of many feet.
`They are coming! ' cried Legolas.
'We cannot get out,' said Gimli.
`Trapped! ' cried Gandalf. `Why did I delay? Here we are, caught, just
as they were before. But I was not here then. We will see what ----'
Doom, doom came the drum-beat and the walls shook.
'Slam the doors and wedge them! ' shouted Aragorn. 'And keep your packs
on as long as you can: we may get a chance to cut our way out yet.'
`No! ' said Gandalf. 'We must not get shut in. Keep the east door ajar!
We will go that way, if we get a chance.'
Another harsh horn-call and shrill cries rang out. Feet were coming
down the corridor. There was a ring and clatter as the Company drew their
swords. Glamdring shone with a pale light, and Sting glinted at the edges.
Boromir set his shoulder against the western door.
`Wait a moment! Do not close it yet! ' said Gandalf. He sprang forward
to Boromir's side and drew himself up to his full height.
'Who comes hither to disturb the rest of Balin Lord of Moria? ' he
cried in a loud voice.
There was a rush of hoarse laughter, like the fall of sliding stones
into a pit; amid the clamour a deep voice was raised in command. Doom,
boom,
doom went the drums in the deep.
With a quick movement Gandalf stepped before the narrow opening of the
door and thrust forward his staff: There was a dazzling flash that lit the
chamber and the passage outside. For an instant the wizard looked out.
Arrows whined and whistled down the corridor as he sprang back.
'There are Orcs, very many of them,' he said. `And some are large and
evil: black Uruks of Mordor. For the moment they are hanging back, but there
is something else there. A great cave-troll, I think, or more than one.
There is no hope of escape that way.'
'And no hope at all, if they come at the other door as well,' said
Boromir.
'There is no sound outside here yet,' said Aragorn, who was standing by
the eastern door listening. `The passage on this side plunges straight down
a stair: it plainly does not lead back towards the hall. But it is no good
flying blindly this way with the pursuit just behind. We cannot block the
door. Its key is gone and the lock is broken, and it opens inwards. We must
do something to delay the enemy first. We will make them fear the Chamber of
Mazarbul!' he said grimly feeling the edge of his sword, And®ril.
Heavy feet were heard in the corridor. Boromir flung himself against
the door and heaved it to; then he wedged it with broken sword-blades and
splinters of wood. The Company retreated to the other side of the chamber.
But they had no chance to fly yet. There was a blow on the door that made it
quiver; and then it began to grind slowly open, driving back the wedges. A
huge arm and shoulder, with a dark skin of greenish scales, was thrust
through the widening gap. Then a great, flat, toeless foot was forced
through below. There was a dead silence outside.
Boromir leaped forward and hewed at the arm with all his might; but his
sword rang, glanced aside, and fell from his shaken hand. The blade was
notched.
Suddenly, and to his own surprise, Frodo felt a hot wrath blaze up in
his heart. `The Shire! ' he cried, and springing beside Boromir, he stooped,
and stabbed with Sting at the hideous foot. There was a bellow, and the foot
jerked back, nearly wrenching Sting from Frodo's arm. Black drops dripped
from the blade and smoked on the floor. Boromir hurled himself against the
door and slammed it again.
`One for the Shire! ' cried Aragorn. `The hobbit's bite is deep! You
have a good blade, Frodo son of Drogo! '
There was a crash on the door, followed by crash after crash. Rams and
hammers were beating against it. It cracked and staggered back, and the
opening grew suddenly wide. Arrows came whistling in, but struck the
northern wall, and fell harmlessly to the floor. There was a horn-blast and
a rush of feet, and orcs one after another leaped into the chamber.
How many there were the Company could not count. The affray was sharp,
but the orcs were dismayed by the fierceness of the defence. Legolas shot
two through the throat. Gimli hewed the legs from under another that had
sprung up on Balin's tomb. Boromir and Aragorn slew many. When thirteen
had
fallen the rest fled shrieking. leaving the defenders unharmed, except for
Sam who had a scratch along the scalp. A quick duck had saved him; and he
had felled his orc: a sturdy thrust with his Barrow-blade. A fire was
smouldering in his brown eyes that would have made Ted Sandyman step
backwards, if he had seen it.
`Now is the time! ' cried Gandalf. `Let us go, before the troll
returns!'
But even as they retreated, and before Pippin and Merry had reached the
stair outside, a huge orc-chieftain, almost man-high, clad in black mail
from head to foot, leaped into the chamber; behind him his followers
clustered in the doorway. His broad flat face was swart, his eyes were like
coals, and his tongue was red; he wielded a great spear. With a thrust of
his huge hide shield he turned Boromir's sword and bore him backwards,
throwing him to the ground. Diving under Aragorn's blow with the speed of a
striking snake he charged into the Company and thrust with his spear
straight at Frodo. The blow caught him on the right side, and Frodo was
hurled against the wall and pinned. Sam, with a cry, hacked at the
spear-shaft, and it broke. But even as the orc flung down the truncheon and
swept out his scimitar, And®ril came down upon his helm. There was a flash
like flame and the helm burst asunder. The orc fell with cloven head. His
followers fled howling, as Boromir and Aragorn sprang at them.
Doom, doom went the drums in the deep. The great voice rolled out
again.
'Now! ' shouted Gandalf. 'Now is the last chance. Run for it! '
Aragorn picked up Frodo where he lay by the wall and made for the
stair, pushing Merry and Pippin in front of him. The others followed; but
Gimli had to be dragged away by Legolas: in spite of the peril he lingered
by Balin's tomb with his head bowed. Boromir hauled the eastern door to,
grinding upon its hinges: it had great iron rings on either side, but could
not be fastened.
'I am all right,' gasped Frodo. `I can walk. Put me down! '
Aragorn nearly dropped him in his amazement. 'I thought you were dead!
' he cried.
'Not yet! ' said Gandalf. 'But there is time for wonder. Off you go,
all of you, down the stairs! Wait a few minutes for me at the bottom, but if
I do not come soon, go on! Go quickly and choose paths leading right and
downwards.'
'We cannot leave you to hold the door alone! ' said Aragorn.
`Do as I say! ' said Gandalf fiercely. `Swords are no more use here.
Go!'
The passage was lit by no shaft and was utterly dark. They groped their
way down a long flight of steps, and then looked back; but they could see
nothing, except high above them the faint glimmer of the wizard's staff. He
seemed to be still standing on guard by the closed door. Frodo breathed
heavily and leaned against Sam, who put his arms about him. They stood
peering up the stairs into the darkness. Frodo thought he could hear the
voice of Gandalf above, muttering words that ran down the sloping roof with
a sighing echo. He could not catch what was said. The walls seemed to be
trembling. Every now and again the drum-beats throbbed and rolled: doom,
doom.
Suddenly at the top of the stair there was a stab of white light. Then
there was a dull rumble and a heavy thud. The drum-beats broke out wildly:
doom-boom, doom-boom, and then stopped. Gandalf came flying down the
steps
and fell to the ground in the midst of the Company.
`Well, well! That's over! ' said the wizard struggling to his feet. `I
have done all that I could. But I have met my match, and have nearly been
destroyed. But don't stand here! Go on! You will have to do without light
for a while: I am rather shaken. Go on! Go on! Where are you, Gimli? Come
ahead with me! Keep close behind, all of you!'
They stumbled after him wondering what had happened. Doom, doom
went
the drum-beats again: they now sounded muffled and far away, but they were
following. There was no other sound of pursuit, neither tramp of feet, nor
any voice. Gandalf took no turns, right or left, for the passage seemed to
be going in the direction that he desired. Every now and again it descended
a flight of steps, fifty or more, to a lower level. At the moment that was
their chief danger; for in the dark they could not see a descent, until they
came on it, and put their feet out into emptiness. Gandalf felt the ground
with his staff like a blind man.
At the end of an hour they had gone a mile, or maybe a little more, and
had descended many flights of stairs. There was still no sound of pursuit.
Almost they began to hope that they would escape. At the bottom of the
seventh flight Gandalf halted.
`It is getting hot! ' he gasped. `We ought to be down at least to the
level of the Gates now. Soon I think we should look for a left-hand turn to
take us east. I hope it is not far. I am very weary. I must rest here a
moment, even if all the orcs ever spawned are after us.'
Gimli took his arm and helped him down to a seat on the step. `What
happened away up there at the door? ' he asked. `Did you meet the beater of
the drums? '
'I do not know,' answered Gandalf. `But I found myself suddenly faced
by something that I have not met before. I could think of nothing to do but
to try and put a shutting-spell on the door. I know many; but to do things
of that kind rightly requires time, and even then the door can be broken by
strength.
`As I stood there I could hear orc-voices on the other side: at any
moment I thought they would burst it open. I could not hear what was said;
they seemed to be talking in their own hideous language. All I caught was
ghvsh; that is "fire". Then something came into the chamber -- I felt it
through the door, and the orcs themselves were afraid and fell silent. It
laid hold of the iron ring, and then it perceived me and my spell.
'What it was I cannot guess, but I have never felt such a challenge.
The counter-spell was terrible. It nearly broke me. For an instant the door
left my control and began to open! I had to speak a word of Command. That
proved too great a strain. The door burst in pieces. Something dark as a
cloud was blocking out all the light inside, and I was thrown backwards down
the stairs. All the wall gave way, and the roof of the chamber as well, I
think.
`I am afraid Balin is buried deep, and maybe something else is buried
there too. I cannot say. But at least the passage behind us was completely
blocked. Ah! I have never felt so spent, but it is passing. And now what
about you, Frodo? There was not time to say so, but I have never been more
delighted in my life than when you spoke. I feared that it was a brave but
dead hobbit that Aragorn was carrying.'
`What about me? ' said Frodo. 'I am alive, and whole I think. I am
bruised and in pain, but it is not too bad.'
`Well,' said Aragorn, `I can only say that hobbits are made of a stuff
so tough that I have never met the like of it. Had I known, I would have
spoken softer in the Inn at Bree! That spear-thrust would have skewered a
wild boar! '
'Well, it did not skewer me, I am glad to say,' said Frodo; `though I
feel as if I had been caught between a hammer and an anvil.' He said no
more. He found breathing painful.
'You take after Bilbo,' said Gandalf. `There is more about you than
meets the eye, as I said of him long ago.' Frodo wondered if the remark
meant more than it said.
They now went on again. Before long Gimli spoke. He had keen eyes in
the dark. `I think,' he said, `that there is a light ahead. But it is not
daylight. It is red. What can it be? '
`Ghvsh!' muttered Gandalf. `I wonder if that is what they meant: that
the lower levels are on fire? Still, we can only go on.'
Soon the light became unmistakable, and could be seen by all. It was
flickering and glowing on the walls away down the passage before them. They
could now see their way: in front the road sloped down swiftly, and some way
ahead there stood a low archway; through it the glowing light came. The air
became very hot.
When they came to the arch Gandalf went through, signing to them to
wait. As he stood just beyond the opening they saw his face lit by a red
glow. Quickly he stepped back.
`There is some new devilry here,' he said, 'devised for our welcome no
doubt. But I know now where we are: we have reached the First Deep, the
level immediately below the Gates. This is the Second Hall of Old Moria; and
the Gates are near: away beyond the eastern end, on the left, not more than
a quarter of a mile. Across the Bridge, up a broad stair, along a wide road
through the First Hall, and out! But come and look! '
They peered out. Before them was another cavernous hall. It was loftier
and far longer than the one in which they had slept. They were near its
eastern end; westward it ran away into darkness. Down the centre stalked a
double line of towering pillars. They were carved like boles of mighty trees
whose boughs upheld the roof with a branching tracery of stone. Their stems
were smooth and black, but a red glow was darkly mirrored in their sides.
Right across the floor, close to the feet of two huge pillars a great
fissure had opened. Out of it a fierce red light came, and now and again
flames licked at the brink and curled about the bases of the columns. Wisps
of dark smoke wavered in the hot air.
'If we had come by the main road down from the upper halls, we should
have been trapped here,' said Gandalf. `Let us hope that the fire now lies
between us and pursuit. Come! There is no time to lose.'
Even as he spoke they heard again the pursuing drum-beat: Doom, doom,
doom. Away beyond the shadows at the western end of the hall there came
cries and horn-calls. Doom, doom: the pillars seemed to tremble and the
flames to quiver.
`Now for the last race! ' said Gandalf. 'If the sun is shining outside
we may still escape. After me! '
He turned left and sped across the smooth floor of the hall. The
distance was greater than it had looked. As they ran they heard the beat and
echo of many hurrying feet behind. A shrill yell went up: they had been
seen. There was a ring and clash of steel. An arrow whistled over Frodo's
head.
Boromir laughed. `They did not expect this,' he said. `The fire has cut
them off. We are on the wrong side! '
`Look ahead! ' called Gandalf. `The Bridge is near. It is dangerous and
narrow.'
Suddenly Frodo saw before him a black chasm. At the end of the hall the
floor vanished and fell to an unknown depth. The outer door could only be
reached by a slender bridge of stone, without kerb or rail, that spanned the
chasm with one curving spring of fifty feet. It was an ancient defence of
the Dwarves against any enemy that might capture the First Hall and the
outer passages. They could only pass across it in single file. At the brink
Gandalf halted and the others came up in a pack behind.
'Lead the way, Gimli! ' he said. 'Pippin and Merry next. Straight on
and up the stair beyond the door! '
Arrows fell among them. One struck Frodo and sprang back. Another
pierced Gandalf's hat and stuck there like a black feather. Frodo looked
behind. Beyond the fire he saw swarming black figures: there seemed to be
hundreds of orcs. They brandished spears and scimitars which shone red as
blood in the firelight. Doom, doom rolled the drum-beats, growing louder and
louder, doom, doom.
Legolas turned and set an arrow to the string, though it was a long
shot for his small bow. He drew, but his hand fell, and the arrow slipped to
the ground. He gave a cry of dismay and fear. Two great trolls appeared;
they bore great slabs of stone, and flung them down to serve as gangways
over the fire. But it was not the trolls that had filled the Elf with
terror. The ranks of the orcs had opened, and they crowded away, as if they
themselves were afraid. Something was coming up behind them. What it was
could not be seen: it was like a great shadow, in the middle of which was a
dark form, of man-shape maybe, yet greater; and a power and terror seemed to
be in it and to go before it.
It came to the edge of the fire and the light faded as if a cloud had
bent over it. Then with a rush it leaped across the fissure. The flames
roared up to greet it, and wreathed about it; and a black smoke swirled in
the air. Its streaming mane kindled, and blazed behind it. In its right hand
was a blade like a stabbing tongue of fire; in its left it held a whip of
many thongs.
'Ai! ai! ' wailed Legolas. 'A Balrog! A Balrog is come! '
Gimli stared with wide eyes. `Durin's Bane! ' he cried, and letting his
axe fall he covered his face.
'A Balrog,' muttered Gandalf. `Now I understand.' He faltered and
leaned heavily on his staff. `What an evil fortune! And I am already weary.'
The dark figure streaming with fire raced towards them. The orcs yelled
and poured over the stone gangways. Then Boromir raised his horn and blew.
Loud the challenge rang and bellowed, like the shout of many throats under
the cavernous roof. For a moment the orcs quailed and the fiery shadow
halted. Then the echoes died as suddenly as a flame blown out by a dark
wind, and the enemy advanced again.
'Over the bridge!' cried Gandalf, recalling his strength. `Fly! This is
a foe beyond any of you. I must hold the narrow way. Fly! ' Aragorn and
Boromir did not heed the command, but still held their ground, side by side,
behind Gandalf at the far end of the bridge. The others halted just within
the doorway at the hall's end, and turned, unable to leave their leader to
face the enemy alone.
The Balrog reached the bridge. Gandalf stood in the middle of the span,
leaning on the staff in his left hand, but in his other hand Glamdring
gleamed, cold and white. His enemy halted again, facing him, and the shadow
about it reached out like two vast wings. It raised the whip, and the thongs
whined and cracked. Fire came from its nostrils. But Gandalf stood firm.
`You cannot pass,' he said. The orcs stood still, and a dead silence
fell. `I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You
cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udyn. Go back to the
Shadow! You cannot pass.'
The Balrog made no answer. The fire in it seemed to die, but the
darkness grew. It stepped forward slowly on to the bridge, and suddenly it
drew itself up to a great height, and its wings were spread from wall to
wall; but still Gandalf could be seen, glimmering in the gloom; he seemed
small, and altogether alone: grey and bent, like a wizened tree before the
onset of a storm.
From out of the shadow a red sword leaped flaming.
Glamdring glittered white in answer.
There was a ringing clash and a stab of white fire. The Balrog fell
back and its sword flew up in molten fragments. The wizard swayed on the
bridge, stepped back a pace, and then again stood still.
'You cannot pass! ' he said.
With a bound the Balrog leaped full upon the bridge. Its whip whirled
and hissed.
'He cannot stand alone! ' cried Aragorn suddenly and ran back along the
bridge. 'Elendil!' he shouted. 'I am with you, Gandalf! '
`Gondor! ' cried Boromir and leaped after him.
At that moment Gandalf lifted his staff, and crying aloud he smote the
bridge before him. The staff broke asunder and fell from his hand. A
blinding sheet of white flame sprang up. The bridge cracked. Right at the
Balrog's feet it broke, and the stone upon which it stood crashed into the
gulf, while the rest remained, poised, quivering like a tongue of rock
thrust out into emptiness.
With a terrible cry the Balrog fell forward, and its shadow plunged
down and vanished. But even as it fell it swung its whip, and the thongs
lashed and curled about the wizard's knees, dragging him to the brink. He
staggered and fell, grasped vainly at the stone, and slid into the abyss.
'Fly, you fools! ' he cried, and was gone.
The fires went out, and blank darkness fell. The Company stood rooted
with horror staring into the pit. Even as Aragorn and Boromir came flying
back, the rest of the bridge cracked and fell. With a cry Aragorn roused
them.
'Come! I will lead you now! ' he called. 'We must obey his last
command. Follow me! '
They stumbled wildly up the great stairs beyond the door. Aragorn
leading, Boromir at the rear. At the top was a wide echoing passage. Along
this they fled. Frodo heard Sam at his side weeping, and then he found that
he himself was weeping as he ran. Doom, doom, doom the drum-beats rolled
behind, mournful now and slow; doom!
They ran on. The light grew before them; great shafts pierced the roof.
They ran swifter. They passed into a hall, bright with daylight from its
high windows in the east. They fled across it. Through its huge broken doors
they passed, and suddenly before them the Great Gates opened, an arch of
blazing light.
There was a guard of orcs crouching in the shadows behind the great
door posts towering on either side, but the gates were shattered and cast
down. Aragorn smote to the ground the captain that stood in his path, and
the rest fled in terror of his wrath. The Company swept past them and took
no heed of them. Out of the Gates they ran and sprang down the huge and
age-worn steps, the threshold of Moria.
Thus, at last, they came beyond hope under the sky and felt the wind on
their faces.
They did not halt until they were out of bowshot from the walls.
Dimrill Dale lay about them. The shadow of the Misty Mountains lay upon it,
but eastwards there was a golden light on the land. It was but one hour
after noon. The sun was shining; the clouds were white and high.
They looked back. Dark yawned the archway of the Gates under the
mountain-shadow. Faint and far beneath the earth rolled the slow drum-beats:
doom. A thin black smoke trailed out. Nothing else was to be seen; the dale
all around was empty. Doom. Grief at last wholly overcame them, and they
wept long: some standing and silent, some cast upon the ground. Doom, doom.
The drum-beats faded.
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The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 10 - Strider (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 15 - The Ring Goes South (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 20 - The Great River (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 21 - The Breaking of the Fellowship (1)


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Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien
'Alas! I Fear we cannot stay here longer,' said Aragorn. He looked
towards the mountains and held up his sword. `Farewell, Gandalf! ' he cried.
'Did I not say to you: if you pass the doors of Moria, beware? Alas that I
spoke true! What hope have we without you? '
He turned to the Company. `We must do without hope,' he said. `At least
we may yet be avenged. Let us gird ourselves and weep no more! Come! We
have
a long road, and much to do.'
They rose and looked about them. Northward the dale ran up into a glen
of shadows between two great arms of the mountains, above which three white
peaks were shining: Celebdil, Fanuidhol, Caradhras. the Mountains of Moria.
At the head of the glen a torrent flowed like a white lace over an endless
ladder of short falls, and a mist of foam hung in the air about the
mountains' feet.
`Yonder is the Dimrill Stair,' said Aragorn, pointing to the falls.
'Down the deep-cloven way that climbs beside the torrent we should have
come, if fortune had been kinder.'
`Or Caradhras less cruel,' said Gimli. `There he stands smiling in the
sun! ' He shook his fist at the furthest of the snow-capped peaks and turned
away.
To the east the outflung arm of the mountains marched to a sudden end,
and far lands could be descried beyond them, wide and vague. To the south
the Misty Mountains receded endlessly as far as sight could reach. Less than
a mile away, and a little below them, for they still stood high up on the
west side of the dale, there lay a mere. It was long and oval, shaped like a
great spear-head thrust deep into the northern glen; but its southern end
was beyond the shadows under the sunlit sky. Yet its waters were dark: a
deep blue like clear evening sky seen from a lamp-lit room. Its face was
still and unruffled. About it lay a smooth sward, shelving down on all sides
to its bare unbroken rim.
`There lies the Mirrormere, deep Kheled-zvram! ' said Gimli sadly. `I
remember that he said: "May you have joy of the sight! But we cannot linger
there." Now long shall I journey ere I have joy again. It is I that must
hasten away, and he that must remain.'
The Company now went down the road from the Gates. It was rough and
broken, fading to a winding track between heather and whin that thrust amid
the cracking stones. But still it could be seen that once long ago a great
paved way had wound upwards from the lowlands of the Dwarf-kingdom.
In
places there were ruined works of stone beside the path, and mounds of green
topped with slender birches, or fir-trees sighing in the wind. An eastward
bend led them hard by the sward of Mirrormere, and there not far from the
roadside stood a single column broken at the top.
'That is Durin's Stone! ' cried Gimli. `I cannot pass without turning
aside for a moment to look at the wonder of the dale! '
`Be swift then! ' said Aragorn, looking back towards the Gates. `The
Sun sinks early. The Orcs will not, maybe, come out till after dusk, but we
must be far away before nightfall. The Moon is almost spent, and it will be
dark tonight.'
'Come with me, Frodo! ' cried the dwarf, springing from the road. `I
would not have you go without seeing Kheled-zvram.' He ran down the long
green slope. Frodo followed slowly, drawn by the still blue water in spite
of hurt and weariness; Sam came up behind.
Beside the standing stone Gimli halted and looked up. It was cracked
and weather-worn, and the faint runes upon its side could not be read. `This
pillar marks the spot where Durin first looked in the Mirrormere,' said the
dwarf. 'Let us look ourselves once, ere we go!'
They stooped over the dark water. At first they could see nothing. Then
slowly they saw the forms of the encircling mountains mirrored in a profound
blue, and the peaks were like plumes of white flame above them; beyond there
was a space of sky. There like jewels sunk in the deep shone glinting stars,
though sunlight was in the sky above. Of their own stooping forms no shadow
could be seen.
'O Kheled-zvram fair and wonderful! ' said Gimli. `There lies the Crown
of Durin till he wakes. Farewell! ' He bowed, and turned away, and hastened
back up the green-sward to the road again.
`What did you see? ' said Pippin to Sam, but Sam was too deep in
thought to answer.
The road now turned south and went quickly downwards, running out from
between the arms of the dale. Some way below the mere they came on a deep
well of water, clear as crystal, from which a freshet fell over a stone lip
and ran glistening and gurgling down a steep rocky channel.
'Here is the spring from which the Silverlode rises.' said Gimli. `Do
not drink of it! It is icy cold.'
'Soon it becomes a swift river, and it gathers water from many other
mountain-streams,' said Aragorn. `Our road leads beside it for many miles.
For I shall take you by the road that Gandalf chose, and first I hope to
come to the woods where the Silverlode flows into the Great River-out
yonder.' They looked as he pointed, and before them they could see the
stream leaping down to the trough of the valley, and then running on and
away into the lower lands, until it was lost in a golden haze.
`There lie the woods of Lothlurien! ' said Legolas. `That is the
fairest of all the dwellings of my people. There are no trees like the trees
of that land. For in the autumn their leaves fall not, but turn to gold. Not
till the spring comes and the new green opens do they fall, and then the
boughs are laden with yellow flowers; and the floor of the wood is golden,
and golden is the roof, and its pillars are of silver, for the bark of the
trees is smooth and grey. So still our songs in Mirkwood say. My heart would
be glad if I were beneath the eaves of that wood, and it were springtime! '
`My heart will be glad, even in the winter,' said Aragorn. 'But it lies
many miles away. Let us hasten! '
For some time Frodo and Sam managed to keep up with the others; but
Aragorn was leading them at a great pace, and after a while they lagged
behind. They had eaten nothing since the early morning. Sam's cut was
burning like fire, and his head felt light. In spite of the shining sun the
wind seemed chill after the warm darkness of Moria. He shivered. Frodo felt
every step more painful and he gasped for breath.
At last Legolas turned, and seeing them now far behind, he spoke to
Aragorn. The others halted, and Aragorn ran back, calling to Boromir to come
with him.
'I am sorry, Frodo! ' he cried, full of concern. `So much has happened
this day and we have such need of haste, that I have forgotten that you were
hurt; and Sam too. You should have spoken. We have done nothing to ease
you,
as we ought, though all the orcs of Moria were after us. Come now! A little
further on there is a place where we can rest for a little. There I will do
what I can for you. Come, Boromir! We will carry them.'
Soon afterwards they came upon another stream that ran down from the
west, and joined its bubbling water with the hurrying Silverlode. Together
they plunged over a fall of green-hued stone, and foamed down into a dell.
About it stood fir-trees, short and bent, and its sides were steep and
clothed with harts-tongue and shrubs of whortle-berry. At the bottom there
was a level space through which the stream flowed noisily over shining
pebbles. Here they rested. It was now nearly three hours after noon, and
they had come only a few miles from the Gates. Already the sun was
westering.
While Gimli and the two younger hobbits kindled a fire of brush- and
fir-wood, and drew water, Aragorn tended Sam and Frodo. Sam's wound was
not
deep, but it looked ugly, and Aragorn's face was grave as he examined it.
After a moment he looked up with relief.
'Good luck, Sam! ' he said. 'Many have received worse than this in
payment for the slaying of their first orc. The cut is not poisoned, as the
wounds of orc-blades too often are. It should heal well when I have tended
it. Bathe it when Gimli has heated water.'
He opened his pouch and drew out some withered leaves. `They are dry
and some of their virtue has one, he said, but here I have still some of the
leaves of athelas that I gathered near Weathertop. Crush one in the water,
and wash the wound clean, and I will bind it. Now it is your turn. Frodo! '
'I am all right,' said Frodo, reluctant to have his garments touched.
`AII I needed was some food and a little rest.'
`No! ' said Aragorn. `We must have a look and see what the hammer and
the anvil have done to you. I still marvel that you are alive at all.'
Gently he stripped off Frodo's old jacket and worn tunic, and gave a gasp of
wonder. Then he laughed. The silver corslet shimmered before his eyes like
the light upon a rippling sea. Carefully he took it off and held it up, and
the gems on it glittered like stars. and the sound of the shaken rings was
like the tinkle of rain in a pool.
`Look, my friends!' he called. `Here's a pretty hobbit-skin to wrap an
elven-princeling in! If it were known that hobbits had such hides, all the
hunters of Middle-earth would be riding to the Shire.'
`And all the arrows of all the hunters in the world would be in vain,'
said Gimli, gazing at the mail in wonder. `It is a mithril-coat. Mithril! I
have never seen or heard tell of one so fair. Is this the coat that Gandalf
spoke of? Then he undervalued it. But it was well given! '
`I have often wondered what you and Bilbo were doing, so close in his
little room,' said Merry. 'Bless the old hobbit! I love him more than ever.
I hope we get a chance of telling him about it! '
There was a dark and blackened bruise on Frodo's right side and breast.
Under the mail there was a shirt of soft leather, but at one point the rings
had been driven through it into the flesh. Frodo's left side also was scored
and bruised where he had been hurled against the wall. While the others set
the food ready. Aragorn bathed the hurts with water in which athelas was
steeped. The pungent fragrance filled the dell, and all those who stooped
over the steaming water felt refreshed and strengthened. Soon Frodo felt the
pain leave him, and his breath grew easy: though he was stiff and sore to
the touch for many days. Aragorn bound some soft pads of cloth at his side.
`The mail is marvellously light,' he said. `Put it on again, if you can
bear it. My heart is glad to know that you have such a coat. Do not lay it
aside, even in sleep, unless fortune brings you where you are safe for a
while; and that will seldom chance while your quest lasts.'
When they had eaten, the Company got ready to go on. They put out the
fire and hid all traces of it. Then climbing out of the dell they took to
the road again. They had not gone far before the sun sank behind the
westward heights and great shadows crept down the mountain-sides. Dusk
veiled their feet, and mist rose in the hollows. Away in the east the
evening light lay pale upon the dim lands of distant plain and wood. Sam and
Frodo now feeling eased and greatly refreshed were able to go at a fair
pace, and with only one brief halt Aragorn led the Company on for nearly
three more hours.
It was dark. Deep night had fallen. There were many clear stars, hut
the fast-waning moon would not be seen till late. Gimli and Frodo were at
the rear, walking softly and not speaking, listening for any sound upon the
road behind. At length Gimli broke the silence.
'Not a sound but the wind,' he said. `There are no goblins near, or my
ears are made of wood. It is to be hoped that the Orcs will be content with
driving us from Moria. And maybe that was all their purpose, and they had
nothing else to do with us-with the Ring. Though Orcs will often pursue foes
for many leagues into the plain, if they have a fallen captain to avenge.'
Frodo did not answer. He looked at Sting, and the blade was dull. Yet
he had heard something, or thought he had. As soon as the shadows had fallen
about them and the road behind was dim, he had heard again the quick patter
of feet. Even now he heard it. He turned swiftly. There were two tiny gleams
of light behind, or for a moment he thought he saw them, but at once they
slipped aside and vanished.
`What is it? ' said the dwarf.
`I don't know.' answered Frodo. 'I thought I heard feet, and I thought
I saw a light-like eyes. I have thought so often, since we first entered
Moria.'
Gimli halted and stooped to the ground. 'I hear nothing but the
night-speech of plant and stone,' he said. 'Come! Let us hurry! The others
are out of sight.'
The night-wind blew chill up the valley to meet them. Before them a
wide grey shadow loomed, and they heard an endless rustle of leaves like
poplars in the breeze.
`Lothlurien! ' cried Legolas. 'Lothlurien! We have come to the eaves of
the Golden Wood. Alas that it is winter! '
Under the night the trees stood tall before them, arched over the road
and stream that ran suddenly beneath their spreading boughs. In the dim
light of the stars their stems were grey, and their quivering leaves a hint
of fallow gold.
'Lothlurien! ' said Aragorn. 'Glad I am to hear again the wind in the
trees! We are still little more than five leagues from the Gates, but we can
go no further. Here let us hope that the virtue of the Elves will keep us
tonight from the peril that comes behind.'
`If Elves indeed still dwell here in the darkening world,' said Gimli.
'It is long since any of my own folk journeyed hither back to the land
whence we wandered in ages long ago,' said Legolas, 'but we hear that Lurien
is not yet deserted, for there is a secret power here that holds evil from
the land. Nevertheless its folk are seldom seen, and maybe they dwell now
deep in the woods and far from the northern border.'
'Indeed deep in the wood they dwell,' said Aragorn, and sighed as if
some memory stirred in him. `We must fend for ourselves tonight. We will go
forward a short way, until the trees are all about us, and then we will turn
aside from the path and seek a place to rest in.'
He stepped forward; but Boromir stood irresolute and did not follow.
'Is there no other way? ' he said.
`What other fairer way would you desire? ' said Aragorn.
`A plain road, though it led through a hedge of swords,' said Boromir.
`By strange paths has this Company been led, and so far to evil fortune.
Against my will we passed under the shades of Moria, to our loss. And now we
must enter the Golden Wood, you say. But of that perilous land we have heard
in Gondor, and it is said that few come out who once go in; and of that few
none have escaped unscathed.'
`Say not unscathed, but if you say unchanged, then maybe you will speak
the truth said Aragorn. But lore wanes in Gondor, Boromir, if in the city of
those who once were wise they now speak evil of Lothlurien. Believe what you
will, there is no other way for us -- unless you would go back to
Moria-gate, or scale the pathless mountains, or swim the Great River all
alone.'
`Then lead on! ' said Boromir. `But it is perilous.'
`Perilous indeed,' said Aragorn, 'fair and perilous; but only evil need
fear it, or those who bring some evil with them. Follow me! '
They had gone little more than a mile into the forest when they came
upon another stream flowing down swiftly from the tree-clad slopes that
climbed back westward towards the mountains. They heard it splashing over a
fall away among the shadows on their right. Its dark hurrying waters ran
across the path before them, and joined the Silverlode in a swirl of dim
pools among the roots of trees.
`Here is Nimrodel! ' said Legolas. 'Of this stream the Silvan Elves
made many songs long ago, and still we sing them in the North, remembering
the rainbow on its falls, and the golden flowers that floated in its foam.
All is dark now and the Bridge of Nimrodel is broken down. I will bathe my
feet, for it is said that the water is healing to the weary.' He went
forward and climbed down the deep-cloven bank and stepped into the stream.
`Follow me!' he cried. 'The water is not deep. Let us wade across! On
the further bank we can rest. and the sound of the falling water may bring
us sleep and forgetfulness of grief.'
One by one they climbed down and followed Legolas. For a moment Frodo
stood near the brink and let the water flow over his tired feet. It was cold
but its touch was clean, and as he went on and it mounted to his knees, he
felt that the stain of travel and all weariness was washed from his limbs.
When all the Company had crossed, they sat and rested and ate a little
food; and Legolas told them tales of Lothlurien that the Elves of Mirkwood
still kept in their hearts, of sunlight and starlight upon the meadows by
the Great River before the world was grey.
At length a silence fell, and they heard the music of the waterfall
running sweetly in the shadows. Almost Frodo fancied that he could hear a
voice singing, mingled with the sound of the water.
`Do you hear the voice of Nimrodel? ' asked Legolas. 'I will sing you a
song of the maiden Nimrodel, who bore the same name as the stream beside
which she lived lung ago. It is a fair song in our woodland tongue; but this
is how it runs in the Westron Speech, as some in Rivendell now sing it.' In
a soft voice hardly to be heard amid the rustle of the leaves above them he
began:
An Elven-maid there was of old,
A shining star by day:
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,
Her shoes of silver-grey.
A star was bound upon her brows,
A light was on her hair
As sun upon the golden boughs
In Lurien the fair.
Her hair was long, her limbs were white,
And fair she was and free;
And in the wind she went as light
As leaf of linden-tree.
Beside the falls of Nimrodel,
By water clear and cool,
Her voice as falling silver fell
Into the shining pool.
Where now she wanders none can tell,
In sunlight or in shade;
For lost of yore was Nimrodel
And in the mountains strayed.
The elven-ship in haven grey
Beneath the mountain-lee
Awaited her for many a day
Beside the roaring sea.
A wind by night in Northern lands
Arose, and loud it cried,
And drove the ship from elven-strands
Across the streaming tide.
When dawn came dim the land was lost,
The mountains sinking grey
Beyond the heaving waves that tossed
Their plumes of blinding spray.
Amroth beheld the fading shore
Now low beyond the swell,
And cursed the faithless ship that bore
Him far from Nimrodel.
Of old he was an Elven-king,
A lord of tree and glen,
When golden were the boughs in spring
In fair Lothlurien.
From helm to sea they saw him leap,
As arrow from the string,
And dive into the water deep,
As mew upon the wing.
The wind was in his flowing hair,
The foam about him shone;
Afar they saw him strong and fair
Go riding like a swan.
But from the West has come no word,
And on the Hither Shore
No tidings Elven-folk have heard
Of Amroth evermore.
The voice of Legolas faltered, and the song ceased. 'I cannot sing any
more,' he said. 'That is but a part, for I have forgotten much. It is long
and sad, for it tells how sorrow came upon Lothlurien, Lurien of the
Blossom, when the Dwarves awakened evil in the mountains.'
`But the Dwarves did not make the evil,' said Gimli.
`I said not so; yet evil came,' answered Legolas sadly. `Then many of
the Elves of Nimrodel's kindred left their dwellings and departed and she
was lost far in the South, in the passes of the White Mountains; and she
came not to the ship where Amroth her lover waited for her. But in the
spring when the wind is in the new leaves the echo of her voice may still be
heard by the falls that bear her name. And when the wind is in the South the
voice of Amroth comes up from the sea; for Nimrodel flows into Silverlode,
that Elves call Celebrant, and Celebrant into Anduin the Great. and Anduin
flows into the Bay of Belfalas whence the Elves of Lurien set sail. But
neither Nimrodel nor Amroth ever came back.
'It is told that she had a house built in the branches of a tree that
grew near the falls; for that was the custom of the Elves of Lurien, to
dwell in the trees, and maybe it is so still. Therefore they were called the
Galadhrim, the Tree-people. Deep in their forest the trees are very great.
The people of the woods did not delve in the ground like Dwarves, nor build
strong places of stone before the Shadow came.'
`And even in these latter days dwelling in the trees might be thought
safer than sitting on the ground,' said Gimli. He looked across the stream
to the road that led back to Dimrill Dale, and then up into the roof of dark
boughs above.
`Your words bring good counsel, Gimli,' said Aragorn. `We cannot build
a house, but tonight we will do as the Galadhrim and seek refuge in the
tree-tops, if we can. We have sat here beside the road already longer than
was wise.'
The Company now turned aside from the path, and went into the shadow of
the deeper woods, westward along the mountain-stream away from
Silverlode.
Not far from the falls of Nimrodel they found a cluster of trees, some of
which overhung the stream. Their great grey trunks were of mighty girth, but
their height could not be guessed.
`I will climb up,' said Legolas. `I am at home among trees, by root or
bough, though these trees are of a kind strange to me, save as a name in
song. Mellyrn they are called, and are those that bear the yellow blossom,
but I have never climbed in one. I will see now what is their shape and way
of growth.'
`Whatever it may be,' said Pippin, `they will be marvellous trees
indeed if they can offer any rest at night, except to birds. I cannot sleep
on a perch! '
'Then dig a hole in the ground,' said Legolas, `if that is more after
the fashion of your kind. But you must dig swift and deep, if you wish to
hide from Orcs.' He sprang lightly up from the ground and caught a branch
that grew from the trunk high above his head. But even as he swung there for
a moment, a voice spoke suddenly from the tree-shadows above him.
`Daro!' it said in commanding tone, and Legolas dropped back to earth
in surprise and fear. He shrank against the bole of the tree.
'Stand still! ' he whispered to the others. `Do not move or speak! '
There was a sound of soft laughter over their heads, and then another
clear voice spoke in an elven-tongue. Frodo could understand little of what
was said, for the speech that the Silvan folk east of the mountains used
among themselves was unlike that of the West. Legolas looked up and
answered
in the same language.*
`Who are they, and what do they say? ' asked Merry.
`They're Elves,' said Sam. `Can't you hear their voices? '
`Yes, they are Elves,' said Legolas; `and they say that you breathe so
loud that they could shoot you in the dark.' Sam hastily put his hand over
his mouth. 'But they say also that you need have no fear. They have been
aware of us for a long while. They heard my voice across the Nimrodel, and
knew that I was one of their Northern kindred, and therefore they did not
hinder our crossing; and afterwards they heard my song. Now they bid me
climb up with Frodo; for they seem to have had some tidings of him and of
our journey. The others they ask to wait a little and to keep watch at the
foot of the tree, until they have decided what is to be done.'
Out of the shadows a ladder was let down: it was made of rope,
silver-grey and glimmering in the dark, and though it looked slender it
proved strong enough to bear many men. Legolas ran lightly up, and Frodo
followed slowly; behind came Sam trying not to breathe loudly. The branches
of the mallorn-tree grew out nearly straight from the trunk, and then swept
upward; but near the top the main stem divided into a crown of many boughs,
and among these they found that there had been built a wooden platform, or
flet as such things were called in those days: the Elves called it a talan.
It was reached by a round hole in the centre through which the ladder
passed.
When Frodo came at last up on to the flet he found Legolas seated with
three other Elves. They were clad in shadowy-grey, and could not be seen
among the tree-stems, unless they moved suddenly. They stood up, and one of
them uncovered a small lamp that gave out a slender silver beam. He held it
up, looking at Frodo's face, and Sam's. Then he shut off the light again,
and spoke words of welcome in his elven-tongue. Frodo spoke haltingly in
return.
`Welcome!' the Elf then said again in the Common Language, speaking
slowly. 'We seldom use any tongue but our own; for we dwell now in the heart
of the forest, and do not willingly have dealings with any other folk. Even
our own kindred in the North are sundered from us. But there are some of us
still who go abroad for the gathering of news and the watching of our
enemies, and they speak the languages of other lands. I am one. Haldir is my
name. My brothers, R®mil and Orophin, speak little of your tongue.
`But we have heard rumours of your coming, for the messengers of Elrond
passed by Lurien on their way home up the Dimrill Stair. We had not heard of
hobbits, or halflings, for many a long year, and did not know that any yet
dwelt in Middle-earth. You do not look evil! And since you come with an Elf
of our kindred, we are willing to befriend you, as Elrond asked; though it
is not our custom to lead strangers through our land. But you must stay here
tonight. How many are you? '
`Eight,' said Legolas. `Myself, four hobbits; and two men, one of whom,
Aragorn, is an Elf-friend of the folk of Westernesse.'
`The name of Aragorn son of Arathorn is known in Lurien,' said Haldir,
`and he has the favour of the Lady. All then is well. But you have yet
spoken only of seven.'
`The eighth is a dwarf,' said Legolas.
`A dwarf! ' said Haldir. `That is not well. We have not had dealings
with the Dwarves since the Dark Days. They are not permitted in our land. I
cannot allow him to pass.'
`But he is from the Lonely Mountain, one of Dbin's trusty people, and
friendly to Elrond,' said Frodo. `Elrond himself chose him to be one of our
companions, and he has been brave and faithful.'
The Elves spoke together in soft voices, and questioned Legolas in
their own tongue. 'Very good,' said Haldir at last. `We will do this, though
it is against our liking. If Aragorn and Legolas will guard him, and answer
for him, he shall pass; but he must go blindfold through Lothlurien.
`But now we must debate no longer. Your folk must not remain on the
ground. We have been keeping watch on the rivers, ever since we saw a great
troop of Orcs going north toward Moria, along the skirts of the mountains,
many days ago. Wolves are howling on the wood's borders. If you have indeed
come from Moria, the peril cannot be far behind. Tomorrow early you must go
on.
'The four hobbits shall climb up here and stay with us-we do not fear
them! There is another talan in the next tree. There the others must take
refuge. You, Legolas, must answer to us for them. Call us, if anything is
amiss! And have an eye on that dwarf!'
Legolas at once went down the ladder to take Haldir's message; and soon
afterwards Merry and Pippin clambered up on to the high flet. They were out
of breath and seemed rather scared.
`There!' said Merry panting. `We have lugged up your blankets as well
as our own. Strider has hidden all the rest of the baggage in a deep drift
of leaves.'
`You had no need of your burdens,' said Haldir. `It is cold in the
tree-tops in winter, though the wind tonight is in the South; but we have
food and drink to give you that will drive away the night-chill, and we have
skins and cloaks to spare.'
The hobbits accepted this second (and far better) supper very gladly.
Then they wrapped themselves warmly, not only in the fur-cloaks of the
Elves, but in their own blankets as well, and tried to go to sleep. But
weary as they were only Sam found that easy to do. Hobbits do not like
heights, and do not sleep upstairs, even when they have any stairs. The flet
was not at all to their liking as a bedroom. It had no walls. not even a
rail; only on one side was there a light plaited screen, which could be
moved and fixed in different places according to the wind.
Pippin went on talking for a while. `I hope, if I do go to sleep in
this bed-loft, that I shan't roll off,' he said.
`Once I do get to sleep,' said Sam, 'i shall go on sleeping, whether I
roll off or no. And the less said, the sooner I'll drop off, if you take my
meaning.'
Frodo lay for some time awake, and looked up at the stars glinting
through the pale roof of quivering leaves. Sam was snoring at his side long
before he himself closed his eyes. He could dimly see the grey forms of two
elves sitting motionless with their arms about their knees, speaking in
whispers. The other had gone down to take up his watch on one of the lower
branches. At last lulled by the wind in the boughs above, and the sweet
murmur of the falls of Nimrodel below, Frodo fell asleep with the song of
Legolas running in his mind.
Late in the night he awoke. The other hobbits were asleep. The Elves
were gone. The sickle Moon was gleaming dimly among the leaves. The wind
was
still. A little way off he heard a harsh laugh and the tread of many feet on
the ground below. There was a ring of metal. The sounds died slowly away,
and seemed to go southward, on into the wood.
A head appeared suddenly through the hole in the flet. Frodo sat up in
alarm and saw that it was a grey-hooded Elf. He looked towards the hobbits.
`What is it? ' said Frodo.
`Yrch!' said the Elf in a hissing whisper, and cast on to the flet the
rope-ladder rolled up.
'Orcs! ' said Frodo. `What are they doing? ' But the Elf had gone.
There were no more sounds. Even the leaves were silent, and the very
falls seemed to be hushed. Frodo sat and shivered in his wraps. He was
thankful that they had not been caught on the ground; but he felt that the
trees offered little protection, except concealment. Orcs were as keen as
hounds on a scent, it was said, but they could also climb. He drew out
Sting: it flashed and glittered like a blue flame and then slowly faded
again and grew dull. In spite of the fading of his sword the feeling of
immediate danger did not leave Frodo, rather it grew stronger. He got up and
crawled to the opening and peered down. He was almost certain that he could
hear stealthy movements at the tree's foot far below.
Not Elves; for the woodland folk were altogether noiseless in their
movements. Then he heard faintly a sound like sniffing: and something seemed
to be scrabbling on the bark of the tree-trunk. He stared down into the
dark, holding his breath.
Something was now climbing slowly, and its breath came like a soft
hissing through closed teeth. Then coming up, close to the stem, Frodo saw
two pale eyes. They stopped and gazed upward unwinking. Suddenly they
turned
away, and a shadowy figure slipped round the trunk of the tree and vanished.
Immediately afterwards Haldir came climbing swiftly up through the
branches. `There was something in this tree that I have never seen before,'
he said. `It was not an orc. It fled as soon as I touched the tree-stem. It
seemed to be wary, and to have some skill in trees, or I might have thought
that it was one of you hobbits.
'I did not shoot, for I dared not arouse any cries: we cannot risk
battle. A strong company of Orcs has passed. They crossed the Nimrodel-curse
their foul feet in its clean water!-and went on down the old road beside the
river. They seemed to pick up some scent, and they searched the ground for a
while near the place where you halted. The three of us could not challenge a
hundred, so we went ahead and spoke with feigned voices, leading them on
into the wood.
`Orophin has now gone in haste back to our dwellings to warn our
people. None of the Orcs will ever return out of Lurien. And there will be
many Elves hidden on the northern border before another night falls. But you
must take the road south as soon as it is fully light.'
Day came pale from the East. As the light grew it filtered through the
yellow leaves of the mallorn, and it seemed to the hobbits that the early
sun of a cool summer's morning was shining. Pale-blue sky peeped among the
moving branches. Looking through an opening on the south side of the flet
Frodo saw all the valley of the Silverlode lying like a sea of fallow gold
tossing gently in the breeze.
The morning was still young and cold when the Company set out again,
guided now by Haldir and his brother R®mil. `Farewell, sweet Nimrodel! '
cried Legolas. Frodo looked back and caught a gleam of white foam among
the
grey tree-stems. `Farewell,' he said. It seemed to him that he would never
hear again a running water so beautiful, for ever blending its innumerable
notes in an endless changeful music.
They went back to the path that still went on along the west side of
the Silverlode, and for some way they followed it southward. There were the
prints of orc-feet in the earth. But soon Haldir turned aside into the trees
and halted on the bank of the river under their shadows.
`There is one of my people yonder across the stream,' he said `though
you may not see him.' He gave a call like the low whistle of a bird, and out
of a thicket of young trees an Elf stepped, clad in grey, but with his hood
thrown back; his hair glinted like gold in the morning sun. Haldir skilfully
cast over the stream a coil of grey rope, and he caught it and bound the end
about a tree near the bank.
`Celebrant is already a strong stream here, as you see,' said Haldir
'and it runs both swift and deep, and is very cold. We do not set foot in it
so far north, unless we must. But in these days of watchfulness we do not
make bridges. This is how we cross! Follow me!' He made his end of the rope
fast about another tree, and then ran lightly along it, over the river and
back again, as if he were on a road.
`I can walk this path,' said Legolas; `but the others have not this
skill. Must they swim?'
`No!' said Haldir. `We have two more ropes. We will fasten them above
the other, one shoulder-high, and another half-high, and holding these the
strangers should be able to cross with care.'
When this slender bridge had been made, the Company passed over, some
cautiously and slowly, others more easily. Of the hobbits Pippin proved the
best for he was sure-footed, and he walked over quickly, holding only with
one hand; but he kept his eyes on the bank ahead and did not look down. Sam
shuffled along, clutching hard, and looking down into the pale eddying water
as if it was a chasm in the mountains.
He breathed with relief when he was safely across. `Live and learn! as
my gaffer used to say. Though he was thinking of gardening, not of roosting
like a bird, nor of trying to walk like a spider. Not even my uncle Andy
ever did a trick like that! '
When at length all the Company was gathered on the east bank of the
Silverlode, the Elves untied the ropes and coiled two of them. R®mil, who
had remained on the other side, drew back the last one, slung it on his
shoulder, and with a wave of his hand went away, back to Nimrodel to keep
watch.
`Now, friends,' said Haldir, `you have entered the Naith of Lurien or
the Gore, as you would say, for it is the land that lies like a spear-head
between the arms of Silverlode and Anduin the Great. We allow no strangers
to spy out the secrets of the Naith. Few indeed are permitted even to set
foot there.
`As was agreed, I shall here blindfold the eyes of Gimli the Dwarf. The
other may walk free for a while, until we come nearer to our dwellings, down
in Egladil, in the Angle between the waters.'
This was not at all to the liking of Gimli. `The agreement was made
without my consent,' he said. `I will not walk blindfold, like a beggar or a
prisoner. And I am no spy. My folk have never had dealings with any of the
servants of the Enemy. Neither have we done harm to the Elves. I am no more
likely to betray you than Legolas, or any other of my companions.'
'I do not doubt you,' said Haldir. 'Yet this is our law. I am not the
master of the law, and cannot set it aside. I have done much in letting you
set foot over Celebrant.'
Gimli was obstinate. He planted his feet firmly apart, and laid his
hand upon the haft of his axe. 'I will go forward free,' he said, 'or I will
go back and seek my own land, where I am known to be true of word, though I
perish alone in the wilderness.'
`You cannot go back,' said Haldir sternly. 'Now you have come thus far,
you must be brought before the Lord and the Lady. They shall judge you, to
hold you or to give you leave, as they will. You cannot cross the rivers
again, and behind you there are now secret sentinels that you cannot pass.
You would be slain before you saw them.'
Gimli drew his axe from his belt. Haldir and his companion bent their
bows. 'A plague on Dwarves and their stiff necks! ' said Legolas.
'Come!' said Aragorn. `If I am still to lead this Company, you must do
as I bid. It is hard upon the Dwarf to be thus singled out. We will all be
blindfold, even Legolas. That will be best, though it will make the journey
slow and dull.'
Gimli laughed suddenly. `A merry troop of fools we shall look! Will
Haldir lead us all on a string, like many blind beggars with one dog? But I
will be content, if only Legolas here shares my blindness.'
`I am an Elf and a kinsman here,' said Legolas, becoming angry in his
turn.
`Now let us cry: "a plague on the stiff necks of Elves!"' said Aragorn.
`But the Company shall all fare alike. Come, bind our eyes Haldir! '
`I shall claim full amends for every fall and stubbed toe, if you do
not lead us well,' said Gimli as they bound a cloth about his eyes.
'You will have no claim,' said Haldir. `I shall lead you well, and the
paths are smooth and straight.'
`Alas for the folly of these days! ' said Legolas. 'Here all are
enemies of the one Enemy, and yet I must walk blind, while the sun is merry
in the woodland under leaves of gold! '
`Folly it may seem,' said Haldir. 'Indeed in nothing is the power of
the Dark Lord more clearly shown than in the estrangement that divides all
those who still oppose him. Yet so little faith and trust do we find now in
the world beyond Lothlurien, unless maybe in Rivendell, that we dare not by
our own trust endanger our land. We live now upon an island amid many
perils, and our hands are more often upon the bowstring than upon the harp.
`The rivers long defended us, but they are a sure guard no more for the
Shadow has crept northward all about us. Some speak of departing, yet for
that it already seems too late. The mountains to the west are growing evil;
to the east the lands are waste, and full of Sauron's creatures; and it is
rumoured that we cannot now safely pass southward through Rohan, and the
mouths of the Great River are watched by the Enemy. Even if we could come
to
the shores of the Sea, we should find no longer any shelter there. It is
said that there are still havens of. the High Elves, but they are far north
and west, beyond the land of the Halflings. But where that may be, though
the Lord and Lady may know, I do not.'
`You ought at least to guess, since you have seen us,' said Merry.
`There are Elf-havens west of my land, the Shire where Hobbits live.'
`Happy folk are Hobbits to dwell near the shores of the sea! ' said
Haldir. 'It is long indeed since any of my folk have looked on it, yet still
we remember it in song. Tell me of these havens as we walk.'
`I cannot,' said Merry. `I have never seen them. I have never been out
of my own land before. And if I had known what the world outside was like. I
don't think I should have had the heart to leave it.'
`Not even to see fair Lothlurien? ' said Haldir. 'The world is indeed
full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much
that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it
grows perhaps the greater.
`Some there are among us who sing that the Shadow will draw back and
peace shall come again. Yet I do not believe that the world about us will
ever again be as it was of old, or the light of the Sun as it was aforetime.
For the Elves, I fear, it will prove at best a truce, in which they may pass
to the Sea unhindered and leave the Middle-earth for ever. Alas for
Lothlurien that I love! It would be a poor life in a land where no mallorn
grew. But if there are mallorn-trees beyond the Great Sea, none have
reported it.'
As they spoke thus, the Company filed slowly along the paths in the
wood, led by Haldir, while the other Elf walked behind. They felt the ground
beneath their feet smooth and soft, and after a while they walked more
freely, without fear of hurt or fall. Being deprived of sight, Frodo found
his hearing and other senses sharpened. He could smell the trees and the
trodden grass. He could hear many different notes in the rustle of the
leaves overhead, the river murmuring away on his right, and the thin clear
voices of birds in the sky. He felt the sun upon his face and hands when
they passed through an open glade.
As soon as he set foot upon the far bank of Silverlode a strange
feeling had come upon him, and it deepened as he walked on into the Naith:
it seemed to him that he had stepped over a bridge of time into a corner of
the Elder Days, and was -now walking in a world that was no more. In
Rivendell there was memory of ancient things; in Lurien the ancient things
still lived on in the waking world. Evil had been seen and heard there,
sorrow had been known; the Elves feared and distrusted the world outside:
wolves were howling on the wood's borders: but on the land of Lurien no
shadow lay.
All that day the Company marched on, until they felt the cool evening
come and heard the early night-wind whispering among many leaves. Then
they
rested and slept without fear upon the ground; for their guides would not
permit them to unbind their eyes, and they could not climb. In the morning
they went on again, walking without haste. At noon they halted, and Frodo
was aware that they had passed out under the shining Sun. Suddenly he heard
the sound of many voices all around him.
A marching host of Elves had come up silently: they were hastening
toward the northern borders to guard against any attack from Moria; and they
brought news, some of which Haldir reported. The marauding orcs had been
waylaid and almost all destroyed; the remnant had fled westward towards the
mountains, and were being pursued. A strange creature also had been seen,
running with bent back and with hands near the ground, like a beast and yet
not of beast-shape. It had eluded capture, and they had not shot it, not
knowing whether it was good or ill, and it had vanished down the Silverlode
southward.
`Also,' said Haldir, `they bring me a message from the Lord and Lady of
the Galadhrim. You are all to walk free, even the dwarf Gimli. It seems that
the Lady knows who and what is each member of your Company. New
messages
have come from Rivendell perhaps.'
He removed the bandage first from Gimli's eyes. 'Your pardon! ' he
said, bowing low. `Look on us now with friendly eyes! Look and be glad, for
you are the first dwarf to behold the trees of the Naith of Lurien since
Durin's Day! '
When his eyes were in turn uncovered, Frodo looked up and caught his
breath. They were standing in an open space. To the left stood a great
mound, covered with a sward of grass as green as Spring-time in the Elder
Days. Upon it, as a double crown, grew two circles of trees: the outer had
bark of snowy white, and were leafless but beautiful in their shapely
nakedness; the inner were mallorn-trees of great height, still arrayed in
pale gold. High amid the branches of a towering tree that stood in the
centre of all there gleamed a white flet. At the feet of the trees, and all
about the green hillsides the grass was studded with small golden flowers
shaped like stars. Among them, nodding on slender stalks, were other
flowers, white and palest green: they glimmered as a mist amid the rich hue
of the grass. Over all the sky was blue, and the sun of afternoon glowed
upon the hill and cast long green shadows beneath the trees.
'Behold! You are come to Cerin Amroth,' said Haldir. `For this is the
heart of the ancient realm as it was long ago, and here is the mound of
Amroth, where in happier days his high house was built. Here ever bloom the
winter flowers in the unfading grass: the yellow elanor, and the pale
niphredil. Here we will stay awhile, and come to the city of the Galadhrim
at dusk.'
The others cast themselves down upon the fragrant grass, but Frodo
stood awhile still lost in wonder. It seemed to him that he had stepped
through a high window that looked on a vanished world. A light was upon it
for which his language had no name. All that he saw was shapely, but the
shapes seemed at once clear cut, as if they had been first conceived and
drawn at the uncovering of his eyes, and ancient as if they had endured for
ever. He saw no colour but those he knew, gold and white and blue and green,
but they were fresh and poignant, as if he had at that moment first
perceived them and made for them names new and wonderful. In winter here
no
heart could mourn for summer or for spring. No blemish or sickness or
deformity could be seen in anything that grew upon the earth. On the land of
Lurien there was no stain.
He turned and saw that Sam was now standing beside him, looking round
with a puzzled expression, and rubbing his eyes as if he was not sure that
he was awake. `It's sunlight and bright day, right enough,' he said. `I
thought that Elves were all for moon and stars: but this is more elvish than
anything I ever heard tell of. I feel as if I was inside a song. if you take
my meaning.'
Haldir looked at them, and he seemed indeed to take the meaning of both
thought and word. He smiled. `You feel the power of the Lady of the
Galadhrim,' he said. `Would it please you to climb with me up Cerin Amroth?
'
They followed him as he stepped lightly up the grass-clad slopes.
Though he walked and breathed, and about him living leaves and flowers were
stirred by the same cool wind as fanned his face, Frodo felt that he was in
a timeless land that did not fade or change or fall into forgetfulness. When
he had gone and passed again into the outer world, still Frodo the wanderer
from the Shire would walk there, upon the grass among elanor and niphredil
in fair Lothlurien.
They entered the circle of white trees. As they did so the South Wind
blew upon Cerin Amroth and sighed among the branches. Frodo stood still,
hearing far off_ great seas upon beaches that had long ago been washed away,
and sea-birds crying whose race had perished from the earth.
Haldir had gone on and was now climbing to the high flet. As Frodo
prepared to follow him, he laid his hand upon the tree beside the ladder:
never before had he been so suddenly and so keenly aware of the feel and
texture of a tree's skin and of the life within it. He felt a delight in
wood and the touch of it, neither as forester nor as carpenter; it was the
delight of the living tree itself.
As he stepped out at last upon the lofty platform, Haldir took his hand
and turned him toward the South. `Look this way first! ' he said.
Frodo looked and saw, still at some distance, a hill of many mighty
trees, or a city of green towers: which it was he could not tell. Out of it,
it seemed to him that the power and light came that held all the land in
sway. He longed suddenly to fly like a bird to rest in the green city. Then
he looked eastward and saw all the land of Lurien running down to the pale
gleam of Anduin, the Great River. He lifted his eyes across the river and
all the light went out, and he was back again in the world he knew. Beyond
the river the land appeared flat and empty, formless and vague, until far
away it rose again like a wall, dark and drear. The sun that lay on
Lothlurien had no power to enlighten the shadow of that distant height.
`There lies the fastness of Southern Mirkwood,' said Haldir. `It is
clad in a forest of dark fir, where the trees strive one against another and
their branches rot and wither. In the midst upon a stony height stands Dol
Guldur, where long the hidden Enemy had his dwelling. We fear that now it is
inhabited again, and with power sevenfold. A black cloud lies often over it
of late. In this high place you may see the two powers that are opposed one
to another; and ever they strive now in thought, but whereas the light
perceives the very heart of the darkness, its own secret has not been
discovered. Not yet.' He turned and climbed swiftly down, and they followed
him.
At the hill's foot Frodo found Aragorn, standing still and silent as a
tree; but in his hand was a small golden bloom of elanor, and a light was in
his eyes. He was wrapped in some fair memory: and as Frodo looked at him he
knew that he beheld things as they once had been in this same place. For the
grim years were removed from the face of Aragorn, and he seemed clothed in
white, a young lord tall and fair; and he spoke words in the Elvish tongue
to one whom Frodo could not see. Arwen vanimelda, nambril! he said, and then
he drew a breath, and returning out of his thought he looked at Frodo and
smiled.
`Here is the heart of Elvendom on earth,' he said, `and here my heart
dwells ever, unless there be a light beyond the dark roads that we still
must tread, you and I. Come with me! ' And taking Frodo's hand in his, he
left the hill of Cerin Amroth and came there never again as living man.
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The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 10 - Strider (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 15 - The Ring Goes South (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 20 - The Great River (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 21 - The Breaking of the Fellowship (1)


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Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel
The sun was sinking behind the mountains, and the shadows were
deepening in the woods, when they went on again. Their paths now went into
thickets where the dusk had already gathered. Night came beneath the trees
as they walked, and the Elves uncovered their silver lamps.
Suddenly they came out into the open again and found themselves under a
pale evening sky pricked by a few early stars. There was a wide treeless
space before them, running in a great circle and bending away on either
hand. Beyond it was a deep fosse lost in soft shadow, but the grass upon its
brink was green, as if it glowed still in memory of the sun that had gone.
Upon the further side there rose to a great height a green wall encircling a
green hill thronged with mallorn-trees taller than any they had yet seen in
all the land. Their height could not be guessed, but they stood up in the
twilight like living towers. In their, many-tiered branches and amid their
ever-moving leaves countless lights were gleaming, green and gold and
silver. Haldir turned towards the Company.
`Welcome to Caras Galadhon! ' he said. 'Here is the city of the
Galadhrim where dwell the Lord Celeborn and Galadriel the Lady of Lurien.
But we cannot enter here, for the gates do not look northward. We must go
round to the southern side, and the way is not short, for the city is
great.'
There was a road paved with white stone running on the outer brink of
the fosse. Along this they went westward, with the city ever climbing up
like a green cloud upon their left; and as the night deepened more lights
sprang forth, until all the hill seemed afire with stars. They came at last
to a white bridge, and crossing found the great gates of the city: they
faced south-west, set between the ends of the encircling wall that here
overlapped, and they were tall and strong, and hung with many lamps.
Haldir knocked and spoke, and the gates opened soundlessly; but of
guards Frodo could see no sign. The travellers passed within, and the gates
shut behind them. They were in a deep lane between the ends of the wall, and
passing quickly through it they entered the City of the Trees. No folk could
they see, nor hear any feet upon the paths; but there were many voices,
about them, and in the air above. Far away up on the hill they could hear
the sound of singing falling from on high like soft rain upon leaves.
They went along many paths and climbed many stairs, until they came to
the high places and saw before them amid a wide lawn a fountain shimmering.
It was lit by silver lamps that swung from the boughs of trees, and it fell
into a basin of silver, from which a white stream spilled. Upon the south
side of the lawn there stood the mightiest of all the trees; its great
smooth bole gleamed like grey silk, and up it towered, until its first
branches, far above, opened their huge limbs under shadowy clouds of leaves.
Beside it a broad white ladder stood, and at its foot three Elves were
seated. They sprang up as the travellers approached, and Frodo saw that they
were tall and clad in grey mail, and from their shoulders hung long white
cloaks.
'Here dwell Celeborn and Galadriel,' said Haldir. `It is their wish
that you should ascend and speak with them.'
One of the Elf-wardens then blew a clear note on a small horn, and it
was answered three times from far above. `I will go first,' said Haldir.
'Let Frodo come next and with him Legolas. The others may follow as they
wish. It is a long climb for those that are not accustomed to such stairs,
but you may rest upon the way.'
As he climbed slowly up Frodo passed many flets: some on one side, some
on another, and some set about the bole of the tree, so that the ladder
passed through them. At a great height above the ground he came to a wide
talan, like the deck of a great ship. On it was built a house, so large that
almost it would have served for a hall of Men upon the earth. He entered
behind Haldir, and found that he was in a chamber of oval shape, in the
midst of which grew the trunk of the great mallorn, now tapering towards its
crown, and yet making still a pillar of wide girth.
The chamber was filled with a soft light; its walls were green and
silver and its roof of gold. Many Elves were seated there. On two chairs
beneath the bole of the tree and canopied by a living bough there sat, side
by side, Celeborn and Galadriel. They stood up to greet their guests, after
the manner of Elves, even those who were accounted mighty kings. Very tall
they were, and the Lady no less tall than the Lord; and they were grave and
beautiful. They were clad wholly in white; and the hair of the Lady was of
deep gold, and the hair of the Lord Celeborn was of silver long and bright;
but no sign of age was upon them, unless it were in the depths of their
eyes; for these were keen as lances in the starlight, and yet profound, the
wells of deep memory.
Haldir led Frodo before them, and the Lord welcomed him in his own
tongue. The Lady Galadriel said no word but looked long upon his face.
`Sit now beside my chair, Frodo of the Shire! ' said Celeborn. `When
all have come we will speak together.'
Each of the companions he greeted courteously by name as they entered.
`Welcome Aragorn son of Arathorn! ' he said. `It is eight and thirty years
of the world outside since you came to this land; and those years lie heavy
on you. But the end is near, for good or ill. Here lay aside your burden for
a while! '
'Welcome son of Thranduil! Too seldom do my kindred journey hither from
the North.'
`Welcome Gimli son of Gluin! It is long indeed since we saw one of
Durin's folk in Caras Galadhon. But today we have broken our long law. May
it be a sign that though the world is now dark better days are at hand, and
that friendship shall be renewed between our peoples.' Gimli bowed low.
When all the guests were seated before his chair the Lord looked at
them again. 'Here there are eight,' he said. `Nine were to set out: so said
the messages. But maybe there has been some change of counsel that we have
not heard. Elrond is far away, and darkness gathers between us, and all this
year the shadows have grown longer.'
`Nay, there was no change of counsel,' said the Lady Galadriel speaking
for the first time. Her voice was clear and musical, but deeper than woman's
wont. `Gandalf the Grey set out with the Company, but he did not pass the
borders of this land. Now tell us where he is; for I much desired to speak
with him again. But I cannot see him from afar, unless he comes within the
fences of Lothlurien: a grey mist is about him, and the ways of his feet and
of his mind are hidden from me.'
'Alas! ' said Aragorn. `Gandalf the Grey fell into shadow. He remained
in Moria and did not escape.'
At these words all the Elves in the hall cried aloud in grief and
amazement. `These are evil tidings,' said Celeborn, `the most evil that have
been spoken here in long years full of grievous deeds.' He turned to Haldir.
`Why has nothing of this been told to me before? ' he asked in the
Elven-tongue.
'We have not spoken to Haldir of our deeds or our purpose,' said
Legolas. `At first we were weary and danger was too close behind and
afterwards we almost forgot our grief for a time, as we walked in gladness
on the fair paths of Lurien.'
`Yet our grief is great and our loss cannot be mended,' said Frodo.
'Gandalf was our guide, and he led us through Moria; and when our escape
seemed beyond hope he saved us, and he fell.'
'Tell us now the full tale! ' said Celeborn:
Then Aragorn recounted all that had happened upon the pass of
Caradhras, and in the days that followed; and he spoke of Balin and his
book, and the fight in the Chamber of Mazarbul, and the fire, and the narrow
bridge, and the coming of the Terror. 'An evil of the Ancient World it
seemed, such as I have never seen before,' said Aragorn. `It was both a
shadow and a flame, strong and terrible.'
'It was a Balrog of Morgoth,' said Legolas; `of all elf-banes the most
deadly, save the One who sits in the Dark Tower.'
`Indeed I saw upon the bridge that which haunts our darkest dreams l
saw Durin's Bane,' said Gimli in a low voice, and dread was in his eyes.
'Alas! ' said Celeborn. `We long have feared that under Caradhras a
terror slept. But had I known that the Dwarves had stirred up this evil in
Moria again, l would have forbidden you to pass the northern borders, you
and all that went with you. And if it were possible, one would say that at
the last Gandalf fell from wisdom into folly, going needlessly into the net
of Moria.'
`He would be rash indeed that said that thing,' said Galadriel gravely.
`Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. Those that followed him
knew not his mind and cannot report his full purpose. But however it may be
with the guide, the followers are blameless. Do not repent of your welcome
to the Dwarf. If our folk had been exiled long and far from Lothlurien, who
of the Galadhrim, even Celeborn the Wise, would pass nigh and would not
wish
to look upon their ancient home, though it had become an abode of dragons?
'Dark is the water of Kheled-zvram, and cold are the springs of
Kibil-nvla, and fair were the many-pillared halls of Khazad-dym in Elder
Days before the fall of mighty kings beneath the stone.' She looked upon
Gimli, who sat glowering and sad, and she smiled. And the Dwarf, hearing the
names given in his own ancient tongue, looked up and met her eyes; and it
seemed to him that he looked suddenly into the heart of an enemy and saw
there love and understanding. Wonder came into his face, and then he smiled
in answer.
He rose clumsily and bowed in dwarf-fashion, saying: `Yet more fair is
the living land of Lurien, and the Lady Galadriel is above all the jewels
that lie beneath the earth! '
There was a silence. At length Celeborn spoke again. `I did not know
that your plight was so evil,' he said. `Let Gimli forget my harsh words: I
spoke in the trouble of my heart. I will do what I can to aid you, each
according to his wish and need, but especially that one of the little folk
who bears the burden.'
'Your quest is known to us,' said Galadriel, looking at Frodo. `But we
will not here speak of it more openly. Yet not in vain will it prove, maybe,
that you came to this land seeking aid, as Gandalf himself plainly purposed.
For the Lord of the Galadhrim is accounted the wisest of the Elves of
Middle-earth, and a giver of gifts beyond the power of kings. He has dwelt
in the West since the days of dawn, and I have dwelt with him years
uncounted; for ere the fall of Nargothrond or Gondolin I passed over the
mountains, and together through ages of the world we have fought the long
defeat.
'I it was who first summoned the White Council. And if my designs had
not gone amiss, it would have been governed by Gandalf the Grey, and then
mayhap things would have gone otherwise. But even now there is hope left. I
will not give you counsel, saying do this, or do that. For not in doing or
contriving, nor in choosing between this course and another, can I avail;
but only in knowing what was and is, and in part also what shall be. But
this I will say to you: your Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray
but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while
all the Company is true.'
And with that word she held them with her eyes, and in silence looked
searchingly at each of them in turn. None save Legolas and Aragorn could
long endure her glance. Sam quickly blushed and hung his head.
At length the Lady Galadriel released them from her eyes, and she
smiled. `Do not let your hearts be troubled,' she said. 'Tonight you shall
sleep in peace.' Then they sighed and felt suddenly weary, as those who have
been questioned long and deeply, though no words had been spoken openly.
`Go now! ' said Celeborn. `You are worn with sorrow and much toil. Even
if your Quest did not concern us closely, you should have refuge in this
City, until you were healed and refreshed. Now you shall rest, and we will
not speak of your further road for a while.'
That night the Company slept upon the ground, much to the satisfaction
of the hobbits. The Elves spread for them a pavilion among the trees near
the fountain, and in it they laid soft couches; then speaking words of peace
with fair elvish voices they left them. For a little while the travellers
talked of their night before in the tree-tops, and of their day's journey,
and of the Lord and Lady; for they had not yet the heart to look further
back.
`What did you blush for, Sam? ' said Pippin. `You soon broke down.
Anyone would have thought you had a guilty conscience. I hope it was nothing
worse than a wicked plot to steal one of my blankets.'
`I never thought no such thing,' answered Sam, in no mood for jest. 'If
you want to know, I felt as if I hadn't got nothing on, and I didn't like
it. She seemed to be looking inside me and asking me what I would do if she
gave me the chance of flying back home to the Shire to a nice little hole
with-with a bit of garden of my own.'
`That's funny,' said Merry. 'Almost exactly what I felt myself; only,
only well, I don't think I'II say any more,' he ended lamely.
All of them, it seemed, had fared alike: each had felt that he was
offered a choice between a shadow full of fear that lay ahead, and something
that he greatly desired: clear before his mind it lay, and to get it he had
only to turn aside from the road and leave the Quest and the war against
Sauron to others.
`And it seemed to me, too,' said Gimli, `that my choice would remain
secret and known only to myself.'
'To me it seemed exceedingly strange,' said Boromir. `Maybe it was only
a test, and she thought to read our thoughts for her own good purpose; but
almost I should have said that she was tempting us, and offering what she
pretended to have the power to give. It need not be said that I refused to
listen. The Men of Minas Tirith are true to their word.' But what he thought
that the Lady had offered him Boromir did not tell.
And as for Frodo, he would not speak, though Boromir pressed him with
questions. `She held you long in her gaze, Ring-bearer,' he said.
`Yes,' said Frodo; `but whatever came into my mind then I will keep
there.'
`Well, have a care! ' said Boromir. `I do not feel too sure of this
Elvish Lady and her purposes.'
`Speak no evil of the Lady Galadriel! ' said Aragorn sternly. 'You know
not what you say. There is in her and in this land no evil, unless a man
bring it hither himself. Then let him beware! But tonight I shall sleep
without fear for the first time since I left Rivendell. And may I sleep
deep, and forget for a while my grief! I am weary in body and in heart.' He
cast himself down upon his couch and fell at once into a long sleep.
The others soon did the same, and no sound or dream disturbed their
slumber. When they woke they found that the light of day was broad upon the
lawn before the pavilion. and the fountain rose and fell glittering in the
sun.
They remained some days in Lothlurien, so far as they could tell or
remember. All the while that they dwelt there the sun shone clear, save for
a gentle rain that fell at times, and passed away leaving all things fresh
and clean. The air was cool and soft, as if it were early spring, yet they
felt about them the deep and thoughtful quiet of winter. It seemed to them
that they did little but eat and drink and rest, and walk among the trees;
and it was enough.
They had not seen the Lord and Lady again, and they had little speech
with the Elven-folk; for few of these knew or would use the Westron tongue.
Haldir had bidden them farewell and gone back again to the fences of the
North, where great watch was now kept since the tidings of Moria that the
Company had brought. Legolas was away much among the Galadhrim, and
after
the first night he did not sleep with the other companions, though he
returned to eat and talk with them. Often he took Gimli with him when he
went abroad in the land, and the others wondered at this change.
Now as the companions sat or walked together they spoke of Gandalf, and
all that each had known and seen of him came clear before their minds. As
they were healed of hurt and weariness of body the grief of their loss grew
more keen. Often they heard nearby Elvish voices singing, and knew that they
were making songs of lamentation for his fall, for they caught his name
among the sweet sad words that they could not understand.
Mithrandir, Mithrandir sang the Elves, O Pilgrim Grey! For so they
loved to call him. But if Legolas was with the Company, he would not
interpret the songs for them, saying that he had not the skill, and that for
him the grief was still too near, a matter for tears and not yet for song.
It was Frodo who first put something of his sorrow into halting words.
He was seldom moved to make song or rhyme; even in Rivendell he had
listened
and had not sung himself, though his memory was stored with many things that
others had made before him. But now as he sat beside the fountain in Lurien
and heard about him the voices of the Elves, his thought took shape in a
song that seemed fair to him; yet when he tried to repeat it to Sam only
snatches remained, faded as a handful of withered leaves.
When evening in the Shire was grey
his footsteps on the Hill were heard;
before the dawn he went away
on journey long without a word.
From Wilderland to Western shore,
from northern waste to southern hill,
through dragon-lair and hidden door
and darkling woods he walked at will.
With Dwarf and Hobbit, Elves and Men,
with mortal and immortal folk,
with bird on bough and beast in den,
in their own secret tongues he spoke.
A deadly sword, a healing hand,
a back that bent beneath its load;
a trumpet-voice, a burning brand,
a weary pilgrim on the road.
A lord of wisdom throned he sat,
swift in anger, quick to laugh;
an old man in a battered hat
who leaned upon a thorny staff.
He stood upon the bridge alone
and Fire and Shadow both defied;
his staff was broken on the stone,
in Khazad-dym his wisdom died.
`Why, you'll be beating Mr. Bilbo next! ' said Sam.
'No, I am afraid not,' said Frodo. 'But that is the best I can do yet.'
'Well, Mr. Frodo, if you do have another go, I hope you'll say a word
about his fireworks,' said Sam. `Something like this:
The finest rockets ever seen:
they burst in stars of blue and green,
or after thunder golden showers
came falling like a rain of flowers.
Though that doesn't do them justice by a long road.'
`No, I'll leave that to you, Sam. Or perhaps to Bilbo. But-well. I
can't talk of it any more. I can't bear to think of bringing the news to
him.'
One evening Frodo and Sam were walking together in the cool twilight.
Both of them felt restless again. On Frodo suddenly the shadow of parting
had fallen: he knew somehow that the time was very near when he must leave
Lothlurien.
`What do you think of Elves now, Sam? ' he said. `I asked you the same
question once before-it seems a very long while ago; but you have seen more
of them since then.'
'I have indeed! ' said Sam. 'And I reckon there's Elves and Elves.
They're all elvish enough, but they're not all the same. Now these folk
aren't wanderers or homeless, and seem a bit nearer to the likes of us: they
seem to belong here, more even than Hobbits do in the Shire. Whether they've
made the land, or the land's made them, it's hard to say, if you take my
meaning. It's wonderfully quiet here. Nothing seems to be going on, and
nobody seems to want it to. If there's any magic about, it's right down
deep, where I can't lay my hands on it, in a manner of speaking.'
'You can see and feel it everywhere,' said Frodo.
'Well,' said Sam, 'you can't see nobody working it. No fireworks like
poor Gandalf used to show. I wonder we don't see nothing of the Lord and
Lady in all these days. I fancy now that she could do some wonderful things,
if she had a mind. I'd dearly love to see some Elf-magic, Mr. Frodo! '
'I wouldn't,' said Frodo. `I am content. And I don't miss Gandalf's
fireworks, but his bushy eyebrows, and his quick temper, and his voice.'
`You're right,' said Sam. `And don't think I'm finding fault. I've
often wanted to see a bit of magic like what it tells of in old tales, but
I've never heard of a better land than this. It's like being at home and on
a holiday at the same time, if you understand me. I don't want to leave. All
the same, I'm beginning to feel that if we've got to go on, then we'd best
get it over.
'It's the job that's never started as takes longest to finish, as my
old gaffer used to say. And I don't reckon that these folk can do much more
to help us, magic or no. It's when we leave this land that we shall miss
Gandalf worse, I'm thinking.'
'I am afraid that's only too true, Sam,' said Frodo. `Yet I hope very
much that before we leave we shall see the Lady of the Elves again.'
Even as he spoke, they saw, as if she came in answer to their words,
the Lady Galadriel approaching. Tall and white and fair she walked beneath
the trees. She spoke no word, but beckoned to them.
Turning aside, she led them toward the southern slopes of the hill of
Caras Galadhon, and passing through a high green hedge they came into an
enclosed garden. No trees grew there, and it lay open to the sky. The
evening star had risen and was shining with white fire above the western
woods. Down a long flight of steps the Lady went into a deep green hollow,
through which ran murmuring the silver stream that issued from the fountain
on the hill. At the bottom, upon a low pedestal carved like a branching
tree, stood a basin of silver. wide and shallow, and beside it stood a
silver ewer.
With water from the stream Galadriel filled the basin to the brim, and
breathed on it, and when the water was still again she spoke. `Here is the
Mirror of Galadriel,' she said. 'I have brought you here so that you may
look in it, if you will.'
The air was very still, and the dell was dark, and the Elf-lady beside
him was tall and pale. 'What shall we look for, and what shall we see? '
asked Frodo, filled with awe.
`Many things I can command the Mirror to reveal,' she answered, `and to
some I can show what they desire to see. But the Mirror will also show
things unbidden, and those are often stranger and more profitable than
things which we wish to behold. What you will see, if you leave the Mirror
free to work, I cannot tell. For it shows things that were, and things that
are, things that yet may be. But which it is that he sees, even the wisest
cannot always tell. Do you wish to look? '
Frodo did not answer.
`And you? ' she said, turning to Sam. 'For this is what your folk would
call magic. I believe; though I do not understand clearly what they mean;
and they seem also to use the same word of the deceits of the Enemy. But
this, if you will, is the magic of Galadriel. Did you not say that you
wished to see Elf-magic? '
'I did,' said Sam, trembling a little between fear and curiosity. `I'll
have a peep, Lady, if you're willing.'
`And I'd not mind a glimpse of what's going on at home,' he said in an
aside to Frodo. 'It seems a terrible long time that I've been away. But
there, like as not I'll only see the stars, or something that I won't
understand.'
'Like as not,' said the Lady with a gentle laugh. `But come, you shall
look and see what you may. Do not touch the water! '
Sam climbed up on the foot of the pedestal and leaned over the basin.
The water looked hard and dark. Stars were reflected in it.
`There's only stars, as I thought,' he said. Then he gave a low gasp,
for the stars went out. As if a dark veil had been withdrawn, the Mirror
grew grey, and then clear. There was sun shining, and the branches of trees
were waving and tossing in the wind. But before Sam could make up his mind
what it was that he saw, the light faded; and now he thought he saw Frodo
with a pale face lying fast asleep under a great dark cliff. Then he seemed
to see himself going along a dim passage, and climbing an endless winding
stair. It came to him suddenly that he was looking urgently for something,
but what it was he did not know. Like a dream the vision shifted and went
back, and he saw the trees again. But this time they were not so close, and
he could see what was going on: they were not waving in the wind, they were
falling, crashing to the ground.
`Hi!' cried Sam in an outraged voice. 'There's that Ted Sandyman
a-cutting down trees as he shouldn't. They didn't ought to be felled: it's
that avenue beyond the Mill that shades the road to Bywater. I wish I could
get at Ted, and I'd fell him!'
But now Sam noticed that the Old Mill had vanished, and a large
red-brick building was being put up where it had stood. Lots of folk were
busily at work. There was a tall red chimney nearby. Black smoke seemed to
cloud the surface of the Mirror.
'There's some devilry at work in the Shire,' he said. 'Elrond knew what
he was about when he wanted to send Mr. Merry back.' Then suddenly Sam
gave
a cry and sprang away. 'I can't stay here,' he said wildly. `I must go home.
They've dug up Bagshot Row, and there's the poor old gaffer going down the
Hill with his bits of things on a barrow. I must go home! '
'You cannot go home alone,' said the Lady. 'You did not wish to go home
without your master before you looked in the Mirror, and yet you knew that
evil things might well be happening in the Shire. Remember that the Mirror
shows many things, and not all have yet come to pass. Some never come to be,
unless those that behold the visions turn aside from their path to prevent
them. The Mirror is dangerous as a guide of deeds.'
Sam sat on the ground and put his head in his hands. `I wish I had
never come here, and I don't want to see no more magic,' he said and fell
silent. After a moment he spoke again thickly, as if struggling with tears.
`No, I'll go home by the long road with Mr. Frodo, or not at all,' he said.
`But I hope I do get back some day. If what I've seen turns out true,
somebody's going to catch it hot! '
`Do you now wish to look, Frodo? ' said the Lady Galadriel. `You did
not wish to see Elf-magic and were content.'
`Do you advise me to look? ' asked Frodo.
'No,' she said. `I do not counsel you one way or the other. I am not a
counsellor. You may learn something, and whether what you see be fair or
evil, that may be profitable, and yet it may not. Seeing is both good and
perilous. Yet I think, Frodo, that you have courage and wisdom enough for
the venture, or I would not have brought you here. Do as you will! '
`I will look,' said Frodo, and he climbed on the pedestal and bent over
the dark water. At once the Mirror cleared and he saw a twilit land.
Mountains loomed dark in the distance against a pale sky. A long grey road
wound back out of sight. Far away a figure came slowly down the road, faint
and small at first, but growing larger and clearer as it approached.
Suddenly Frodo realized that it reminded him of Gandalf. He almost called
aloud the wizard's name, and then he saw that the figure was clothed not in
grey but in white, in a white that shone faintly in the dusk; and in its
hand there was a white staff. The head was so bowed that he could see no
face, and presently the figure turned aside round a bend in the road and
went out of the Mirror's view. Doubt came into Frodo's mind: was this a
vision of Gandalf on one of his many lonely journeys long ago, or was it
Saruman?
The vision now changed. Brief and small but very vivid he caught a
glimpse of Bilbo walking restlessly about his room. The table was littered
with disordered papers; rain was beating on the windows.
Then there was a pause, and after it many swift scenes followed that
Frodo in some way knew to be parts of a great history in which he had become
involved. The mist cleared and he saw a sight which he had never seen before
but knew at once: the Sea. Darkness fell. The sea rose and raged in a great
storm. Then he saw against the Sun, sinking blood-red into a wrack of
clouds, the black outline of a tall ship with torn sails riding up out of
the West. Then a wide river flowing through a populous city. Then a white
fortress with seven towers. And then again a ship with black sails, but now
it was morning again, and the water rippled with light, and a banner bearing
the emblem of a white tree shone in the sun. A smoke as of fire and battle
arose, and again the sun went down in a burning red that faded into a grey
mist; and into the mist a small ship passed away, twinkling with lights. It
vanished, and Frodo sighed and prepared to draw away.
But suddenly the Mirror went altogether dark, as dark as if a hole had
opened in the world of sight, and Frodo looked into emptiness. In the black
abyss there appeared a single Eye that slowly grew. until it filled nearly
all the Mirror. So terrible was it that Frodo stood rooted, unable to cry
out or to withdraw his gaze. The Eye was rimmed with fire, but was itself
glazed, yellow as a cat's, watchful and intent, and the black slit of its
pupil opened on a pit, a window into nothing.
Then the Eye began to rove, searching this way and that; and Frodo knew
with certainty and horror that among the many things that it sought he
himself was one. But he also knew that it could not see him-not yet, not
unless he willed it. The Ring that hung upon its chain about his neck grew
heavy, heavier than a great stone, and his head was dragged downwards. The
Mirror seemed to be growing hot and curls of steam were rising from the
water. He was slipping forward.
`Do not touch the water!' said the Lady Galadriel softly. The vision
faded, and Frodo found that he was looking at the cool stars twinkling in
the silver basin. He stepped back shaking all over and looked at the Lady.
`I know what it was that you last saw,' she said; `for that is also in
my mind. Do not be afraid! But do not think that only by singing amid the
trees, nor even by the slender arrows of elven-bows, is this land of
Lothlurien maintained and defended against its Enemy. I say to you, Frodo,
that even as I speak to you, I perceive the Dark Lord and know his mind, or
all of his mind that concerns the Elves. And he gropes ever to see me and my
thought. But still the door is closed! '
She lifted up her white arms, and spread out her hands towards the East
in a gesture of rejection and denial. Edrendil, the Evening Star, most
beloved of the Elves, shone clear above. So bright was it that the figure of
the Elven-lady cast a dim shadow on the ground. Its rays glanced upon a ring
about her finger; it glittered like polished gold overlaid with silver
light, and a white stone in it twinkled as if the Even-star had come down to
rest upon her hand. Frodo gazed at the ring with awe; for suddenly it seemed
to him that he understood.
`Yes,' she said, divining his thought, `it is not permitted to speak of
it, and Elrond could not do so. But it cannot be hidden from the
Ring-bearer, and one who has seen the Eye. Verily it is in the land of
Lurien upon the finger of Galadriel that one of the Three remains. This is
Nenya, the Ring of Adamant, and I am its keeper.
`He suspects, but he does not know -- not yet. Do you not see now
wherefore your coming is to us as the footstep of Doom? For if you fail,
then we are laid bare to the Enemy. Yet if you succeed, then our power is
diminished, and Lothlurien will fade, and the tides of Time will sweep it
away. We must depart into the West, or dwindle to a rustic folk of dell and
cave, slowly to forget and to be forgotten.'
Frodo bent his head. `And what do you wish? ' he said at last.
`That what should be shall be,' she answered. `The love of the Elves
for their land and their works is deeper than the deeps of the Sea, and
their regret is undying and cannot ever wholly be assuaged. Yet they will
cast all away rather than submit to Sauron: for they know him now. For the
fate of Lothlurien you are not answerable but only for the doing of your own
task. Yet I could wish, were it of any avail, that the One Ring had never
been wrought, or had remained for ever lost.'
'You are wise and fearless and fair, Lady Galadriel,' said Frodo. `I
will give you the One Ring, if you ask for it. It is too great a matter for
me.'
Galadriel laughed with a sudden clear laugh. `Wise the Lady Galadriel
may be,' she said, `yet here she has met her match in courtesy. Gently are
you revenged for my testing of your heart at our first meeting. You begin to
see with a keen eye. I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired to ask
what you offer. For many long years I had pondered what I might do, should
the Great Ring come into my hands, and behold! it was brought within my
grasp. The evil that was devised long ago works on in many ways, whether
Sauron himself stands or falls. Would not that have been a noble deed to set
to the credit of his Ring, if I had taken it by force or fear from my guest?
`And now at last it comes. You will give me the Ring freely! In place
of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but
beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the
Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the
Lightning!
Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair! '
She lifted up her hand and from the ring that she wore there issued a
great light that illuminated her alone and left all else dark. She stood
before Frodo seeming now tall beyond measurement, and beautiful beyond
enduring, terrible and worshipful. Then she let her hand fall, and the light
faded, and suddenly she laughed again, and lo! she was shrunken: a slender
elf-woman, clad in simple white, whose gentle voice was soft and sad.
'I pass the test,' she said. `I will diminish, and go into the West and
remain Galadriel.'
They stood for a long while in silence. At length the Lady spoke again.
`Let us return! ' she said. `In the morning you must depart for now we have
chosen, and the tides of fate are flowing.'
`I would ask one thing before we go,' said Frodo, `a thing which I
often meant to ask Gandalf in Rivendell. I am permitted to wear the One
Ring: why cannot I see all the others and know the thoughts of those that
wear them? '
`You have not tried,' she said. `Only thrice have you set the Ring upon
your finger since you knew what you possessed. Do not try! It would destroy
you. Did not Gandalf tell you that the rings give power according to the
measure of each possessor? Before you could use that power you would need
to
become far stronger, and to train your will to the domination of others. Yet
even so, as Ring-bearer and as one that has borne it on finger and seen that
which is hidden, your sight is grown keener. You have perceived my thought
more clearly than many that are accounted wise. You saw the Eye of him that
holds the Seven and the Nine. And did you not see and recognize the ring
upon my finger? Did you see my ring? ' she asked turning again to Sam.
'No, Lady,' he answered. `To tell you the truth, I wondered what you
were talking about. I saw a star through your finger. But if you'll pardon
my speaking out, I think my master was right. I wish you'd take his Ring.
You'd put things to rights. You'd stop them digging up the gaffer and
turning him adrift. You'd make some folk pay for their dirty work.'
`I would,' she said. `That is how it would begin. But it would not stop
with that, alas! We will not speak more of it. Let us go!'
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The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 10 - Strider (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 15 - The Ring Goes South (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 20 - The Great River (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 21 - The Breaking of the Fellowship (1)


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Saturday, August 28, 2010
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien
That night the Company was again summoned to the chamber of Celeborn,
and there the Lord and Lady greeted them with fair words. At length Celeborn
spoke of their departure.
`Now is the time,' he said, `when those who wish to continue the Quest
must harden their hearts to leave this land. Those who no longer wish to go
forward may remain here, for a while. But whether they stay or go, none can
be sure of peace. For we are come now to the edge of doom. Here those who
wish may await the oncoming of the hour till either the ways of the world
lie open again. or we summon them to the last need of Lurien. Then they may
return to their own lands, or else go to the long home of those that fall in
battle.'
There was a silence. `They all resolved to go forward,' said Galadriel
looking in their eyes.
`As for me,' said Boromir, `my way home lies onward and not back.'
`That is true,' said Celeborn, `but is all this Company going with you
to Minas Tirith? '
`We have not decided our course,' said Aragorn. 'Beyond Lothlurien I do
not know what Gandalf intended to do. Indeed I do not think that even he had
any clear purpose.'
`Maybe not,' said Celeborn, `yet when you leave this land, you can no
longer forget the Great River. As some of you know well, it cannot be
crossed by travellers with baggage between Lurien and Gondor, save by boat.
And are not the bridges of Osgiliath broken down and all the landings held
now by the Enemy?
`On which side will you journey? The way to Minas Tirith lies upon this
side, upon the west; but the straight road of the Quest lies east of the
River, upon the darker shore. Which shore will you now take? '
`If my advice is heeded, it will be the western shore, and the way to
Minas Tirith,' answered Boromir. `But I am not the leader of the Company.'
The others said nothing, and Aragorn looked doubtful and troubled.
`I see that you do not yet know what to do,' said Celeborn. `It is not
my part to choose for you; but I will help you as I may. There are some
among you who can handle boats: Legolas, whose folk know the swift Forest
River; and Boromir of Gondor; and Aragorn the traveller.'
`And one Hobbit! ' cried Merry. `Not all of us look on boats as wild
horses. My people live by the banks of the Brandywine.'
`That is well,' said Celeborn. `Then I will furnish your Company with
boats. They must be small and light, for if you go far by water, there are
places where you will be forced to carry them. You will come to the rapids
of Sarn Gebir, and maybe at last to the great falls of Rauros where the
River thunders down from Nen Hithoel; and there are other perils. Boats may
make your journey less toilsome for a while. Yet they will not give you
counsel: in the end you must leave them and the River, and turn west-or
east.'
Aragorn thanked Celeborn many times. The gift of boats comforted him
much, not least because there would now be no need to decide his course for
some days. The others, too, looked more hopeful. Whatever perils lay ahead,
it seemed better to float down the broad tide of Anduin to meet them than to
plod forward with bent backs. Only Sam was doubtful: he at any rate still
thought boats as bad as wild horses, or worse, and not all the dangers that
he had survived made him think better of them.
`All shall be prepared for you and await you at the haven before noon
tomorrow,' said Celeborn. 'I will send my people to you in the morning to
help you make ready for the journey. Now we will wish you all a fair night
and untroubled sleep.'
'Good night, my friends! ' said Galadriel. 'Sleep in peace! Do not
trouble your hearts overmuch with thought of the road tonight. Maybe the
paths that you each shall tread are already laid before your feet, though
you do not see them. Good night! '
The Company now took their leave and returned to their pavilion.
Legolas went with them, for this was to be their last night in Lothlurien,
and in spite of the words of Galadriel they wished to take counsel together.
For a long time they debated what they should do, and how it would be
best to attempt the fulfilling of their purpose with the Ring: but they came
to no decision. It was plain that most of them desired to go first to Minas
Tirith, and to escape at least for a while from the terror of the Enemy.
They would have been willing to follow a leader over the River and into the
shadow of Mordor; but Frodo spoke no word, and Aragorn was still divided in
his mind.
His own plan, while Gandalf remained with them, had been to go with
Boromir, and with his sword help to deliver Gondor. For he believed that the
message of the dreams was a summons, and that the hour had come at last
when
the heir of Elendil should come forth and strive with Sauron for the
mastery. But in Moria the burden of Gandalf had been laid on him; and he
knew that he could not now forsake the Ring, if Frodo refused in the end to
go with Boromir. And yet what help could he or any of the Company give to
Frodo, save to walk blindly with him into the darkness?
`I shall go to Minas Tirith, alone if need be, for it is my duty,' said
Boromir; and after that he was silent for a while, sitting with his eyes
fixed on Frodo, as if he was trying to read the Halfling's thoughts. At
length he spoke again, softly, as if he was debating with himself. `If you
wish only to destroy the Ring,' he said, `then there is little use in war
and weapons; and the Men of Minas Tirith cannot help. But if you wish to
destroy the armed might of the Dark Lord, then it is folly to go without
force into his domain; and folly to throw away.' He paused suddenly, as if
he had become aware that he was speaking his thoughts aloud. `It would be
folly to throw lives away, I mean,' he ended. `It is a choice between
defending a strong place and walking openly into the arms of death. At
least, that is how I see it.'
Frodo caught something new and strange in Boromir's glance, and he
looked hard at him. Plainly Boromir's thought was different from his final
words. It would be folly to throw away: what? The Ring of Power? He had said
something like this at the Council, but then he had accepted the correction
of Elrond. Frodo looked at Aragorn, but he seemed deep in his own thought
and made no sign that he had heeded Boromir's words. And so their debate
ended. Merry and Pippin were already asleep, and Sam was nodding. The
night
was growing old.
In the morning, as they were beginning to pack their slender goods,
Elves that could speak their tongue came to them and brought them many gifts
of food and clothing for the journey. The food was mostly in the form of
very thin cakes, made of a meal that was baked a light brown on the outside,
and inside was the colour of cream. Gimli took up one of the cakes and
looked at it with a doubtful eye.
`Cram,' he said under his breath, as he broke off a crisp corner and
nibbled at it. His expression quickly changed, and he ate all the rest of
the cake with relish.
`No more, no more!' cried the Elves laughing. `You have eaten enough
already for a long day's march.'
`I thought it was only a kind of cram, such as the Dale-men make for
journeys in the wild,' said the Dwarf.
`So it is,' they answered. `But we call it lembas or waybread, and it
is more strengthening than any food made by Men, and it is more pleasant
than cram, by all accounts.'
`Indeed it is,' said Gimli. 'Why it is better than the honey-cakes of
the Beornings, and that is great praise, for the Beornings are the best
bakers that I know of; but they are none too willing to deal out their cakes
to travellers in these days. You are kindly hosts! '
'All the same, we bid you spare the food,' they said. 'Eat little at a
time, and only at need. For these things are given to serve you when all
else fails. The cakes will keep sweet for many many days, if they are
unbroken and left in their leaf-wrappings, as we have brought them. One will
keep a traveller on his feet for a day of long labour, even if he be one of
the tall Men of Minas Tirith.'
The Elves next unwrapped and gave to each of the Company the clothes
they had brought. For each they had provided a hood and cloak, made
according to his size, of the light but warm silken stuff that the Galadhrim
wove. It was hard to say of what colour they were: grey with the hue of
twilight under the trees they seemed to be; and yet if they were moved, or
set in another light, they were green as shadowed leaves, or brown as fallow
fields by night, dusk-silver as water under the stars. Each cloak was
fastened about the neck with a brooch like a green leaf veined with silver.
`Are these magic cloaks? ' asked Pippin, looking at them with wonder.
`I do not know what you mean by that,' answered the leader of the
Elves. `They are fair garments, and the web is good, for it was made in this
land. They are elvish robes certainly, if that is what you mean. Leaf and
branch, water and stone: they have the hue and beauty of all these things
under the twilight of Lurien that we love; for we put the thought of all
that we love into all that we make. Yet they are garments, not armour, and
they will not turn shaft or blade. But they should serve you well: they are
light to wear, and warm enough or cool enough at need. And you will find
them a great aid in keeping out of the sight of unfriendly eyes, whether you
walk among the stones or the trees. You are indeed high in the favour of the
Lady! For she herself and her maidens wove this stuff; and never before have
we clad strangers in the garb of our own people.'
After their morning meal the Company said farewell to the lawn by the
fountain. Their hearts were heavy; for it was a fair place, and it had
become like home to them, though they could not count the days and nights
that they had passed there. As they stood for a moment looking at the white
water in the sunlight, Haldir came walking towards them over the green grass
of the glade. Frodo greeted him with delight.
'I have returned from the Northern Fences,' said the Elf, `and I am
sent now to be your guide again. The Dimrill Dale is full of vapour and
clouds of smoke, and the mountains are troubled. There are noises in the
deeps of the earth. If any of you had thought of returning northwards to
your homes, you would not have been able to pass that way. But come! Your
path now goes south.'
As they walked through Caras Galadhon the green ways were empty; but in
the trees above them many voices were murmuring and singing. They
themselves
went silently. At last Haldir led them down the southward slopes of the
hill, and they came again to the great gate hung with lamps, and to the
white bridge; and so they passed out and left the city of the Elves. Then
they turned away from the paved road and took a path that went off into a
deep thicket of mallorn-trees, and passed on, winding through rolling
woodlands of silver shadow, leading them ever down, southwards and
eastwards, towards the shores of the River.
They had gone some ten miles and noon was at hand when they came on a
high green wall. Passing through an opening they came suddenly out of the
trees. Before them lay a long lawn of shining grass, studded with golden
elanor that glinted in the sun. The lawn ran out into a narrow tongue
between bright margins: on the right and west the Silverlode flowed
glittering; on the left and east the Great River rolled its broad waters,
deep and dark. On the further shores the woodlands still marched on
southwards as far as the eye could see, but all the banks were bleak and
bare. No mallorn lifted its gold-hung boughs beyond the Land of Lurien.
On the bank of the Silverlode, at some distance up from the meeting of
the streams, there was a hythe of white stones and white wood. By it were
moored many boats and barges. Some were brightly painted, and shone with
silver and gold and green, but most were either white or grey. Three small
grey boats had been made ready for the travellers, and in these the Elves
stowed their goods. And they added also coils of rope, three to each boat.
Slender they looked, but strong, silken to the touch, grey of hue like the
elven-cloaks.
`What are these? ' asked Sam, handling one that lay upon the
greensward.
`Ropes indeed! ' answered an Elf from the boats. 'Never travel far
without a rope! And one that is long and strong and light. Such are these.
They may be a help in many needs.'
'You don't need to tell me that! ' said Sam. `I came without any and
I've been worried ever since. But I was wondering what these were made of,
knowing a bit about rope-making: it's in the family as you might say.'
`They are made of hithlain,' said the Elf, `but there is no time now to
instruct you in the art of their making. Had we known that this craft
delighted you, we could have taught you much. But now alas! unless you
should at some time return hither, you must be content with our gift. May it
serve you well! '
`Come! ' said Haldir. `All is now ready for you. Enter the boats! But
take care at first! '
'Heed the words! ' said the other Elves. 'These boats are light-built,
and they are crafty and unlike the boats of other folk. They will not sink,
lade them as you will; but they are wayward if mishandled. It would be wise
if you accustomed yourselves to stepping in and out, here where there is a
landing-place, before you set off downstream.'
The Company was arranged in this way: Aragorn, Frodo, and Sam were in
one boat; Boromir, Merry, and Pippin in another; and in the third were
Legolas and Gimli, who had now become fast friends. In this last boat most
of the goods and packs were stowed. The boats were moved and steered with
short-handled paddles that had broad leaf-shaped blades. When all was ready
Aragorn led them on a trial up the Silverlode. The current was swift and
they went forward slowly. Sam sat in the bows, clutching the sides, and
looking back wistfully to the shore. The sunlight glittering on the water
dazzled his eyes. As they passed beyond the green field of the Tongue, the
trees drew down to the river's brink. Here and there golden leaves tossed
and floated on the rippling stream. The air was very bright and still, and
there was a silence, except for the high distant song of larks.
They turned a sharp bend in the river, and there, sailing proudly down
the stream toward them, they saw a swan of great size. The water rippled on
either side of the white breast beneath its curving neck. Its beak shone
like burnished gold, and its eyes glinted like jet set in yellow stones; its
huge white wings were half lifted. A music came down the river as it drew
nearer; and suddenly they perceived that it was a ship, wrought and carved
with elven-skill in the likeness of a bird. Two elves clad in white steered
it with black paddles. In the midst of the vessel sat Celeborn, and behind
him stood Galadriel, tall and white; a circlet of golden flowers was in her
hair, and in her hand she held a harp, and she sang. Sad and sweet was the
sound of her voice in the cool clear air:
I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:
Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew.
Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,
And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.
Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,
In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.
There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years,
While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.
O Lurien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;
The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.
O Lurien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore
And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.
But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,
What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?
Aragorn stayed his boat as the Swan-ship drew alongside. The Lady ended
her song and greeted them. `We have come to bid you our last farewell,' she
said, `and to speed you with blessings from our land.'
`Though you have been our guests,' said Celeborn, `you have not yet
eaten with us, and we bid you, therefore, to a parting feast, here between
the flowing waters that will bear you far from Lurien.'
The Swan passed on slowly to the hythe, and they turned their boats and
followed it. There in the last end of Egladil upon the green grass the
parting feast was held; but Frodo ate and drank little, heeding only the
beauty of the Lady and her voice. She seemed no longer perilous or terrible,
nor filled with hidden power. Already she seemed to him, as by men of later
days Elves still at times are seen: present and yet remote, a living vision
of that which has already been left far behind by the flowing streams of
Time.
After they had eaten and drunk, sitting upon the grass, Celeborn spoke
to them again of their journey, and lifting his hand he pointed south to the
woods beyond the Tongue.
`As you go down the water,' he said, `you will find that the trees will
fail, and you will come to a barren country. There the River flows in stony
vale amid high moors, until at last after many leagues it comes to the tall
island of the Tindrock, that we call Tol Brandir. There it casts its arms
about the steep shores of the isle, and falls then with a great noise and
smoke over the cataracts of Rauros down into the Nindalf, the Wetwang as it
is called in your tongue. That is a wide region of sluggish fen where the
stream becomes tortuous and much divided. There the Entwash flows in by
many
mouths from the Forest of Fangorn in the west. About that stream, on this
side of the Great River, lies Rohan. On the further side are the bleak hills
of the Emyn Muil. The wind blows from the East there, for they look out over
the Dead Marshes and the Noman-lands to Cirith Gorgor and the black gates of
Mordor.
'Boromir, and any that go with him seeking Minas Tirith, will do well
to leave the Great River above Rauros and cross the Entwash before it finds
the marshes. Yet they should not go too far up that stream, nor risk
becoming entangled in the Forest of Fangorn. That is a strange land, and is
now little known. But Boromir and Aragorn doubtless do not need this
warning.'
'Indeed we have heard of Fangorn in Minas Tirith,' said Boromir. `But
what I have heard seems to me for the most part old wives' tales, such as we
tell to our children. All that lies north of Rohan is now to us so far away
that fancy can wander freely there. Of old Fangorn lay upon the borders of
our realm; but it is now many lives of men since any of us visited it, to
prove or disprove the legends that have come down from distant years.
`I have myself been at whiles in Rohan, but I have never crossed it
northwards. When I was sent out as a messenger, I passed through the Gap by
the skirts of the White Mountains, and crossed the Isen and the Greyflood
into Northerland. A long and wearisome journey. Four hundred leagues I
reckoned it, and it took me many months; for I lost my horse at Tharbad, at
the fording of the Greyflood. After that journey, and the road I have
trodden with this Company, I do not much doubt that I shall find a way
through Rohan, and Fangorn too, if need be.'
`Then I need say no more,' said Celeborn. 'But do not despise the lore
that has come down from distant years; for oft it may chance that old wives
keep in memory word of things that once were needful for the wise to know.'
Now Galadriel rose from the grass, and taking a cup from one of her
maidens she filled it with white mead and gave it to Celeborn.
'Now it is time to drink the cup of farewell,' she said. `Drink, Lord
of the Galadhrim! And let not your heart be sad though night must follow
noon, and already our evening draweth nigh.'
Then she brought the cup to each of the Company, and bade them drink
and farewell. But when they had drunk she commanded them to sit again on the
grass, and chairs were set for her and for Celeborn. Her maidens stood
silent about her, and a while she looked upon her guests. At last she spoke
again.
'We have drunk the cup of parting,' she said, `and the shadows fall
between us. But before you go, I have brought in my ship gifts which the
Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim now offer you in memory of Lothlurien.'
Then
she called to each in turn.
`Here is the gift of Celeborn and Galadriel to the leader of your
Company,' she said to Aragorn, and she gave him a sheath that had been made
to fit his sword. It was overlaid with a tracery of flowers and leaves
wrought of silver and gold, and on it were set in elven runes formed of many
gems the name And®ril and the lineage of the sword.
`The blade that is drawn from this sheath shall not be stained or
broken even in defeat,' she said. `But is there aught else that you desire
of me at our parting? For darkness will flow between us, and it may be that
we shall not meet again, unless it be far hence upon a road that has no
returning.'
And Aragorn answered: 'Lady, you know all my desire, and long held in
keeping the only treasure that I seek. Yet it is not yours to give me, even
if you would; and only through darkness shall I come to it.'
`Yet maybe this will lighten your heart,' said Galadriel; `for it was
left in my care to be given to you, should you pass through this land.' Then
she lifted from her lap a great stone of a clear green, set in a silver
brooch that was wrought in the likeness of an eagle with outspread wings;
and as she held it up the gem flashed like the sun shining through the
leaves of spring. `This stone I gave to Celebrnan my daughter, and she to
hers; and now it comes to you as a token of hope. In this hour take the name
that was foretold for you, Elessar, the Elfstone of the house of Elendil! '
Then Aragorn took the stone and pinned the brooch upon his breast, and
those who saw him wondered; for they had not marked before how tall and
kingly he stood, and it seemed to them that many years of toil had fallen
from his shoulders. `For the gifts that you have given me I thank you,' he
said, 'O Lady of Lurien of whom were sprung Celebrnan and Arwen
Evenstar.
What praise could I say more? '
The Lady bowed her head, and she turned then to Boromir, and to him she
gave a belt of gold; and to Merry and Pippin she gave small silver belts,
each with a clasp wrought like a golden flower. To Legolas she gave a bow
such as the Galadhrim used, longer and stouter than the bows of Mirkwood,
and strung with a string of elf-hair. With it went a quiver of arrows.
`For you little gardener and lover of trees,' she said to Sam, `I have
only a small gift.' She put into his hand a little box of plain grey wood,
unadorned save for a single silver rune upon the lid. `Here is set G for
Galadriel,' she said; `but also it may stand for garden in your tongue. In
this box there is earth from my orchard, and such blessing as Galadriel has
still to bestow is upon it. It will not keep you on your road, nor defend
you against any peril; but if you keep it and see your home again at last,
then perhaps it may reward you. Though you should find all barren and laid
waste, there will be few gardens in Middle-earth that will bloom like your
garden, if you sprinkle this earth there. Then you may remember Galadriel,
and catch a glimpse far off of Lurien, that you have seen only in our
winter. For our spring and our summer are gone by, and they will never be
seen on earth again save in memory.'
Sam went red to the ears and muttered something inaudible, as he
clutched the box and bowed as well as he could.
`And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves? ' said Galadriel turning
to Gimli.
`None, Lady,' answered Gimli. `It is enough for me to have seen the
Lady of the Galadhrim, and to have heard her gentle words.'
`Hear all ye Elves! ' she cried to those about her. `Let none say again
that Dwarves are grasping and ungracious! Yet surely, Gimli son of Gluin,
you desire something that I could give? Name it, I bid you! You shall not be
the only guest without a gift.'
`There is nothing, Lady Galadriel,' said Gimli, bowing low and
stammering. `Nothing, unless it might be-unless it is permitted to ask. nay,
to name a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth
as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But
you commanded me to name my desire.'
The Elves stirred and murmured with astonishment, and Celeborn gazed at
the Dwarf in wonder, but the Lady smiled. 'It is said that the skill of the
Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues ' she said; `yet that
is not true of Gimli. For none have ever made to me a request so bold and
yet so courteous. And how shall I refuse, since I commanded him to speak?
But tell me, what would you do with such a gift? '
`Treasure it, Lady,' he answered, `in memory of your words to me at our
first meeting. And if ever I return to the smithies of my home, it shall be
set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house, and a pledge of
good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days.'
Then the Lady unbraided one of her long tresses, and cut off three
golden hairs, and laid them in Gimli's hand. `These words shall go with the
gift,' she said. `I do not foretell, for all foretelling is now vain: on the
one hand lies darkness, and on the other only hope. But if hope should not
fail, then I say to you, Gimli son of Gluin, that your hands shall flow with
gold, and yet over you gold shall have no dominion.
`And you, Ring-bearer,' she said, turning to Frodo. `I come to you last
who are not last in my thoughts. For you I have prepared this.' She held up
a small crystal phial: it glittered as she moved it, and rays of white light
sprang from her hand. 'In this phial,' she said, `is caught the light of
Edrendil's star, set amid the waters of my fountain. It will shine still
brighter when night is about you. May it be a light to you in dark places,
when all other lights go out. Remember Galadriel and her Mirror! '
Frodo took the phial, and for a moment as it shone between them, he saw
her again standing like a queen, great and beautiful, but no longer
terrible. He bowed, but found no words to say.
Now the Lady arose, and Celeborn led them back to the hythe. A yellow
noon lay on the green land of the Tongue, and the water glittered with
silver. All at last was made ready. The Company took their places in the
boats as before. Crying farewell, the Elves of Lurien with long grey poles
thrust them out into the flowing stream, and the rippling waters bore them
slowly away. The travellers sat still without moving or speaking. On the
green bank near to the very point of the Tongue the Lady Galadriel stood
alone and silent. As they passed her they turned and their eyes watched her
slowly floating away from them. For so it seemed to them: Lurien was
slipping backward, like a bright ship masted with enchanted trees, sailing
on to forgotten shores, while they sat helpless upon the margin of the grey
and leafless world.
Even as they gazed, the Silverlode passed out into the currents of the
Great River, and their boats turned and began to speed southwards. Soon the
white form of the Lady was small and distant. She shone like a window of
glass upon a far hill in the westering sun, or as a remote lake seen from a
mountain: a crystal fallen in the lap of the land. Then it seemed to Frodo
that she lifted her arms in a final farewell, and far but piercing-clear on
the following wind came the sound of her voice singing. But now she sang in
the ancient tongue of the Elves beyond the Sea, and he did not understand
the words: fair was the music, but it did not comfort him.
Yet as is the way of Elvish words, they remained graven in his memory,
and long afterwards he interpreted them, as well as he could: the language
was that of Elven-song and spoke of things little known on Middle-earth.
Ai! lauril lantar lassi s®rinen,
Yjni ®nutiml ve rbmar aldaron!
Yjni ve lintl yuldar avbnier
mi oromardi lisse-miruvureva
And®nl pella, Vardo tellumar
nu luini yassen tintilar i eleni
umaryo airetbri-lnrinen.
Sn man i yulma nin enquantuva?
An sn Tintalll Varda Oiolosslo
ve fanyar mbryat Elentbri ortanl
ar ilyl tier undulbvl lumbull;
ar sindanuriello caita mornil
i falmalinnar imbl met, ar hnsil
unt®pa Calaciryo mnri oiall.
Si vanwa nb, Rumello vanwa, Valimar!
Nambril! Nai hiruvalyl Valimar.
Nai elyl hiruva. Nambril!
`Ah! like gold fall the leaves in the wind, long years numberless as
the wings of trees! The long years have passed like swift draughts of the
sweet mead in lofty halls beyond the West, beneath the blue vaults of Varda
wherein the stars tremble in the song of her voice, holy and queenly. Who
now shall refill the cup for me? For now the Kindler, Varda, the Queen of
the Stars, from Mount Everwhite has uplifted her hands like clouds, and all
paths are drowned deep in shadow; and out of a grey country darkness lies on
the foaming waves between us, and mist covers the jewels of Calacirya for
ever. Now lost, lost to those from the East is Valimar! Farewell! Maybe thou
shalt find Valimar. Maybe even thou shalt find it. Farewell! ' Varda is the
name of that Lady whom the Elves in these lands of exile name Elbereth.
Suddenly the River swept round a bend, and the banks rose upon either
side, and the light of Lurien was hidden. To that fair land Frodo never came
again.
The travellers now turned their faces to the journey; the sun was
before them, and their eyes were dazzled, for all were filled with tears.
Gimli wept openly.
`I have looked the last upon that which was fairest,' he said to
Legolas his companion. `Henceforward I will call nothing fair, unless it be
her gift.' He put his hand to his breast.
`Tell me, Legolas, why did I come on this Quest? Little did I know
where the chief peril lay! Truly Elrond spoke, saying that we could not
foresee what we might meet upon our road. Torment in the dark was the danger
that I feared, and it did not hold me back. But I would not have come, had I
known the danger of light and joy. Now I have taken my worst wound in this
parting, even if I were to go this night straight to the Dark Lord. Alas for
Gimli son of Gluin! '
`Nay! ' said Legolas. `Alas for us all! And for all that walk the world
in these after-days. For such is the way of it: to find and lose, as it
seems to those whose boat is on the running stream. But I count you blessed,
Gimli son of Gluin: for your loss you suffer of your own free will, and you
might have chosen otherwise. But you have not forsaken your companions,
and
the least reward that you shall have is that the memory of Lothlurien shall
remain ever clear and unstained in your heart, and shall neither fade nor
grow stale.'
`Maybe,' said Gimli; `and I thank you for your words. True words
doubtless; yet all such comfort is cold. Memory is not what the heart
desires. That is only a mirror, be it clear as Kheled-zvram. Or so says the
heart of Gimli the Dwarf. Elves may see things otherwise. Indeed I have
heard that for them memory is more like to the waking world than to a dream.
Not so for Dwarves.
'But let us talk no more of it. Look to the boat! She is too low in the
water with all this baggage, and the Great River is swift. I do not wish to
drown my grief in cold water.' He took up a paddle, and steered towards the
western bank, following Aragorn's boat ahead, which had already moved out of
the middle stream.
So the Company went on their long way, down the wide hurrying waters,
borne ever southwards. Bare woods stalked along either bank, and they could
not see any glimpse of the lands behind. The breeze died away and the River
flowed without a sound. No voice of bird broke the silence. The sun grew
misty as the day grew old, until it gleamed in a pale sky like a high white
pearl. Then it faded into the West, and dusk came early, followed by a grey
and starless night. Far into the dark quiet hours they floated on, guiding
their boats under the overhanging shadows of the western woods. Great trees
passed by like ghosts, thrusting their twisted thirsty roots through the
mist down into the water. It was dreary and cold. Frodo sat and listened to
the faint lap and gurgle of the River fretting among the tree-roots and
driftwood near the shore, until his head nodded and he fell into an uneasy
sleep.
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The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 01 - A Long-expected Party (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 02 - The Shadow of the Past (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 03 - Three is Company (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 04 - A Short Cut to Mushrooms (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 05 - A Conspiracy Unmasked (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 06 - The Old Forest (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 07 - In the House of Tom Bombadil (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 08 - Fog on the Barrow-Downs (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 09 - At the Sign of The Prancing Pony (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 10 - Strider (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 12 - Flight to the Ford (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 13 - Many Meetings (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 14 - The Council of Elrond (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 15 - The Ring Goes South (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 16 - The Bridge of Khazad-dym (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 17 - Lothlurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 18 - The Mirror of Galadriel (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 19 - Farewell to Lurien (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 20 - The Great River (1)
The Fellowship Of The Ring - Chapter 21 - The Breaking of the Fellowship (1)


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FOREWORD

The Silmarillion, now published four years after the death of its author, is an account of the Elder Days, or the First Age of the World. In The Lord of the Rings were narrated the great events at the end of the Third Age; but the tales of The Silmarillion are legends deriving from a much deeper past, when Morgoth, the first Dark Lord, dwelt in Middle-earth, and the High Elves made war upon him for the recovery of the Silmarils.

Not only, however, does The Silmarillion relate the events of a far earlier time than those of The Lord of the Rings; it is also, in all the essentials of its conception, far the earlier work. Indeed, although it was not then called The Silmarillion, it was already in being half a century ago; and in battered notebooks extending back to 1917 can still be read the earliest versions, often hastily pencilled, of the central stories of the mythology. But it was never published (though some indication of its content could be gleaned from The Lord of the Rings), and throughout my father's long life he never abandoned it, nor ceased even in his last years to work on it. In all that time The Silmarillion, considered simply as a large narrative structure, underwent relatively little radical change; it became long ago a fixed tradition, and background to later writings. But it was far indeed from being a fixed text, and did not remain unchanged even in certain fundamental ideas concerning the nature of the world it portrays; while the same legends came to be retold in longer and shorter forms, and in different styles. As the years passed the changes and variants, both in detail and in larger perspectives, became so complex, so pervasive, and so many-layered that a final and definitive version seemed unattainable. Moreover the old legends ('old' now not only in their derivation from the remote First Age, but also in terms of my father's life) became the vehicle and depository of his profoundest reflections. In his later writing mythology and poetry sank down behind his theological and philosophical preoccupations: from which arose incompatibilities of tone.

On my father's death it fell to me to try to bring the work into publishable form. It became clear to me that to attempt to present, within the covers of a single book the diversity of the materials - to show The Silmarillion as in truth a continuing and evolving creation extending over more than half a century - would in fact lead only to confusion and the submerging of what is essential I set myself therefore to work out a single text selecting and arranging in such a way as seemed to me to produce the most coherent and internally self-consistent narrative. In this work the concluding chapters (from the death of Túrin Turambar) introduced peculiar difficulties, in that they had remained unchanged for many years, and were in some respects in serious disharmony with more developed conceptions in other parts of the book.

A complete consistency (either within the compass of The Silmarillion itself or between The Silmarillion and other published writings of my father's) is not to be looked for, and could only be achieved, if at all at heavy and needless cost. Moreover, my father came to conceive The Silmarillion as a compilation, a compendious narrative, made long afterwards from sources of great diversity (poems, and annals, and oral tales) that had survived in agelong tradition; and this conception has indeed its parallel in the actual history of the book, for a great deal of earlier prose and poetry does underlie it, and it is to some extent a compendium in fact and not only in theory. To this may be ascribed the varying speed of the narrative and fullness of detail in different parts, the contrast (for example) of the precise recollections of place and motive in the legend of Túrin Turambar beside the high and remote account of the end of the First Age, when Thangorodrim was broken and Morgoth overthrown; and also some differences of tone and portrayal, some obscurities, and, here and there, some lack of cohesion. In the case of the Valaquenta, for instance, we have to assume that while it contains much that must go back to the earliest days of the Eldar in Valinor, it was remodelled in later times; and thus explain its continual shifting of tense and viewpoint, so that the divine powers seem now present and active in the world, now remote, a vanished order known only to memory.

The book, though entitled as it must be The Silmarillion, contains not only the Quenta Silmarillion, or Silmarillion proper, but also four other short works. The Ainulindalë and Valaquenta, which are given at the beginning, are indeed closely related with The Silmarillion; but the Akallabêth and Of the Rings of Power, which appear at the end, are (it must to emphasised) wholly separate and independent. They are included according to my father's explicit intention; and by their inclusion is set forth the entire history is set forth from the Music of the Ainur in which the world began to the passing of the Ringbearers from the havens of Mithlond at the end of the Third Age.

The number of names that occur in the book is very large, and I have provided a full index; but the number of persons (Elves and Men) who play an important part in the narrative of the First Age is very much smaller, and all of these will be found in the genealogical tables. In addition I have provided a table setting out the rather complex naming of the different Elvish peoples; a note on the pronunciation of Elvish names, and a list of some of the chief elements found in these names; and a map. It may be noted that the great mountain range in the east, Ered Luin or Ered Lindon, the Blue Mountains, appears in the extreme west of the map in The Lord of the Rings. In the body of the book there is a smaller map: the intention of this is to make clear at a glance where lay the kingdoms of the Elves after the return of the Noldor to Middle-earth. I have not burdened the book further with any sort of commentary or annotation. There is indeed a wealth of unpublished writing by my father concerning the Three Ages, narrative, linguistic, historical, and philosophical, and I hope that it will prove possible to publish some of this at a later date.

In the difficult and doubtful task of preparing the text of the book I was very greatly assisted by Guy Kay, who worked with me in 1974-1975.

Christopher Tolkien




AINULINDALË
The Music of the Ainur

There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Ilúvatar; and he made first the Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought, and they were with him before aught else was made. And he spoke to them, propounding to them themes of music; and they sang before him, and he was glad. But for a long while they sang only each alone, or but few together, while the rest hearkened; for each comprehended only that part of me mind of Ilúvatar from which he came, and in the understanding of their brethren they grew but slowly. Yet ever as they listened they came to deeper understanding, and increased in unison and harmony.

And it came to pass that Ilúvatar called together all the Ainur and declared to them a mighty theme, unfolding to them things greater and more wonderful than he had yet revealed; and the glory of its beginning and the splendour of its end amazed the Ainur, so that they bowed before Ilúvatar and were silent.

Then Ilúvatar said to them: 'Of the theme that I have declared to you, I will now that ye make in harmony together a Great Music. And since I have kindled you with the Flame Imperishable, ye shall show forth your powers in adorning this theme, each with his own thoughts and devices, if he will. But I win sit and hearken, and be glad that through you great beauty has been wakened into song.'

Then the voices of the Ainur, like unto harps and lutes, and pipes and trumpets, and viols and organs, and like unto countless choirs singing with words, began to fashion the theme of Ilúvatar to a great music; and a sound arose of endless interchanging melodies woven in harmony that passed beyond hearing into the depths and into the heights, and the places of the dwelling of Ilúvatar were filled to overflowing, and the music and the echo of the music went out into the Void, and it was not void. Never since have the Ainur made any music like to this music, though it has been said that a greater still shall be made before Ilúvatar by the choirs of the Ainur and the Children of Ilúvatar after the end of days. Then the themes of Ilúvatar shall be played aright, and take Being in the moment of their utterance, for all shall then understand fully his intent in their part, and each shall know the comprehension of each, and Ilúvatar shall give to their thoughts the secret fire, being well pleased.

But now Ilúvatar sat and hearkened, and for a great while it seemed good to him, for in the music there were no flaws. But as the theme progressed, it came into the heart of Melkor to interweave matters of his own imagining that were not in accord with the theme of Ilúvatar, for he sought therein to increase the power and glory of the part assigned to himself. To Melkor among the Ainur had been given the greatest gifts of power and knowledge, and he had a share in all the gifts of his brethren. He had gone often alone into the void places seeking the Imperishable Flame; for desire grew hot within him to bring into Being things of his own, and it seemed to him that Ilúvatar took no thought for the Void, and he was impatient of its emptiness. Yet he found not the Fire, for it is with Ilúvatar. But being alone he had begun to conceive thoughts of his own unlike those of his brethren.

Some of these thoughts he now wove into his music, and straightway discord arose about him, and many that sang nigh him grew despondent, and their thought was disturbed and their music faltered; but some began to attune their music to his rather than to the thought which they had at first. Then the discord of Melkor spread ever wider, and the melodies which had been heard before foundered in a sea of turbulent sound. But Ilúvatar sat and hearkened until it seemed that about his throne there was a raging storm, as of dark waters that made war one upon another in an endless wrath that would not be assuaged.

Then Ilúvatar arose, and the Ainur perceived that he smiled; and he lifted up his left hand, and a new theme began amid the storm, like and yet unlike to the former theme, and it gathered power and had new beauty. But the discord of Melkor rose in uproar and contended with it, and again there was a war of sound more violent than before, until many of the Ainur were dismayed and sang no longer, and Melkor had the mastery. Then again Ilúvatar arose, and the Ainur perceived that his countenance was stern; and he lifted up his right hand, and behold! a third theme grew amid the confusion, and it was unlike the others. For it seemed at first soft and sweet, a mere rippling of gentle sounds in delicate melodies; but it could not be quenched, and it took to itself power and profundity. And it seemed at last that there were two musics progressing at one time before the seat of Ilúvatar, and they were utterly at variance. The one was deep and wide and beautiful, but slow and blended with an immeasurable sorrow, from which its beauty chiefly came. The other had now achieved a unity of its own; but it was loud, and vain, and endlessly repeated; and it had little harmony, but rather a clamorous unison as of many trumpets braying upon a few notes. And it essayed to drown the other music by the violence of its voice, but it seemed that its most triumphant notes were taken by the other and woven into its own solemn pattern.

In the midst of this strife, whereat the halls of Ilúvatar shook and a tremor ran out into the silences yet unmoved, Ilúvatar arose a third time, and his face was terrible to behold. Then he raised up both his hands, and in one chord, deeper than the Abyss, higher than the Firmament, piercing as the light of the eye of Ilúvatar, the Music ceased.

Then Ilúvatar spoke, and he said: 'Mighty are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor; but that he may know, and all the Ainur, that I am Ilúvatar, those things that ye have sung, I will show them forth, that ye may see what ye have done. And thou, Melkor, shalt see that no theme may be played that hath not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempteth this shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined.'

Then the Ainur were afraid, and they did not yet comprehend the words that were said to them; and Melkor was filled with shame, of which came secret anger. But Ilúvatar arose in splendour, and he went forth from the fair regions that he had made for the Ainur; and the Ainur followed him.

But when they were come into the Void, Ilúvatar said to them: 'Behold your Music!' And he showed to them a vision, giving to them sight where before was only hearing; arid they saw a new World made visible before them, and it was globed amid the Void, and it was sustained therein, but was not of it. And as they looked and wondered this World began to unfold its history, and it seemed to them that it lived and grew. And when the Ainur had gazed for a while and were silent, Ilúvatar said again: 'Behold your Music! This is your minstrelsy; and each of you shall find contained herein, amid the design that I set before you, all those things which it may seem that he himself devised or added. And thou, Melkor, wilt discover all the secret thoughts of thy mind, and wilt perceive that they are but a part of the whole and tributary to its glory.'

And many other things Ilúvatar spoke to the Ainur at that time, and because of their memory of his words, and the knowledge that each has of the music that he himself made, the Ainur know much of what was, and is, and is to come, and few things are unseen by them. Yet some things there are that they cannot see, neither alone nor taking counsel together; for to none but himself has Ilúvatar revealed all that he has in store, and in every age there come forth things that are new and have no foretelling, for they do not proceed from the past. And so it was that as this vision of the World was played before them, the Ainur saw that it contained things which they had not thought. And they saw with amazement the coming of the Children of Ilúvatar, and the habitation that was prepared for them; and they perceived that they themselves in the labour of their music had been busy with the preparation of this dwelling, and yet knew not that it had any purpose beyond its own beauty. For the Children of Ilúvatar were conceived by him alone; and they came with the third theme, and were not in the theme which Ilúvatar propounded at the beginning, and none of the Ainur had part in their making. Therefore when they beheld them, the more did they love them, being things other than themselves, strange and free, wherein they saw the mind of Ilúvatar reflected anew, and learned yet a little more of his wisdom, which otherwise had been hidden even from the Ainur.

Now the Children of Ilúvatar are Elves and Men, the Firstborn and the Followers. And amid all the splendours of the World, its vast halls and spaces, and its wheeling fires, Ilúvatar chose a place for their habitation in the Deeps of Time and in the midst of the innumerable stars. And this habitation might seem a little thing to those who consider only the majesty of the Ainur, and not their terrible sharpness; as who should take the whole field of Arda for the foundation of a pillar and so raise it until the cone of its summit were more bitter than a needle; or who consider only the immeasurable vastness of the World, which still the Ainur are shaping, and not the minute precision to which they shape all things therein. But when the Ainur had beheld this habitation in a vision and had seen the Children of Ilúvatar arise therein, then many of the most mighty among them bent all their thought and their desire towards that place. And of these Melkor was the chief, even as he was in the beginning the greatest of the Ainur who took part in the Music. And he feigned, even to himself at first, that he desired to go thither and order all things for the good of the Children of Ilúvatar, controlling the turmoils of the heat and the cold that had come to pass through him. But he desired rather to subdue to his will both Elves and Men, envying the gifts with which Ilúvatar promised to endow them; and he wished himself to have subject and servants, and to be called Lord, and to be a master over other wills.

But the other Ainur looked upon this habitation set within the vast spaces of the World, which the Elves call Arda, the Earth; and their hearts rejoiced in light, and their eyes beholding many colours were filled with gladness; but because of the roaring of the sea they felt a great unquiet. And they observed the winds and the air, and the matters of which Arda was made, of iron and stone and silver and gold and many substances: but of all these water they most greatly praised. And it is said by the Eldar that in water there lives yet the echo of the Music of the Ainur more than in any substance else that is in this Earth; and many of the Children of Ilúvatar hearken still unsated to the voices of the Sea, and yet know not for what they listen.

Now to water had that Ainu whom the Elves can Ulmo turned his thought, and of all most deeply was he instructed by Ilúvatar in music. But of the airs and winds Manwë most had pondered, who is the noblest of the Ainur. Of the fabric of Earth had Aulë thought, to whom Ilúvatar had given skin and knowledge scarce less than to Melkor; but the delight and pride of Aulë is in the deed of making, and in the thing made, and neither in possession nor in his own mastery; wherefore he gives and hoards not, and is free from care, passing ever on to some new work.

And Ilúvatar spoke to Ulmo, and said: 'Seest thou not how here in this little realm in the Deeps of Time Melkor hath made war upon thy province? He hath bethought him of bitter cold immoderate, and yet hath not destroyed the beauty of thy fountains, nor of my clear pools. Behold the snow, and the cunning work of frost! Melkor hath devised heats and fire without restraint, and hath not dried up thy desire nor utterly quelled the music of the sea. Behold rather the height and glory of the clouds, and the everchanging mists; and listen to the fall of rain upon the Earth! And in these clouds thou art drawn nearer to Manwë, thy friend, whom thou lovest.'

Then Ulmo answered: 'Truly, Water is become now fairer than my heart imagined, neither had my secret thought conceived the snowflake, nor in all my music was contained the falling of the rain. I will seek Manwë, that he and I may make melodies for ever to my delight!' And Manwë and Ulmo have from the beginning been allied, and in all things have served most faithfully the purpose of Ilúvatar.

But even as Ulmo spoke, and while the Ainur were yet gazing upon this vision, it was taken away and hidden from their sight; and it seemed to them that in that moment they perceived a new thing, Darkness, which they had not known before except in thought. But they had become enamoured of the beauty of the vision and engrossed in the unfolding of the World which came there to being, and their minds were filled with it; for the history was incomplete and the circles of time not full-wrought when the vision was taken away. And some have said that the vision ceased ere the fulfilment of the Dominion of Men and the fading of the Firstborn; wherefore, though the Music is over all, the Valar have not seen as with sight the Later Ages or the ending of the World.

Then there was unrest among the Ainur; but Ilúvatar called to them, and said: 'I know the desire of your minds that what ye have seen should verily be, not only in your thought, but even as ye yourselves are, and yet other. Therefore I say: Eä! Let these things Be! And I will send forth into the Void the Flame Imperishable, and it shall be at the heart of the World, and the World shall Be; and those of you that will may go down into it. And suddenly the Ainur saw afar off a light, as it were a cloud with a living heart of flame; and they knew that this was no vision only, but that Ilúvatar had made a new thing: Eä, the World that Is.

Thus it came to pass that of the Ainur some abode still with Ilúvatar beyond the confines of the World; but others, and among them many of the greatest and most fair, took the leave of Ilúvatar and descended into it. But this condition Ilúvatar made, or it is the necessity of their love, that their power should thenceforward be contained and bounded in the World, to be within it for ever, until it is complete, so that they are its life and it is theirs. And therefore they are named the Valar, the Powers of the World.

But when the Valar entered into Eä they were at first astounded and at a loss, for it was as if naught was yet made which they had seen in vision, and all was but on point to begin and yet unshaped, and it was dark. For the Great Music had been but the growth and flowering of thought in the Tuneless Halls, and the Vision only a foreshowing; but now they had entered in at the beginning of Time, and the Valar perceived that the World had been but foreshadowed and foresung, and they must achieve it. So began their great labours in wastes unmeasured and unexplored, and in ages uncounted and forgotten, until in the Deeps of Time and in the midst of the vast halls of Eä there came to be that hour and that place where was made the habitation of the Children of Ilúvatar. And in this work the chief part was taken by Manwë and Aulë and Ulmo; but Melkor too was there from the first, and he meddled in all that was done, turning it if he might to his own desires and purposes; and he kindled great fires. When therefore Earth was yet young and full of flame Melkor coveted it, and he said to the other Valar: 'This shall be my own kingdom; and I name it unto myself!'

But Manwë was the brother of Melkor in the mind of Ilúvatar, and he was the chief instrument of the second theme that Ilúvatar had raised up against the discord of Melkor; and he called unto himself many spirits both greater and less, and they came down into the fields of Arda and aided Manwë, lest Melkor should hinder the fulfilment of their labour for ever, and Earth should wither ere it flowered. And Manwë said unto Melkor: 'This kingdom thou shalt not take for thine own, wrongfully, for many others have laboured here do less than thou.' And there was strife between Melkor and the other Valar; and for that time Melkor withdrew and departed to other regions and did there what he would; but he did not put the desire of the Kingdom of Arda from his heart.

Now the Valar took to themselves shape and hue; and because they were drawn into the World by love of the Children of Ilúvatar, for whom they hoped, they took shape after that manner which they had beheld in the Vision of Ilúvatar, save only in majesty and splendour. Moreover their shape comes of their knowledge of the visible World, rather than of the World itself; and they need it not, save only as we use raiment, and yet we may be naked and suffer no loss of our being. Therefore the Valar may walk, if they will, unclad, and then even the Eldar cannot clearly perceive them, though they be present. But when they desire to clothe themselves the Valar take upon them forms some as of male and some as of female; for that difference of temper they had even from their beginning, and it is but bodied forth in the choice of each, not made by the choice, even as with us male and female may be shown by the raiment but is not made thereby. But the shapes wherein the Great Ones array themselves are not at all times like to the shapes of the kings and queens of the Children of Ilúvatar; for at times they may clothe themselves in their own thought, made visible in forms of majesty and dread.

And the Valar drew unto them many companions, some less, some well nigh as great as themselves, and they laboured together in the ordering of the Earth and the curbing of its tumults. Then Melkor saw what was done, and that the Valar walked on Earth as powers visible, clad in the raiment of the World, and were lovely and glorious to see, and blissful, and that the Earth was becoming as a garden for their delight, for its turmoils were subdued. His envy grew then the greater within him; and he also took visible form, but because of his mood and the malice that burned in him that form was dark and terrible. And he descended upon Arda in power and majesty greater than any other of the Valar, as a mountain that wades in the sea and has its head above the clouds and is clad in ice and crowned with smoke and fire; and the light of the eyes of Melkor was like a flame that withers with heat and pierces with a deadly cold.

Thus began the first battle of the Valar with Melkor for the dominion of Arda; and of those tumults the Elves know but little. For what has here been declared is come from the Valar themselves, with whom the Eldalië spoke in the land of Valinor, and by whom they were instructed; but little would the Valar ever tell of the wars before the coming of the Elves. Yet it is told among the Eldar that the Valar endeavoured ever, in despite of Melkor, to rule the Earth and to prepare it for the coming of the Firstborn; and they built lands and Melkor destroyed them; valleys they delved and Melkor raised them up; mountains they carved and Melkor threw them down; seas they hollowed and Melkor spilled them; and naught might have peace or come to lasting growth, for as surely as the Valar began a labour so would Melkor undo it or corrupt it. And yet their labour was not all in vain; and though nowhere and in no work was their will and purpose wholly fulfilled, and all things were in hue and shape other than the Valar had at first intended, slowly nonetheless the Earth was fashioned and made firm. And thus was the habitation of the Children of Ilúvatar established at the last in the Deeps of Time and amidst the innumerable stars.




VALAQUENTA
Account of the Valar and Maiar according to the lore of the Eldar

In the beginning Eru, the One, who in the Elvish tongue is named Ilúvatar, made the Ainur of his thought; and they made a great Music before him. In this Music the World was begun; for Ilúvatar made visible the song of the Ainur, and they beheld it as a light in the darkness. And many among them became enamoured of its beauty, and of its history which they saw beginning and unfolding as in a vision. Therefore Ilúvatar gave to their vision Being, and set it amid the Void, and the Secret Fire was sent to burn at the heart of the World; and it was called Eä.

Then those of the Ainur who desired it arose and entered into the World at the beginning of Time; and it was their task to achieve it, and by their labours to fulfil the vision which they had seen. Long they laboured in the regions of Eä, which are vast beyond the thought of Elves and Men, until in the time appointed was made Arda, the Kingdom of Earth. Then they put on the raiment of Earth and descended into it, and dwelt therein.
Of the Valar

The Great among these spirits the Elves name the Valar, the Powers of Arda, and Men have often called them gods. The Lords of the Valar are seven; and the Valier, the Queens of the Valar, are seven also. These were their names in the Elvish tongue as it was spoken in Valinor, though they have other names in the speech of the Elves in Middle-earth, and their names among Men are manifold. The names of the Lords in due order are: Manwë, Ulmo, Aulë, Oromë, Mandos, Lórien, and Tulkas; and the names of the Queens are: Varda, Yavanna, Nienna, Estë, Vairë, Vána, and Nessa. Melkor is counted no longer among the Valar, and his name is not spoken upon Earth.

Manwë and Melkor were brethren in the thought of Ilúvatar. The mightiest of those Ainur who came into the World was in his beginning Melkor; but Manwë is dearest to Ilúvatar and understands most clearly his purposes. He was appointed to be, in the fullness of time, the first of all Kings: lord of the realm of Arda and ruler of all that dwell therein. In Arda his delight is in the winds and the clouds, and in all the regions of the air, from the heights to the depths, from the utmost borders of the Veil of Arda to the breezes that blow in the grass. Súlimo he is surnamed, Lord of the Breath of Arda. All swift birds, strong of wing, he loves, and they come and go at his bidding.

With Manwë dwells Varda, Lady of the Stars, who knows all the regions of Eä. Too great is her beauty to be declared in the words of Men or of Elves; for the light of Ilúvatar lives still in her face. In light is her power and her joy. Out of the deeps of Eä she came to the aid of Manwë; for Melkor she knew from before the making of the Music and rejected him, and he hated her, and feared her more than all others whom Eru made. Manwë and Varda are seldom parted, and they remain in Valinor. Their halls are above the everlasting snow, upon Oiolossë, the uttermost tower of Taniquetil, tallest of all the mountains upon Earth. When Manwë there ascends his throne and looks forth, if Varda is beside him, he sees further than all other eyes, through mist, and through darkness, and over the leagues of the sea. And if Manwë is with her, Varda hears more clearly than all other ears the sound of voices that cry from east to west, from the hills and the valleys, and from the dark places that Melkor has made upon Earth. Of all the Great Ones who dwell in this world the Elves hold Varda most in reverence and love. Elbereth they name her, and they call upon her name out of the shadows of Middle-earth, and uplift it in song at the rising of the stars.

Ulmo is the Lord of Waters. He is alone. He dwells nowhere long, but moves as he will in all the deep waters about the Earth or under the Earth. He is next in might to Manwë, and before Valinor was made he was closest to him in friendship; but thereafter he went seldom to the councils of the Valar, unless great matters were in debate. For he kept all Arda in thought, and he has no need of any resting-place. Moreover he does not love to walk upon land, and will seldom clothe himself in a body after the manner of his peers. If the Children of Eru beheld him they were filled with a great dread; for the arising of the King of the Sea was terrible, as a mounting wave that strides to the land, with dark helm foam-crested and raiment of mail shimmering from silver down into shadows of green. The trumpets of Manwë are loud, but Ulmo's voice is deep as the deeps of the ocean which he only has seen.

Nonetheless Ulmo loves both Elves and Men, and never abandoned them, not even when they lay under the wrath of the Valar. At times he win come unseen to the shores of Middle-earth, or pass far inland up firths of the sea, and there make music upon his great horns, the Ulumúri, that are wrought of white shell; and those to whom that music comes hear it ever after in their hearts, and longing for the sea never leaves them again. But mostly Ulmo speaks to those who dwell in Middle-earth with voices that are heard only as the music of water. For all seas, lakes, rivers, fountains and springs are in his government; so that the Elves say that the spirit of Ulmo runs in all the veins of the world. Thus news comes to Ulmo, even in the deeps, of all the needs and griefs of Arda, which otherwise would be hidden from Manwë.

Aulë has might little less than Ulmo. His lordship is over all the substances of which Arda is made. In the beginning he wrought much in fellowship with Manwë and Ulmo; and the fashioning of all lands was his labour. He is a smith and a master of all crafts, and he delights in works of skill, however small, as much as in the mighty building of old. His are the gems that lie deep in the Earth and the gold that is fair in the hand, no less than the walls of the mountains and the basins of the sea. The Noldor learned most of him, and he was ever their friend. Melkor was jealous of him, for Aulë was most like himself in thought and in powers; and there was long strife between them, in which Melkor ever marred or undid the works of Aulë, and Aulë grew weary in repairing the tumults and disorders of Melkor. Both, also, desired to make things of their own that should be new and unthought of by others, and delighted in the praise of their skill. But Aulë remained faithful to Eru and submitted all that he did to his will; and he did not envy the works of others, but sought and gave counsel. Whereas Melkor spent his spirit in envy and hate, until at last he could make nothing save in mockery of the thought of others, and all their works he destroyed if he could.

The spouse of Aulë is Yavanna, the Giver of Fruits. She is the lover of all things that grow in the earth, and all their countless forms she holds in her mind, from the trees like towers in forests long ago to the moss upon stones or the small and secret things in the mould. In reverence Yavanna is next to Varda among the Queens of the Valar. In the form of a woman she is tall, and robed in green; but at times she takes other shapes. Some there are who have seen her standing like a tree under heaven, crowned with the Sun; and from all its branches there spilled a golden dew upon the barren earth, and it grew green with corn; but the roots of the tree were in the waters of Ulmo, and the winds of Manwë spoke in its leaves. Kementári, Queen of the Earth, she is surnamed in the Eldarin tongue.

The Fëanturi, masters of spirits, are brethren, and they are called most often Mandos and Lórien. Yet these are rightly the names of the places of their dwelling, and their true names are Námo and Irmo.

Námo the elder dwells in Mandos, which is westward in Valinor. He is the keeper of the Houses of the Dead, and the summoner of the spirits of the slain. He forgets nothing; and he knows all things that shall be, save only those that lie still in the freedom of Ilúvatar. He is the Doomsman of the Valar; but he pronounces his dooms and his Judgements only at the bidding of Manwë. Vairë the Weaver is his spouse, who weaves all things that have ever been in Time into her storied webs, and the halls of Mandos that ever widen as the ages pass are clothed with them.

Irmo the younger is the master of visions and dreams. In Lórien are his gardens in the land of the Valar, and they are the fairest of all places in the world, filled with many spirits. Estë the gentle, healer of hurts and of weariness, is his spouse. Grey is her raiment; and rest is her gift. She walks not by day, but sleeps upon an island in the tree-shadowed lake of Lórellin. From the fountains of Irmo and Estë all those who dwell in Valinor draw refreshment; and often the Valar come themselves to Lórien and there find repose and easing of the burden of Arda.

Mightier than Estë is Nienna, sister of the Fëanturi; she dwells alone. She is acquainted with grief, and mourns for every wound that Arda has suffered in the marring of Melkor. So great was her sorrow, as the Music unfolded, that her song turned to lamentation long before its end, and the sound of mourning was woven into the themes of the World before it began. But she does not weep for herself; and those who hearken to her learn pity, and endurance in hope. Her halls are west of West, upon the borders of the world; and she comes seldom to the city of Valimar where all is glad. She goes rather to the halls of Mandos, which are near to her own; and all those who wait in Mandos cry to her, for she brings strength to the spirit and turns sorrow to wisdom. The windows of her house look outward from the walls of the world.

Greatest in strength and deeds of prowess is Tulkas, who is surnamed Astaldo, the Valiant. He came last to Arda, to aid the Valar in the first battles with Melkor. He delights in wrestling and in contests of strength; and he rides no steed, for he can outrun all things that go on feet, and he is tireless. His hair and beard are golden, and his flesh ruddy; his weapons are his hands. He has little heed for either the past or the future, and is of no avail as a counsellor, but is a hardy friend. His spouse is Nessa, the sister of Oromë, and she also is lithe and fleetfooted. Deer she loves, and they follow her train whenever she goes in the wild; but she can outrun them, swift as an arrow with the wind in her hair. In dancing she delights, and she dances in Valimar on lawns of never-fading green.

Oromë is a mighty lord. If he is less strong than Tulkas, he is more dreadful in anger; whereas Tulkas laughs ever, in sport or in war, and even in the face of Melkor he laughed in battles before the Elves were born. Oromë loved the lands of Middle-earth, and he left them unwillingly and came last to Valinor; and often of old he passed back east over the mountains and returned with his host to the hills and the plains. He is a hunter of monsters and fell beasts, and he delights in horses and in hounds; and all trees he loves, for which reason he is called Aldaron, and by the Sindar Tauron, the Lord of Forests. Nahar is the name of his horse, white in the sun, and shining silver at night. The Valaróma is the name of his great horn, the sound of which is like the upgoing of the Sun in scarlet, or the sheer lightning cleaving the clouds. Above all the horns of his host it was heard in the woods that Yavanna brought forth in Valinor; for there Oromë would train his folk and his beasts for the pursuit of the evil creatures of Melkor. The spouse of Oromë is Vána, the Ever-young; she is the younger sister of Yavanna. All flowers spring as she passes and open if she glances upon them; and all birds sing at her coming.

These are the names of the Valar and the Valier, and here is told in brief their likenesses, such as the Eldar beheld them in Aman. But fair and noble as were the forms in which they were manifest to the Children of Ilúvatar, they were but a veil upon their beauty and their power. And if little is here said of all that the Eldar once knew, that is as nothing compared with their true being, which goes back into regions and ages far beyond our thought. Among them Nine were of chief power and reverence; but one is removed from their number, and Eight remain, the Aratar, the High Ones of Arda: Manwë and Varda, Ulmo, Yavanna and Aulë, Mandos, Nienna, and Oromë. Though Manwë is their King and holds their allegiance under Eru, in majesty they are peers, surpassing beyond compare all others, whether of the Valar and the Maiar, or of any other order that Ilúvatar has sent into Eä.
Of the Maiar

With the Valar came other spirits whose being also began before the World, of the same order as the Valar but of less degree. These are the Maiar, the people of the Valar, and their servants and helpers. Their number is not known to the Elves, and few have names in any of the tongues of the Children of Ilúvatar; for though it is otherwise in Aman, in Middle-earth the Maiar have seldom appeared in form visible to Elves and Men.

Chief among the Maiar of Valinor whose names are remembered in the histories of the Elder Days are Ilmarë, the handmaid of Varda, and Eönwë, the banner-bearer and herald of Manwë, whose might in arms is surpassed by none in Arda. But of all the Maiar Ossë and Uinen are best known to the Children of Ilúvatar.

Ossë is a vassal of Ulmo, and he is master of the seas that wash the shores of Middle-earth. He does not go in the deeps, but loves the coasts and the isles, and rejoices in the winds of Manwë; for in storm he delights, and laughs amid the roaring of the waves. His spouse is Uinen, the Lady of the Seas, whose hair lies spread through all waters under sky. All creatures she loves that live in the salt streams, and all weeds that grow there; to her mariners cry, for she can lay calm upon the waves, restraining the wildness of Ossë. The Númenóreans lived long in her protection, and held her in reverence equal to the Valar.

Melkor hated the Sea, for he could not subdue it. It is said that in the making of Arda he endeavoured to draw Ossë to his allegiance, promising to him all the realm and power of Ulmo, if he would serve him. So it was that long ago there arose great tumults in the sea that wrought ruin to the lands. But Uinen, at the prayer of Aulë, restrained Ossë and brought him before Ulmo; and he was pardoned and returned to his allegiance, to which he has remained faithful. For the most part; for the delight in violence has never wholly departed from him, and at times he will rage in his wilfulness without any command from Ulmo his lord. Therefore those who dwell by the sea or go up in ships may love him, but they do not trust him.

Melian was the name of a Maia who served both Vána and Estë; she dwelt long in Lórien, tending the trees that flower in the gardens of Irmo, ere she came to Middle-earth. Nightingales sang about her wherever she went.

Wisest of the Maiar was Olórin. He too dwelt in Lórien, but his ways took him often to the house of Nienna, and of her he learned pity and patience.

Of Melian much is told in the Quenta Silmarillion. But of Olórin that tale does not speak; for though he loved the Elves, he walked among them unseen, or in form as one of them, and they did not know whence came the fair visions or the promptings of wisdom that he put into their hearts. In later days he was the friend of all the Children of Ilúvatar, and took pity on their sorrows; and those who listened to him awoke from despair and put away the imaginations of darkness.
Of the Enemies

Last of all is set the name of Melkor, He who arises in Might. But that name he has forfeited; and the Noldor, who among the Elves suffered most from his malice, will not utter it, and they name him Morgoth, the Dark Enemy of the World. Great might was given to him by Ilúvatar, and he was coeval with Manwë. In the powers and knowledge of all the other Valar he had part, but he turned them to evil purposes, and squandered his strength in violence and tyranny. For he coveted Arda and all that was in it, desiring the kingship of Manwë and dominion over the realms of his peers.

From splendour he fell through arrogance to contempt for all things save himself, a spirit wasteful and pitiless. Understanding he turned to subtlety in perverting to his own will all that he would use, until he became a liar without shame. He began with the desire of Light, but when he could not possess it for himself alone, he descended through fire and wrath into a great burning, down into Darkness. And darkness he used most in his evil works upon Arda, and filled it with fear for all living things.

Yet so great was the power of his uprising that in ages forgotten he contended with Manwë and all the Valar, and through long years in Arda held dominion over most of the lands of the Earth. But he was not alone. For of the Maiar many were drawn to his splendour in the days of his greatness, and remained in that allegiance down into his darkness; and others he corrupted afterwards to his service with lies and treacherous gifts. Dreadful among these spirits were the Valaraukar, the scourges of fire that in Middle-earth were called the Balrogs, demons of terror.

Among those of his servants that have names the greatest was that spirit whom the Eldar called Sauron, or Gorthaur the Cruel. In his beginning he was of the Maiar of Aulë, and he remained mighty in the lore of that people. In all the deeds of Melkor the Morgoth upon Arda, in his vast works and in the deceits of his cunning, Sauron had a part, and was only less evil than his master in that for long he served another and not himself. But in after years he rose like a shadow of Morgoth and a ghost of his malice, and walked behind him on the same ruinous path down into the Void.

HERE ENDS THE VALAQUENTA




QUENTA SILMARILLION
The History of the Silmarils


Chapter 1
Of the Beginning of Days

It is told among the wise that the First War began before Arda was full-shaped, and ere yet there was any thing that grew or walked upon earth; and for long Melkor had the upper hand. But in the midst of the war a spirit of great strength and hardihood came to the aid of the Valar, hearing in the far heaven that there was battle in the Little Kingdom; and Arda was filled with the sound of his laughter. So came Tulkas the Strong, whose anger passes like a mighty wind, scattering cloud and darkness before it; and Melkor fled before his wrath and his laughter, and forsook Arda, and there was peace for a long age. And Tulkas remained and became one of the Valar of the Kingdom of Arda; but Melkor brooded in the outer darkness, and his hate was given to Tulkas for ever after.

In that time the Valar brought order to the seas and the lands and the mountains, and Yavanna planted at last the seeds that she had long devised. And since, when the fires were subdued or buried beneath the primeval hills, there was need of light, Aulë at the prayer of Yavanna wrought two mighty lamps for the lighting of the Middle-earth which he had built amid the encircling seas. Then Varda filled the lamps and Manwë hallowed them, and the Valar set them upon high pillars, more lofty far than are any mountains of the later days. One lamp they raised near to the north of Middle-earth, and it was named Illuin; and the other was raised in the south, and it was named Ormal; and the light of the Lamps of the Valar flowed out over the Earth, so that all was lit as it were in a changeless day.

Then the seeds that Yavanna had sown began swiftly to sprout and to burgeon, and there arose a multitude of growing things great and small, mosses and grasses and great ferns, and trees whose tops were crowned with cloud as they were living mountains, but whose feet were wrapped in a green twilight. And beasts came forth and dwelt in the grassy plains, or in the rivers and the lakes, or walked in the shadows of the woods. As yet no flower had bloomed nor any bird had sung, for these things waited still their time in the bosom of Yavanna; but wealth there was of her imagining, and nowhere more rich than in the midmost parts of the Earth, where the light of both the Lamps met and blended. And there upon the Isle of Almaren in the Great Lake was the first dwelling of the Valar when all things were young, and new-made green was yet a marvel in the eyes of the makers; and they were long content.

Now it came to pass that while the Valar rested from their labours, and watched the growth and unfolding of the things that they had devised and begun, Manwë ordained a great feast; and the Valar and an their host came at his bidding. But Aulë and Tulkas were weary; for the craft of Aulë and the strength of Tulkas had been at the service of an without ceasing fax the days of their labour. And Melkor knew of an that was done, for even then he had secret friends and spies among the Maiar whom he had converted to his cause; and far off in the darkness he was filled with hatred, being jealous of the work of his peers, whom he desired to make subject to himself. Therefore he gathered to himself spirits out of the halls of Eä that he had perverted to his service, and he deemed himself strong. And seeing now his time he drew near again to Arda, and looked down upon it, and the beauty of the Earth in its Spring filled him the more with hate.

Now therefore the Valar were gathered upon Almaren, fearing no evil, and because of the light of Illuin they did not perceive the shadow in the north that was cast from afar by Melkor; for he was grown dark as the Night of the Void. And it is sung that in that feast of the Spring of Arda Tulkas espoused Nessa the sister of Oromë, and she danced before the Valar upon the green grass of Almaren.

Then Tulkas slept, being weary and content, and Melkor deemed that his hour had come. And he passed therefore over the Walls of the Night with his host, and came to Middle-earth far in the north; and the Valar were not aware of him.

Now Melkor began the delving and building of a vast fortress, deep under Earth, beneath dark mountains where the beams of Illuin were cold and dim. That stronghold was named Utumno. And though the Valar knew naught of it as yet, nonetheless the evil of Melkor and the blight of his hatred flowed out thence, and the Spring of Arda was marred. Green things fell sick and rotted, and rivers were choked with weeds and slime, and fens were made, rank and poisonous, the breeding place of flies; and forests grew dark and perilous, the haunts of fear; and beasts became monsters of horn and ivory and dyed the earth with blood. Then the Valar knew indeed that Melkor was at work again, and they sought for his hiding place. But Melkor, trusting in the strength of Utumno and the might of his servants, came forth suddenly to war, and struck the first blow, ere the Valar were prepared; and he assailed the lights of Illuin and Ormal, and cast down their pillars and broke their lamps. In the overthrow of the mighty pillars lands were broken and seas arose in tumult; and when the lamps were spilled destroying flame was poured out over the Earth. And the shape of Arda and the symmetry of its waters and its lands was marred in that time, so that the first designs of the Valar were never after restored.

In the confusion and the darkness Melkor escaped, though fear fell upon him; for above the roaring of the seas he heard the voice of Manwë as a mighty wind, and the earth trembled beneath the feet of Tulkas. But he came to Utumno ere Tulkas could overtake him; and there he lay hid. And the Valar could not at that time overcome him, for the greater part of their strength was needed to restrain the tumults of the Earth, and to save from ruin all that could be saved of their labour; and afterwards they feared to rend the Earth again, until they knew where the Children of Ilúvatar were dwelling, who were yet to come in a time that was hidden from the Valar.

Thus ended the Spring of Arda. The dwelling of the Valar upon Almaren was utterly destroyed, and they had no abiding place upon the face of the Earth. Therefore they departed from Middle-earth and went to the Land of Aman, the westernmost of all lands upon the borders of the world; for its west shores looked upon the Outer Sea, that is called by the Elves Ekkaia, encircling the Kingdom of Arda. How wide is that sea none know but the Valar; and beyond it are the Walls of the Night. But the east shores of Aman were the uttermost end of Belegaer, the Great Sea at the West; and since Melkor was returned to Middle-earth and they could not yet overcome him, the Valar fortified their dwelling, and upon the shores of the sea they raised the Pelóri, the Mountains of Aman, highest upon Earth. And above all the mountains of the Pelóri was that height upon whose summit Manwë set his throne. Taniquetil the Elves name that holy mountain, and Oiolossë Everlasting Whiteness, and Elerrína Crowned with Stars, and many names beside; but the Sindar spoke of it in their later tongue as Amon Uilos. From their halls upon Taniquetil Manwë and Varda could look out across the Earth even into the furthest East.

Behind the walls of the Pelóri the Valar established their domain in that region which is called Valinor, and there were their houses, their gardens, and their towers. In that guarded land the Valar gathered great store of light and an the fairest things that were saved from the ruin; and many others yet fairer they made anew, and Valinor became more beautiful even than Middle-earth in the Spring of Arda; and it was blessed, for the Deathless dwelt there, and there naught faded nor withered, neither was there any stain upon flower or leaf in that land, nor any corruption or sickness in anything that lived; for the very stones and waters were hallowed.

And when Valinor was full-wrought and the mansions of the Valar were established, in the midst of the plain beyond the mountains they built their city, Valmar of many bells. Before its western gate there was a green mound, Ezellohar, that is named also Corollairë; and Yavanna hallowed it, and she sat there long upon the green grass and sang a song of power, in which was set all her thought of things that grow in the earth. But Nienna thought in silence, and watered the mould with tears. In that time the Valar were gathered together to hear the song of Yavanna, and they sat silent upon their thrones of council in the Máhanaxar, the Ring of Doom near to the golden gates of Valmar, and Yavanna Kementári sang before them and they watched.

And as they watched, upon the mound there came forth two slender shoots; and silence was over all the world in that hour, nor was there any other sound save the chanting of Yavanna. Under her song the saplings grew and became fair and tail, and came to flower; and thus there awoke in the world the Two Trees of Valinor. Of all things which Yavanna made they have most renown, and about their fate all the tales of the Elder Days are woven.

The one had leaves of dark green that beneath were as shining silver, and from each of his countless flowers a dew of silver light was ever falling, and the earth beneath was dappled with the shadow of his fluttering leaves. The other bore leaves of a young green like the new-opened beech; their edges were of glittering gold. Flowers swung upon her branches in clusters of yellow flame, formed each to a glowing horn that spilled a golden rain upon the ground; and from the blossom of that tree there came forth warmth and a great light. Telperion the one was called in Valinor, and Silpion, and Ninquelótë, and many other names; but Laurelin the other was, and Malinalda, and Culúrien, and many names in song beside.

In seven hours the glory of each tree waxed to full and waned again to naught; and each awoke once more to life an hour before the other ceased to shine. Thus in Valinor twice every day there came a gentle hour of softer light when both trees were faint and their gold and silver beams were mingled. Telperion was the elder of the trees and came first to full stature and to bloom; and that first hour in which he shone, the white glimmer of a silver dawn, the Valar reckoned not into the tale of hours, but named it the Opening Hour, and counted from it the ages of their reign in Valinor. Therefore at the sixth hour of the First Day, and of all the joyful days thereafter, until the Darkening of Valinor, Telperion ceased his time of flower; and at the twelfth hour Laurelin her blossoming. And each day of the Valar in Aman contained twelve hours, and ended with the second mingling of the lights, in which Laurelin was waning but Telperion was waxing. But the light that was spilled from the trees endured long, ere it was taken up into the airs or sank down into the earth; and the dews of Telperion and the rain that fell from Laurelin Varda hoarded in great vats like shining lakes, that were to all the land of the Valar as wells of water and of light. Thus began the Days of the Bliss of Valinor; and thus began also the Count of Time.

But as the ages drew on to the hour appointed by Ilúvatar for the coming of the Firstborn, Middle-earth lay in a twilight beneath the stars that Varda had wrought in the ages forgotten of her labours in Eä. And in the darkness Melkor dwelt, and still often walked abroad, in many shapes of power and fear, and he wielded cold and fire, from the tops of the mountains to the deep furnaces that are beneath them; and whatsoever was cruel or violent or deadly in those days is laid to his charge.

From the beauty and bliss of Valinor the Valar came seldom over the mountains to Middle-earth, but gave to the land beyond the Pelóri their care and their love. And in the midst of the Blessed Realm were the mansions of Aulë, and there he laboured long. For in the making of all things in that land he had the chief part, and he wrought there many beautiful and shapely works both openly and in secret. Of him comes the lore and knowledge of the Earth and of an things that it contains: whether the lore of those that make not, but seek only for the understanding of what is, or the lore of an craftsmen: the weaver, the shaper of wood, and the worker in metals; and the tiller and husbandman also, though these last and all that deal with things that grow and bear fruit must look also to the spouse of Aulë, Yavanna Kementári. Aulë it is who is named the Friend of the Noldor, for of him they learned much in after days, and they are the most skilled of the Elves; and in their own fashion, according to the gifts which Ilúvatar gave to them, they added much to his teaching, delighting to tongues and in scripts, and in the figures of broidery, of drawing, and of carving. The Noldor also it was who first achieved the making of gems; and the fairest of an gems were the Silmarils, and they are lost.

But Manwë Súlimo, highest and holiest of the Valar, sat upon the borders of Aman, forsaking not in his thought the Outer Lands. For his throne was set in majesty upon the pinnacle of Taniquetil, the highest of the mountains of the world, standing upon the margin of the sea. Spirits in the shape of hawks and eagles flew ever to and from his halls; and their eyes could see to the depths of the seas, and pierce the hidden caverns beneath the world. Thus they brought word to him of well nigh all that passed in Arda; yet some things were hidden even from the eyes of Manwë and the servants of Manwë, for where Melkor sat in his dark thought impenetrable shadows lay.

Manwë has no thought for his own honour, and is not jealous of his power, but rules all to peace. The Vanyar he loved best of all the Elves, and of him they received song and poetry; for poetry is the delight of Manwë, and the song of words is his music. His raiment is blue, and blue is the fire of his eyes, and his sceptre is of sapphire, which the Noldor wrought for him; and he was appointed to be the vicegerent of Ilúvatar, King of the world of Valar and Elves and Men, and the chief defence against the evil of Melkor. With Manwë dwelt Varda the most beautiful, she who in the Sindarin tongue is named Elbereth, Queen of the Valar, maker of the stars; and with than were a great host of spirits in blessedness.

But Ulmo was alone, and he abode not in Valinor, nor ever came thither unless there were need for a great council; he dwelt from the beginning of Arda in the Outer Ocean, and still he dwells there. Thence he governs the flowing of all waters, and the ebbing, the courses of an rivers and the replenishment of Springs, the distilling of all dews and rain in every land beneath the sky. In the deep places he gives thought to music great and terrible; and the echo of that music runs through all the veins of the world in sorrow and in joy; for it joyful is the fountain that rises in the sun, its springs are in the wells of sorrow unfathomed at the foundations of the Earth. The Teleri learned much of Ulmo, and for this reason their music has both sadness and enchantment. Salmar came with him to Arda, he who made the horns of Ulmo that none may ever forget who once has heard them; and Ossë and Uinen also, to whom he gave the government of the waves and the movements of the Inner Seas, and many other spirits beside. And thus it was by the power of Ulmo that even under the darkness of Melkor life coursed still through many secret lodes, and the Earth did not die; and to all who were lost in that darkness or wandered far from the light of the Valar the ear of Ulmo was ever open; nor has he ever forsaken Middle-earth, and whatsoever may since have befallen of ruin or of change he has not ceased to take thought for it, and will not until the end of days.

And in that time of dark Yavanna also was unwilling utterly to forsake the Outer Lands; for all things teat grow are dear to her, and she mourned for the works that she had begun in Middle-earth but Melkor had marred. Therefore leaving the house of Aulë and the flowering meads of Valinor she would come at times and heal the hurts of Melkor; and returning she would ever urge the Valar to that war with his evil dominion that they must surely wage ere the coming of die Firstborn. And Oromë tamer of beasts would ride too at whiles in the darkness of the unlit forests; as a mighty hunter he came with spear and bow, pursuing to the death the monsters and fell creatures of the kingdom of Melkor, and his white horse Nahar shone like silver in the shadows. Then the sleeping earth trembled at the beat of his golden hooves, and in the twilight of the world Oromë would sound the Valaróma his great horn upon the plains of Arda; whereat the mountains echoed, and the shadows of evil fled away, and Melkor himself quailed in Utumno, foreboding the wrath to come. But even as Oromë passed the servants of Melkor would gather again; and the lands were filled with shadows and deceit.

Now all is said concerning the manner of the Earth and its rulers in the beginning of days, and ere the world became such as the Children of Ilúvatar have known it. For Elves and Men are the Children of Ilúvatar; and since they understood not fully that theme by which the Children entered into the Music, none of the Ainur dared to add anything to their fashion. For which reason the Valar are to these kindreds rather their elders and their chieftains than their masters; and if ever in their dealings with Elves and Men the Ainur have endeavoured to force them when they would not be guided, seldom has this turned to good, howsoever good the intent. The dealings of the Ainur have indeed been mostly with the Elves, for Ilúvatar made them more like in nature to the Ainur, though less in might and stature; whereas to Men he gave strange gifts.

For it is said that after the departure of the Valar there was silence, and for an age Ilúvatar sat alone in thought. Then he spoke and said: 'Behold I love the Earth, which shall be a mansion for the Quendi and the Atani! But the Quendi shall be the fairest of all earthly creatures, and they shall have and shall conceive and bring forth more beauty than all my Children; and they shall have the greater bliss in this world. But to the Atani I will give a new gift.' Therefore he willed that the hearts of Men should seek beyond the world and should find no rest therein; but they should have a virtue to shape their life, amid the powers and chances of the world, beyond the Music of the Ainur, which is as fate to all things else; and of their operation everything should be, in form and deed, completed, and the world fulfilled unto the last and smallest.

But Ilúvatar knew that Men, being set amid the turmoils of the powers of the world, would stray often, and would not use their gifts in harmony; and he said: ''These too in their time shall find that all that they do redounds at the end only to the glory of my work.' Yet the Elves believe that Men are often a grief to Manwë, who knows most of the mind of Ilúvatar; for it seems to the Elves that Men resemble Melkor most of all the Ainur, although he has ever feared and hated them, even those that served him.

It is one with this gift of freedom that the children of Men dwell only a short space in the world alive, and are not bound to it, and depart soon whither the Elves know not. Whereas the Elves remain until the end of days, and their love of the Earth and all the world is more single and more poignant therefore, and as the years lengthen ever more sorrowful. For the Elves die not till tile world dies, unless they are slain or waste in grief (and to both these seeming deaths they are subject); neither does age subdue their strength, unless one grow weary of ten thousand centuries; and dying they are gathered to the halls of Mandos in Valinor, whence they may in time return. But the sons of Men die indeed, and leave the world; wherefore they are called the Guests, or the Strangers. Death is their fate, the gift of Ilúvatar, which as Time wears even the Powers shall envy. But Melkor has cast his shadow upon it, and confounded it with darkness, and brought forth evil out of good, and fear out of hope. Yet of old the Valar declared to the Elves in Valinor that Men shall join in the Second Music of the Ainur; whereas Ilúvatar has not revealed what he purposes for the Elves after the World's end, and Melkor has not discovered it.


Chapter 2
Of Aulë and Yavanna

It is told that in their beginning the Dwarves were made by Aulë in the darkness of Middle-earth; for so greatly did Aulë desire the coming of the Children, to have learners to whom he could teach his lore and his crafts, that he was unwilling to await the fulfilment of the designs of Ilúvatar. And Aulë made the Dwarves even as they still are, because the forms of the Children who were to come were unclear to his mind, and because the power of Melkor was yet over the Earth; and he wished therefore that they should be strong and unyielding. But fearing that the other Valar might blame his work, he wrought in secret: and he made first the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves in a hall under the mountains in Middle-earth.

Now Ilúvatar knew what was done, and in the very hour that Aulë's work was complete, and he was pleased, and began to instruct the Dwarves in the speech that he had devised for them, Ilúvatar spoke to him; and Aulë heard his voice and was silent. And the voice of Ilúvatar said to him: 'Why hast thou done this? Why dost thou attempt a thing which thou knowest is beyond thy power and thy authority? For thou hast from me as a gift thy own bring only, and no more; and therefore the creatures of thy hand and mind can live only by that being, moving when thou thinkest to move them, and if thy thought be elsewhere, standing idle. Is that thy desire?'

Then Aulë answered: 'I did not desire such lordship. I desired things other than I am, to love and to teach them, so that they too might perceive the beauty of Eä, which thou hast caused to be. For it seemed to me that there is great room in Arda for many things that might rejoice in it, yet it is for the most part empty still, and dumb. And in my impatience I have fallen into folly. Yet the making of thing is in my heart from my own making by thee; and the child of little understanding that makes a play of the deeds of his father may do so without thought of mockery, but because he is the son of his father. But what shall I do now, so that thou be not angry with me for ever? As a child to his father, I offer to thee these things, the work of the hands which thou hast made. Do with them what thou wilt. But should I not rather destroy the work of my presumption?'

Then Aulë took up a great hammer to smite the Dwarves; and he wept. But Ilúvatar had compassion upon Aulë and his desire, because of his humility; and the Dwarves shrank from the hammer and wore afraid, and they bowed down their heads and begged for mercy. And the voice of Ilúvatar said to Aulë: 'Thy offer I accepted even as it was made. Dost thou not see that these things have now a life of their own, and speak with their own voices? Else they would not have flinched from thy blow, nor from any command of thy will.' Then Aulë cast down his hammer and was glad, and he gave thanks to Ilúvatar, saying: 'May Eru bless my work and amend it!'

But Ilúvatar spoke again and said: 'Even as I gave being to the thoughts of the Ainur at the beginning of the World, so now I have taken up thy desire and given to it a place therein; but in no other way will I amend thy handiwork, and as thou hast made it, so shall it be. But I will not suffer this: that these should come before the Firstborn of my design, nor that thy impatience should be rewarded. They shall sleep now in the darkness under stone, and shall not come forth until the Firstborn have awakened upon Earth; and until that time thou and they shall wait, though long it seem. But when the time comes I will awaken them, and they shall be to thee as children; and often strife shall arise between thine and mine, the children of my adoption and the children of my choice.'

Then Aulë took the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves, and laid them to rest in far-sundered places; and he returned to Valinor, and waited while the long years lengthened.

Since they were to come in the days of the power of Melkor, Aulë made the Dwarves strong to endure. Therefore they are stone-hard, stubborn, fast in friendship and in enmity, and they suffer toil and hanger and hurt of body more hardily than all other speaking peoples; and they live long, far beyond the span of Men, yet not for ever. Aforetime it was held among the Elves in Middle-earth that dying the Dwarves returned to the earth and the stone of which they were made; yet that is not their own belief. For they say that Aulë the Maker, whom they call Mahal, cares for them, and gathers them to Mandos in halls set apart; and that he declared to their Fathers of old that Ilúvatar will hallow them and give them a place among the Children in the End. Then their part shall be to serve Aulë and to aid him in the remaking of Arda after the Last Battle. They say also that the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves return to live again in their own kin and to bear once more their ancient names: of whom Durin was the most renowned in after ages, father of that kindred most friendly to the Elves, whose mansions were at Khazad-dûm.

Now when Aulë laboured in the making of the Dwarves he kept this work hidden from the other Valar; but at last he opened his mind to Yavanna and told her of all that had come to pass. Then Yavanna said to him: 'Eru is merciful. Now I see that thy heart rejoiceth, as indeed it may; for thou hast received not only forgiveness but bounty. Yet because thou hiddest this thought from me until its achievement, thy children will have little love for the things of my love. They will love first the things made by their own hands, as doth their father. They will delve in the earth, and the things that grow and live upon the earth they will not heed. Many a tree shall feel the bite of their iron without pity.'

But Aulë answered: 'That shall also be true of the Children of Ilúvatar; for they will eat and they will build. And though the things of thy realm have worth in themselves, and would have worth if no Children were to come, yet Eru will give them dominion, and they shall use all that they find in Arda: though not, by the purpose of Eru, without respect or without gratitude.'

'Not unless Melkor darken their hearts,' said Yavanna. And she was not appeased, but grieved in heart, fearing what might be done upon Middle-earth in days to come. Therefore she went before Manwë, and she did not betray the counsel of Aulë, but she said: 'King of Arda, is it true, as Aulë hath said to me, that the Children when they come shall have dominion over all the things of my labour, to do as they will therewith?'

'It is true,' said Manwë. 'But why dost thou ask, for thou hadst no need of the teaching of Aulë?'

Then Yavanna was silent and looked into her own thought. And she answered: 'Because my heart is anxious, thinking of the days to come. All my works are dear to me. Is it not enough that Melkor should have marred so many? Shall nothing that I have devised be free from the dominion of others?'

'If thou hadst thy will what wouldst thou reserve?' said Manwë. 'Of all thy realm what dost thou hold dearest?'

'All have their worth,' said Yavanna, 'and each contributes to the worth of the others. But the kelvar can flee or defend themselves, whereas the olvar that grow cannot. And among these I hold trees dear. Long in the growing, swift shall they be in the felling, and unless they pay toll with fruit upon bough little mourned in their passing. So I see in my thought. Would that the trees might speak on behalf of all things that have roots, and punish those that wrong them!'

'This is a strange thought,' said Manwë.

'Yet it was in the Song,' said Yavanna. 'For while thou wert in the heavens and with Ulmo built the clouds and poured out the rains, I lifted up the branches of great trees to receive them, and some sang to Ilúvatar amid the wind and the rain.'

Then Manwë sat silent, and the thought of Yavanna that she had put into his heart grew and unfolded; and it was beheld by Ilúvatar. Then it seemed to Manwë that the Song rose once more about him, and he heeded now many things therein that though he had heard them he had not heeded before. And at last the Vision was renewed, but it was not now remote, for he was himself within it, and yet he saw that all was upheld by the hand of Ilúvatar; and the hand entered in, and from it came forth many wonders that had until then been hidden from him in the hearts of the Ainur.

Then Manwë awoke, and he went down to Yavanna upon Ezellohar, and he sat beside her beneath the Two Trees. And Manwë said: 'O Kementári, Eru hath spoken, saying: "Do then any of the Valar suppose that I did not hear all the Song, even the least sound of the least voice? Behold! When the Children awake, then the thought of Yavanna will awake also, and it will summon spirits from afar, and they will go among the kelvar and the olvar, and some will dwell therein, and be held in reverence, and their just anger shall be feared. For a time: while the Firstborn are in their power, and while the Secondborn are young." But dost them not now remember, Kementári, that thy thought sang not always alone? Did not thy thought and mine meet also, so that we took wing together like great birds that soar above the clouds? That also shall come to be by the heed of Ilúvatar, and before the Children awake there shall go forth with wings like the wind the Eagles of the Lords of the West.'

Then Yavanna was glad, and she stood up, reaching her arms towards the heavens, and she said: 'High shall climb the trees of Kementári, that the Eagles of the King may house therein!'

But Manwë rose also, and it seemed that he stood to such a height that his voice came down to Yavanna as from the paths of the winds.

'Nay,' he said, 'only the trees of Aulë will be tall enough. In the mountains the Eagles shall house, and hear the voices of those who call upon us. But in the forests shall walk the Shepherds of the Trees.'

Then Manwë and Yavanna parted for that time, and Yavanna returned to Aulë; and he was in his smithy, pouring molten metal into a mould. 'Eru is bountiful,' she said. 'Now let thy children beware! For there shall walk a power in the forests whose wrath they will arouse at their peril.'

'Nonetheless they will have need of wood,' said Aulë, and he went on with his smith-work.


Chapter 3
Of the Coming of the Elves and the Captivity of Melkor

Through long ages the Valar dwelt in bliss in the light of the Trees beyond. The Mountains of Aman, but all Middle-earth lay in a twilight under the stars. While the Lamps had shone, growth began there which now was checked, because all was again dark. But already the oldest living things had arisen: in the seas the great weeds, and on earth the shadow of great trees; and in the valleys of the night-clad hills there were dark creatures old and strong. To those lands and forests the Valar seldom came, save only Yavanna and Oromë; and Yavanna would walk there in the shadows, grieving because the growth and promise of the Spring of Arda was stayed. And she set a sleep upon many things that had arisen in the Spring, so that they should not age, but should wait for a time of awakening that yet should be.

But in the north Melkor built his strength, and he slept not, but watched, and laboured; and the evil things that he had perverted walked abroad, and the dark and slumbering woods were haunted by monsters and shapes of dread. And in Utumno he gathered his demons about him, those spirits who first adhered to him in the days of his splendour, and became most like him in his corruption: their hearts were of fire, but they were cloaked in darkness, and terror went before them; they had whips of flame. Balrogs they were named in Middle-earth in later days. And in that dark time Melkor bred many other monsters of divers shapes and kinds that long troubled the world; and his realm spread now ever southward over Middle-earth.

And Melkor made also a fortress and armoury not far from the north-western shores of the sea, to resist any assault that might come from Aman. That stronghold was commanded by Sauron, lieutenant of Melkor; and it was named Angband.

It came to pass that the Valar held council, for they became troubled by the tidings that Yavanna and Oromë brought from the Outer Lands; and Yavanna spoke before the Valar, saying: 'Ye mighty of Arda, the Vision of Ilúvatar was brief and soon taken away, so that maybe we cannot guess within a narrow count of days the hour appointed. Yet be sure of this: the hour approaches, and within this age our hope shall be revealed, and the Children shall awake. Shall we then leave the lands of their dwelling desolate and full of evil? Shall they walk in darkness while we have light? Shall they call Melkor lord while Manwë sits upon Taniquetil?'

And Tulkas cried: 'Nay! Let us make war swiftly! Have we not rested from strife overlong, and is not our strength now renewed? Shall one alone contest with us for ever?'

But at the bidding of Manwë Mandos spoke, and he said: 'In this age the Children of Ilúvatar shall come indeed, but they come not yet. Moreover it is doom that the Firstborn shall come in the darkness, and shall look first upon the stars. Great light shall be for their waning. To Varda ever shall they call at need.'

Then Varda went forth from the council, and she looked out from the height of Taniquetil, and beheld the darkness of Middle-earth beneath the innumerable stars, faint and far. Then she began a great labour, greatest of all the works of the Valar since their coming into Arda. She took the silver dews from the vats of Telperion, and therewith she made new stars and brighter against the coming of the Firstborn; wherefore she whose name out of the deeps of time and the labours of Eä was Tintallë, the Kindler, was called after by the Elves Elentári, Queen of the Stars. Carnil and Luinil, Nénar and Lumbar, Alcarinquë and Elemmírë she wrought in that time, and many other of the ancient stars she gathered together and set as signs in the heavens of Arda: Wilwarin, Telumendil, Soronúmë, and Anarríma; and Menelmacar with his shining belt, that forebodes the Last Battle that shall be at the end of days. And high in the north as a challenge to Melkor she set the crown of seven mighty stars to swing, Valacirca, the Sickle of the Valar and sign of doom.

It is told that even as Varda ended her labours, and they were long, when first Menelmacar strode up the sky and the blue fire of Helluin flickered in the mists above the borders of the world, in that hour the Children of the Earth awoke, the Firstborn of Ilúvatar. By the starlit mere of Cuiviénen, Water of Awakening, they rose from the sleep of Ilúvatar; and while they dwelt yet silent by Cuiviénen their eyes beheld first of all things the stars of heaven. Therefore they have ever loved the starlight, and have revered Varda Elentári above all the Valar.

In the changes of the world the shapes of lands and of seas have been broken and remade; rivers have not kept their courses, neither have mountains remained steadfast; and to Cuiviénen there is no returning. But it is said among the Elves that it lay far off in the east of Middle-earth, and northward, and it was a bay in the Inland Sea of Helcar; and that sea stood where aforetime the roots of the mountain of Illuin had been before Melkor overthrew it Many waters flowed down thither from heights in the east, and the first sound that was heard by the Elves was the sound of water flowing, and the sound of water falling over stone.

Long they dwelt in their first home by the water under stars, and they walked the Earth in wonder; and they began to make speech and to give names to all things that they perceived. Themselves they named the Quendi, signifying those that speak with voices; for as yet they had met no other living things that spoke or sang.

And on a time it chanced that Oromë rode eastward in his hunting, and he turned north by the shores of Helcar and passed under the shadows of the Orocarni, the Mountains of the East. Then on a sudden Nahar set up a great neighing, and stood still. And Oromë wondered and sat silent, and it seemed to him that in the quiet of the land under the stars he heard afar off many voices singing.

Thus it was that the Valar found at last, as it were by chance, those whom they had so long awaited. And Oromë looking upon the Elves was filled with wonder, as though they were beings sudden and marvellous and unforeseen; for so it shall ever be with the Valar. From without the World, though all things may be forethought in music or foreshown in vision from afar, to those who enter verily into Eä each in its time shall be met at unawares as something new and unforetold.

In the beginning the Elder Children of Ilúvatar were stronger and greater than they have since become; but not more fair, for though the beauty of the Quendi in the days of their youth was beyond all other beauty that Ilúvatar has caused to be, it has not perished, but lives in the West, and sorrow and wisdom have enriched it. And Oromë loved the Quendi, and named them in their own tongue Eldar, the people of the stars; but that name was after borne only by those who followed him upon the westward road.

Yet many of the Quendi were filled with dread at his coming; and this was the doing of Melkor. For by after-knowledge the wise declare that Melkor, ever watchful, was first aware of the awakening of the Quendi, and sent shadows and evil spirits to spy upon them and waylay them. So it came to pass, some years ere the coming of Oromë, that if any of the Elves strayed far abroad, alone or few together, they would often vanish, and never return; and the Quendi said that the Hunter had caught them, and they were afraid. And indeed the most ancient songs of the Elves, of which echoes are remembered still in the West, tell of the shadow-shapes that walked in the hills above Cuiviénen, or would pass suddenly over the stars; and of the dark Rider upon his wild horse that pursued those that wandered to take them and devour them. Now Melkor greatly hated and feared the riding of Oromë, and either he sent indeed his dark servants as riders, or he set lying whispers abroad, for the purpose that the Quendi should shun Oromë, if ever they should meet.

Thus it was that when Nahar neighed and Oromë indeed came among them, some of the Quendi hid themselves, and some fled and were lost. But those that had courage, and stayed, perceived swiftly that the Great Rider was no shape out of darkness; for the light of Aman was in his face, and all the noblest of the Elves were drawn towards it.

But of those unhappy ones who were ensnared by Melkor little is known of a certainty. For who of the living has descended into the pits of Utumno, or has explored the darkness of the counsels of Melkor? Yet this is held true by the wise of Eressëa, that all those of the Quendi who came into the hands of Melkor, ere Utumno was broken, were put there in prison, and by slow arts of cruelty were corrupted and enslaved; and thus did Melkor breed the hideous race of the Orcs in envy and mockery of the Elves, of whom they were afterwards the bitterest foes. For the Orcs had life and multiplied after the manner of the Children of Ilúvatar; and naught that had life of its own, nor the semblance of life, could ever Melkor make since his rebellion in the Ainulindalë before the Beginning: so say the wise. And deep in their dark hearts the Orcs loathed the Master whom they served in fear, the maker only of their misery. This it may be was the vilest deed of Melkor, and the most hateful to Ilúvatar.

Oromë tarried a while among the Quendi, and then swiftly he rode back over land and sea to Valinor and brought the tidings to Valmar; and he spoke of the shadows that troubled Cuiviénen. Then the Valar rejoiced, and yet they were in doubt amid their joy; and they debated long what counsel it were best to take for the guarding of the Quendi from the shadow of Melkor. But Oromë returned at once to Middle-earth and abode with the Elves.

Manwë sat long in thought upon Taniquetil, and he sought the counsel of Ilúvatar. And coming then down to Valmar he summoned the Valar to the Ring of Doom, and thither came even Ulmo from the Outer Sea.

Then Manwë said to the Valar: 'This is the counsel of Ilúvatar in my heart: that we should take up again the mastery of Arda, at whatsoever cost, and deliver the Quendi from the shadow of Melkor.' Then Tulkas was glad; but Aulë was grieved, foreboding the hurts of the world that must come of that strife. But the Valar made ready and came forth from Aman in strength of war, resolving to assault the fortresses of Melkor and make an end. Never did Melkor forget that this war was made for the sake of the Elves, and that they were the cause of his downfall. Yet they had no part in those deeds, and they know little of the riding of the might of the West against the North in the beginning of their days.

Melkor met the onset of the Valar in the North-west of Middle-earth, and all that region was much broken. But the first victory of the hosts of the West was swift, and the servants of Melkor fled before them to Utumno. Then the Valar passed over Middle-earth, and they set a guard over Cuiviénen; and thereafter the Quendi knew nothing of the great Battle of the Powers, save that the Earth shook and groaned beneath them, and the waters were moved, and in the north there were lights as of mighty fires. Long and grievous was the siege of Utumno, and many battles were fought before its gates of which naught but the rumour is known to the Elves. In that time the shape of Middle-earth was changed, and the Great Sea that sundered it from Aman grew wide and deep; and it broke in upon the coasts and made a deep gulf to the southward. Many lesser bays were made between the Great Gulf and Helcaraxë far in the north, where Middle-earth and Aman came nigh together. Of these the Bay of Balar was the chief; and into it the mighty river Sirion flowed down from the new-raised highlands northwards: Dorthonion, and the mountains about Hithlum. The lands of the far north were all made desolate in those days; for there Utumno was delved exceeding deep, and its pits were filled with fires and with great hosts of the servants of Melkor.

But at the last the gates of Utumno were broken and the halls unroofed, and Melkor took refuge in the uttermost pit. Then Tulkas stood forth as champion of the Valar and wrestled with him, and cast him upon his face; and he was bound with the chain Angainor that Aulë had wrought, and led captive; and the world had peace for a long age.

Nonetheless the Valar did not discover all the mighty vaults and caverns hidden with deceit far under the fortresses of Angband and Utumno. Many evil things still lingered there, and others were dispersed and fled into the dark and roamed in the waste places of the world, awaiting a more evil hour; and Sauron they did not find.

But when the Battle was ended and from the ruin of the North great clouds arose and hid the stars, the Valar drew Melkor back to Valinor, bound hand and foot, and blindfold; and he was brought to the Ring of Doom. There he lay upon his face before the feet of Manwë and sued for pardon; but his prayer was denied, and he was cast into prison in the fastness of Mandos, whence none can escape, neither Vala, nor Elf, nor mortal Man. Vast and strong are those halls, and they were built in the west of the land of Aman. There was Melkor doomed to abide for three ages long, before his cause should be tried anew, or he should plead again for pardon.

Then again the Valar were gathered in council, and they were divided in debate. For some, and of those Ulmo was the chief, held that the Quendi should be left free to walk as they would in Middle-earth, and with their gifts of skill to order all the lands and heal their hurts. But the most part feared for the Quendi in the dangerous world amid the deceits of the starlit dusk; and they were filled moreover with the love of the beauty of the Elves and desired their fellowship. At the last, therefore, the Valar summoned the Quendi to Valinor, there to be gathered at the knees of the Powers in the light of the Trees for ever; and Mandos broke his silence, saying: 'So it is doomed.' From this summons came many woes that afterwards befell.

But the Elves were at first unwilling to hearken to the summons, for they had as yet seen the Valar only in their wrath as they went to war, save Oromë alone; and they were filled with dread. Therefore Oromë was sent again to them, and he chose from among them ambassadors who should go to Valinor and speak for their people; and these were Ingwë, Finwë and Elwë, who afterwards were kings. And coming they were filled with awe by the glory and majesty of the Valar, and desired greatly the light and splendour of the Trees. Then Oromë brought them back to Cuiviénen, and they spoke before their people, and counselled them to heed the summons of the Valar and remove into the West

Then befell the first sundering of the Elves. For the kindred of Ingwë, and the most part of the kindreds of Finwë and Elwë, were swayed by the words of their lords, and were willing to depart and follow Oromë; and these were known ever after as the Eldar, by the name that Oromë gave to the Elves in the beginning, in their own tongue. But many refused the summons, preferring the starlight and the wide spaces of Middle-earth to the rumour of the Trees; and these are the Avari, the Unwilling, and they were sundered in that time from the Eldar, and met never again until many ages were past.

The Eldar prepared now a great march from their first homes in the east; and they were arrayed in three hosts. The smallest host and the first to set forth was led by Ingwë, the most high lord of all the Elvish race. He entered into Valinor and sits at the feet of the Powers, and all Elves revere his name; but he came never back, nor looked again upon Middle-earth. The Vanyar were his people; they are the Fair Elves, the beloved of Manwë and Varda, and few among Men have spoken with them.

Next came the Noldor, a name of wisdom, the people of Finwë. They are the Deep Elves, the friends of Aulë; and they are renowned in song, for they fought and laboured long and grievously in the northern lands of old.

The greatest host came last, and they are named the Teleri, for they tarried on the road, and were not wholly of a mind to pass from the dusk to the light of Valinor. In water they had great delight, and those that came at last to the western shores were enamoured of the sea. The Sea-elves therefore they became in the land of Aman, the Falmari, for they made music beside the breaking waves. Two lords they had, for their numbers were great: Elwë Singollo (which signifies Greymantle) and Olwë his brother.

These were the three kindreds of the Eldalië, who passing at length into the uttermost West in the days of the Trees are called the Calaquendi, Elves of the Light. But others of the Eldar there were who set out indeed upon the westward march, but became lost upon the long road, or turned aside, or lingered on the shores of Middle-earth; and these were for the most part of the kindred of the Teleri, as is told hereafter. They dwelt by the sea or wandered in the woods and mountains of the world, yet their hearts were turned towards the West. Those Elves the Calaquendi call the Úmanyar, since they came never to the land of Aman and the Blessed Realm; but the Úmanyar and the Avari alike they call the Moriquendi, Elves of the Darkness, for they never beheld the Light that was before the Sun and Moon.

It is told that when the hosts of the Eldalië departed from Cuiviénen Oromë rode at their head upon Nahar, his white horse shod with gold; and passing northward about the Sea of Helcar they turned towards the west. Before them great clouds hung still black in the North above the ruins of war, and the stars in that region were hidden. Then not a few grew afraid and repented, and turned back, and are forgotten.

Long and slow was the march of the Eldar into the west, for the leagues of Middle-earth were uncounted, and weary and pathless. Nor did the Eldar desire to hasten, for they were filled with wonder at all that they saw, and by many lands and rivers they wished to abide; and though all were yet willing to wander, many feared rather their journey's end than hoped for it Therefore whenever Oromë departed, having at times other matters to heed, they halted and went forward no more, until he returned to guide them. And it came to pass after many years of journeying in this manner that the Eldar took their course through a forest, and they came to a great river, wider than any they had yet seen; and beyond it were mountains whose sharp horns seemed to pierce the realm of the stars. This river, it is said, was even the river which was after called Anduin the Great, and was ever the frontier of the west-lands of Middle-earth. But the mountains were the Hithaeglir, the Towers of Mist upon the borders of Eriador; yet they were taller and more terrible in those days, and were reared by Melkor to hinder the riding of Oromë. Now the Teleri abode long on the east bank of that river and wished to remain there, but the Vanyar and me Noldor passed over it, and Oromë led them into the passes of the mountains. And when Oromë was gone forward the Teleri looked upon the shadowy heights and were afraid.

Then one arose in the host of Olwë, which was ever the hindmost on the road; Lenwë he was called. He forsook the westward march, and led away a numerous people, southwards down the great river, and they passed out of the knowledge of their kin until long years were past. Those were the Nandor; and they became a people apart, unlike their kin, save that they loved water, and dwelt most beside falls and running streams. Greater knowledge they had of living things, tree and herb, bird and beast, than all other Elves. In after years Denethor, son of Lenwë, turned again west at last, and led a part of that people over the mountains into Beleriand ere the rising of the Moon.

At length the Vanyar and the Noldor came over Ered Luin, the Blue Mountains, between Eriador and the westernmost land of Middle-earth, which the Elves after named Beleriand; and the foremost companies passed over the Vale of Sirion and came down to the shores of the Great Sea between Drengist and the Bay of Balar. But when they beheld it great fear came upon them, and many withdrew into the woods and highlands of Beleriand. Then Oromë departed, and returned to Valinor to seek the counsel of Manwë, and left them.

And the host of the Teleri passed over the Misty Mountains, and crossed the wide lands of Eriador, being urged on by Elwë Singollo, for he was eager to return to Valinor and the Light that he had beheld; and he wished not to be sundered from the Noldor, for he had great friendship with Finwë their lord. Thus after many years the Teleri also came at last over Ered Luin into the eastern regions of Beleriand. There they halted, and dwelt a while beyond the River Gelion.


Chapter 4
Of Thingol and Melian

Melian was a Maia, of the race of the Valar. She dwelt in the gardens of Lórien, and among all his people there were none more beautiful than Melian, nor more wise, nor more skilled in songs of enchantment. It is told that the Valar would leave their works, and the birds of Valinor their mirth, that the bells of Valmar were silent and the fountains ceased to flow, when at the mingling of the lights Melian sang in Lórien. Nightingales went always with her, and she taught them their song; and she loved the deep shadows of the great trees. She was akin before the World was made to Yavanna herself; and in that time when the Quendi awoke beside the waters of Cuiviénen she departed from Valinor and came to the Hither Lands, and there she filled the silence of Middle-earth before the dawn with her voice and the voices of her birds.

Now when their journey was near its end, as has been told, the people of the Teleri rested long in East Beleriand, beyond the River Gelion; and at that time many of the Noldor still lay to the westward, in those forests that were afterwards named Neldoreth and Region. Elwë, lord of the Teleri, went often through the great woods to seek out Finwë his friend in the dwellings of the Noldor; and it chanced on a time that he came alone to the starlit wood of Nan Elmoth, and there suddenly he heard the song of nightingales. Then an enchantment fell on him, and he stood still; and afar off beyond the voices of the lómelindi he heard the voice of Melian, and it filled all his heart with wonder and desire. He forgot then utterly all his people and all the purposes of his mind, and following the birds under the shadow of the trees he passed deep into Nan Elmoth and was lost. But he came at last to a glade open to the stars, and there Melian stood; and out of the darkness he looked at her, and the light of Aman was in her face.

She spoke no word; but being filled with love Elwë came to her and took her hand, and straightway a spell was laid on him, so that they stood thus while long years were measured by the wheeling stars above them; and the trees of Nan Elmoth grew tall and dark before they spoke any word.

Thus Elwë's folk who sought him found him not, and Olwë took the kingship of the Teleri and departed, as is told hereafter. Elwë Singollo came never again across the sea to Valinor so long as he lived, and Melian returned not thither while their realm together lasted; but of her there came among both Elves and Men a strain of the Ainur who were with Ilúvatar before Eä. In after days he became a king renowned, and his people were all the Eldar of Beleriand; the Sindar they were named, the Grey-elves, the Elves of the Twilight and King Greymantle was he, Elu Thingol in the tongue of that land. And Melian was his Queen, wiser than any child of Middle-earth; and their hidden halls were in Menegroth, the Thousand Caves, in Doriath. Great power Melian lent to Thingol, who was himself great among the Eldar; for he alone of all the Sindar had seen with his own eyes the Trees in the day of their flowering, and king though he was of Amanyar, he was not accounted among the Moriquendi, but with the Elves of the Light, mighty upon Middle-earth. And of the love of Thingol and Melian there came into the world the fairest of all the Children of Ilúvatar that was or shall ever be.


Chapter 5
Of Eldamar and the Princes of the Eldalië

In time the hosts of the Vanyar and the Noldor came to the last western shores of the Hither Lands. In the north these shores, in the ancient days after the Battle of the Powers, bent ever westward, until in the northernmost parts of Arda only a narrow sea divided Aman, upon which Valinor was built, from the Hither Lands; but this narrow sea was filled with grinding ice, because of the violence of the frosts of Melkor. Therefore Oromë did not lead the hosts of the Eldalië into the far north, but brought them to the fair lands about the River Sirion, that afterwards were named Beleriand; and from those shores whence first the Eldar looked in fear and wonder on the Sea there stretched an ocean, wide and dark and deep, between them and the Mountains of Aman.

Now Ulmo, by the counsel of the Valar, came to the shores of Middle-earth and spoke with the Eldar who waited there, gazing on the dark waves; and because of his words and the music which he made for them on his horns of shell their fear of the sea was turned rather to desire. Therefore Ulmo uprooted an island which long had stood alone amid the sea, far from either shore, since the tumults of the fall of Illuin; and with the aid of his servants he moved it, as it were a mighty ship, and anchored it in the Bay of Balar, into which Sirion poured his water. Then the Vanyar and the Noldor embarked upon that isle, and were drawn over the sea, and came at last to the long shores beneath the Mountains of Aman; and they entered Valinor and were welcomed to its bliss. But the eastern horn of the island, which was deep-grounded in the shoals off the mouths of Sirion, was broken asunder and remained behind and that, it is said, was the Isle of Balar, to which afterwards Ossë often came.

But the Teleri remained still in Middle-earth, for they dwelt in East Beleriand far from the sea, and they heard not the summons of Ulmo until too late; and many searched still for Elwë their lord, and without him they were unwilling to depart. But when they learned that Ingwë and Finwë and their peoples were gone, then many of the Teleri pressed on to the shores of Beleriand, and dwelt thereafter near the Mouths of Sirion, in longing for their friends that had departed; and they took Olwë, Elwë’s brother, to be their king. Long they remained by the coasts of the western sea, and Ossë and Uinen came to them and befriended them; and Ossë instructed them, sitting upon a rock near to the margin of the land, and of him they learned all manner of sea-lore and sea-music. Thus it came to be that the Teleri, who were from the beginning lovers of water, and the fairest singers of all the Elves, were after enamoured of the seas, and their songs were filled with the sound of waves upon the shore.

When many years had passed, Ulmo hearkened to the prayers of the Noldor and of Finwë their king. Who grieved at their long sundering from the Teleri, and besought him to bring them to Aman, if they would come. And most of them proved now willing indeed; but great was the grief of Ossë when Ulmo returned to the coasts of Beleriand, to bear them away to Valinor; for his care was for the seas of Middle-earth and the shores of the Hither Lands, and he was ill-pleased that the voices of the Teleri should be heard no more in his domain. Some he persuaded to remain; and those were the Falathrim, the Elves of the Falas, who in after days had dwellings at the havens of Brithombar and Eglarest, the first mariners in Middle-earth and the first makers of ships. Círdan the Shipwright was their lord.

The kinsfolk and friends of Elwë Singollo also remained in the Hither Lands, seeking him yet, though they would fain have departed to Valinor and the light of the Trees, if Ulmo and Olwë had been willing to tarry longer. But Olwë would be gone; and at last the main host of the Teleri embarked upon the isle, and Ulmo drew them far away. Then the friends of Elwë were left behind; and they called themselves Eglath, the Forsaken People. They dwelt in the woods and hills of Beleriand, rather than by the sea, which filled them with sorrow; but the desire of Aman was ever in their hearts.

But when Elwë awoke from his long trance, he came forth from Nan Elmoth with Melian, and they dwelt thereafter in the woods in the midst of the land. Greatly though he had desired to see again the light of the Trees, in the face of Melian he beheld the light of Aman as in an unclouded mirror, and in that light he was content. His people gathered about him in joy, and they were amazed; for fair and noble as he had been, now he appeared as it were a lord of the Maiar, his hair as grey silver, tallest of all the Children of Ilúvatar; and a high doom was before him.

Now Ossë followed after the host of Olwë, and when they were come to the Bay of Eldamar (which is Elvenhome) he called to them; and they knew his voice, and begged Ulmo to stay their voyage. And Ulmo granted their request, and at his bidding Ossë made fast the island and rooted it to the foundations of the sea. Ulmo did this the more readily, for he understood the hearts of the Teleri, and in the council of the Valar he had spoken against the summons, thinking that it were better for the Quendi to remain in Middle-earth. The Valar were little pleased to learn what he had done; and Finwë grieved when the Teleri came not, and yet more when he learned that Elwë was forsaken, and knew that he should not see him again, unless it were in the halls of Mandos. But the island was not moved again, and stood there alone in the Bay of Eldamar; and it was called Tol Eressëa, the Lonely Isle. There the Teleri abode as they wished under the stars of heaven, and yet within right of Aman and the deathless shore; and by that long sojourn apart in the Lonely Isle was caused the sundering of their speech from that of the Vanyar and the Noldor.

To these the Valar had given a land and a dwelling-place. Even among the radiant flowers of the Tree-lit gardens of Valinor they longed still at times to see the stars; and therefore a gap was made in the great walls of the Pelóri, and there in a deep valley that ran down to the sea the Eldar raised a high green hill: Túna it was called. From the west the light of the Trees fell upon it, and its shadow lay ever eastward; and to the east it looked towards the Bay of Elvenhome, and the Lonely Isle, and the Shadowy Seas. Then through Calacirya, the Pass of Light, the radiance of the Blessed Realm streamed forth, kindling the dark waves to silver and gold, and it touched the Lonely Isle, and its western shore grew green and fair. There bloomed the first flowers that ever were east of the Mountains of Aman.

Upon the crown of Túna the city of the Elves was built, the white walls and terraces of Tirion; and the highest of the towers of that city was the Tower of Ingwë, Mindon Eldaliéva, whose silver lamp shone far out into the mists of the sea. Few are the ships of mortal Men that have seen its slender beam. In Tirion upon Túna the Vanyar and the Noldor dwelt long in fellowship. And since of all things in Valinor they loved most the White Tree, Yavanna made for them a tree like to a lesser image of Telperion, save that it did not give light of its own being; Galathilion it was named in the Sindarin tongue. This tree was planted in the courts beneath the Mindon and there flourished, and its seedlings were many in Eldamar. Of these one was afterwards planted in Tol Eressëa, and it prospered there, and was named Celeborn; thence came in me fullness of time as is elsewhere told, Nimloth, the White Tree of Númenor.

Manwë and Varda loved most the Vanyar, the Fair Elves; but the Noldor were beloved of Aulë, and he and his people came often among them. Great became their knowledge and their skill; yet even greater was their thirst for more knowledge, and in many things they soon surpassed their teachers. They were changeful in speech, for they had great love of words, and sought ever to find names more fit for all things that they knew or imagined. And it came to pass that the masons of the house of Finwë, quarrying in the hills after stone (for they delighted in the building of high towers), first discovered the earth-gems, and brought them forth in countless myriads; and they devised tools for the cutting and shaping of gems, and carved them in many forms. They hoarded them not, but gave them freely, and by their labour enriched all Valinor.

The Noldor afterwards came back to Middle-earth, and this tale tells mostly of their deeds; therefore the names and kinship of their princes may here be told, in that form which these names later bore in the tongue of the Elves of Beleriand.

Finwë was King of the Noldor. The sons of Finwë were Fëanor, and Fingolfin, and Finarfin; but the mother of Fëanor was Míriel Serindë, whereas the mother of Fingolfin and Finarfin was Indis of the Vanyar. Fëanor was the mightiest in skill of word and of hand, more learned than his brothers; his spirit burned as a flame. Fingolfin was the strongest, the most steadfast, and the most valiant. Finarfin was the fairest, and the most wise of heart; and afterwards he was a friend of the sons of Olwë, lord of the Teleri, and had to wife Eärwen, the swan-maiden of Alqualondë, Olwë's daughter.

The seven sons of Fëanor were Maedhros the tall; Maglor the mighty singer, whose voice was heard far over land and sea; Celegorm the fair, and Caranthir the dark; Curufin the crafty, who inherited most his father's skill of hand; and the youngest Amrod and Amras, who were twin brothers, alike in mood and face. In later days they were great hunters in the woods of Middle-earth; and a hunter also was Celegorm, who in Valinor was a friend of Oromë, and often followed the Vala's horn.

The sons of Fingolfin were Fingon, who was afterwards King of the Noldor in the north of the world, and Turgon, lord of Gondolin; their sister was Aredhel the White. She was younger in the years of the Eldar than her brothers; and when she was grown to full stature and beauty she was tall and strong, and loved much to ride and hunt in the forests. There she was often in the company of the sons of Fëanor, her kin; but to none was her heart's love given. Ar-Feiniel she was called, the White Lady of the Noldor, for she was pale though her hair was dark, and she was never arrayed but in silver and white.

The sons of Finarfin were Finrod the faithful (who was afterwards named Felagund, Lord of Caves), Orodreth, Angrod, and Aegnor; these four were as close in friendship with the sons of Fingolfin as though they were all brothers. A sister they had, Galadriel, most beautiful of all the house of Finwë; her hair was lit with gold as though it had caught in a mesh the radiance of Laurelin.

Here must be told how the Teleri came at last to the land of Aman. Through a long age they dwelt in Tol Eressëa; but slowly their hearts were changed, and were drawn towards the light that flowed out over the sea to the Lonely Isle. They were torn between the love of the music of the waves upon their shores, and the desire to see again their kindred and to look upon the splendour of Valinor; but in the end desire of the light was the stronger. Therefore Ulmo, submitting to the will of the Valar, sent to them Ossë, their friend, and he though grieving taught them the craft of ship-building; and when their ships were built he brought them as his parting gift many strong-winged swans. Then the swans drew the white ships of the Teleri over the windless sea; and thus at last and latest they came to Aman and the shores of Eldamar.

There they dwelt, and if they wished they could see the light of the Trees, and could tread the golden streets of Valmar and the crystal stairs of Tirion upon Túna, the green hill; but most of all they sailed in their swift ships on the waters of the Bay of Elvenhome, or walked in the waves upon the shore with their hair gleaming in the light beyond the hill. Many jewels the Noldor gave them, opals and diamonds and pale crystals, which they strewed upon the shores and scattered in the pools; marvellous were the beaches of Elendë in those days. And many pearls they won for themselves from the sea, and their halls were of pearl, and of pearl were the mansions of Olwë at Alqualondë, the Haven of the Swans, lit with many lamps. For that was their city, and the haven of their ships; and those were made in the likeness of swans, with beaks of gold and eyes of gold and jet. The gate of that harbour was an arch of living rock sea-carved; and it lay upon the confines of Eldamar, north of the Calacirya, where the light of the stars was bright and clear.

As the ages passed the Vanyar grew to love the land of the Valar and the full light of the Trees, and they forsook the city of Tirion upon Túna, and dwelt thereafter upon the mountain of Manwë, or about the plains and woods of Valinor, and became sundered from the Noldor. But the memory of Middle-earth under the stars remained in the hearts of the Noldor, and they abode in the Calacirya, and in the hills and valleys within sound of the western sea; and though many of them went often about the land of the Valar, making far journeys in search of the secrets of land and water and all living things, yet the peoples of Túna and Alqualondë drew together in those days. Finwë was king in Tirion and Olwë in Alqualondë; but Ingwë was ever held the High King of all the Elves. He abode thereafter at the feet of Manwë upon Taniquetil.

Fëanor and his sons abode seldom in one place for long, but travelled far and wide upon the confines of Valinor, going even to the borders of the Dark and the cold shores of the Outer Sea, seeking the unknown. Often they were guests in the halls of Aulë; but Celegorm went rather to the house of Oromë, and there he got great knowledge of birds and beasts, and all their tongues he knew. For all living things that are or have been in the Kingdom of Arda, save only the fell and evil creatures of Melkor, lived then in the land of Aman; and there also were many other creatures that have not been seen upon Middle-earth, and perhaps never now shall be, since the fashion of the world was changed.


Chapter 6
Of Fëanor and the Unchaining of Melkor

Now the Three Kindreds of the Eldar were gathered at last in Valinor, and Melkor was chained. This was the Noontide of the Blessed Realm, the fullness of its glory and its bliss, long in tale of years, but in memory too brief. In those days the Eldar became full-grown in stature of body and of mind, and the Noldor advanced ever in skill and knowledge; and the long years were filled with their joyful labours, in which many new things fair and wonderful were devised. Then it was that the Noldor first bethought them of letters, and Rúmil of Tirion was the name of the loremaster who first achieved fitting signs for the recording of speech and song, some for graving upon metal or in stone, others for drawing with brush or with pen.

In that time was born in Eldamar, in the house of the King in Tirion upon the crown of Túna, the eldest of the sons of Finwë, and the most beloved. Curufinwë was his name, but by his mother he was called Fëanor, Spirit of Fire; and thus he is remembered in all the tales of the Noldor.

Míriel was the name of his mother, who was called Serindë, because of her surpassing skill in weaving and needlework; for her hands were more skilled to fineness than any hands even among the Noldor. The love of Finwë and Míriel was great and glad, for it began in the Blessed Realm in the Days of Bliss. But in the bearing of her son Míriel was consumed in spirit and body; and after his birth she yearned for release from the labours of living. Ana when she had named mm, she said to Finwë: 'Never again shall I bear child; for strength that would have nourished the life of many has gone forth into Fëanor.'

Then Finwë was grieved, for the Noldor were in me youth of their days, and he desired to bring forth many children into the Miss of Aman; and he said: 'Surely there is healing in Aman? Here all weariness can find rest.' But when Míriel languished still, Finwë sought the counsel of Manwë, and Manwë delivered her to the care of Irmo in Lórien. At their parting (for a little while as he thought) Finwë was sad, for it seemed an unhappy chance that the mother should depart and miss the beginning at least of the childhood days of her son.

‘It is indeed unhappy,’ said Míriel, 'and I would weep, if I were not so weary. But hold me blameless in this, and in all that may come after.’

She went then to the gardens of Lórien and lay down to sleep; but though she seemed to sleep, her spirit indeed departed from her body, and passed in silence to the halls of Mandos. The maidens of Estë tended the body of Míriel, and it remained unwithered; but she did not return. Then Finwë lived in sorrow; and he went often to the gardens of Lórien, and sitting beneath the silver willows beside the body of his wife he called her by her names. But it was unavailing; and alone in all the Blessed Realm he was deprived of joy. After a while he went to Lórien no more.

An his love he gave thereafter to his son; and Fëanor grew swiftly, as if a secret fire were kindled within him. He was tall, and fair of face, and masterful, his eyes piercingly bright and his hair raven-dark; in the pursuit of all his purposes eager and steadfast. Few ever changed his courses by counsel, none by force. He became of all the Noldor, then or after, the most subtle in mind and the most skilled in hand. In his youth, bettering the work of Rúmil, he devised those letters which bear his name, and which the Eldar used ever after; and he it was who, first of the Noldor, discovered how gems greater and brighter than those of the earth might be made with skill. The first gems that Fëanor made were white and colourless, but being set under starlight they would blaze with blue and silver fires brighter than Helluin; and other crystals he made also, wherein things far away could be seen small but clear, as with the eyes of the eagles of Manwë. Seldom were the hands and mind of Fëanor at rest.

While still in his early youth he wedded Nerdanel, the daughter of a great smith named Mahtan, among those of the Noldor most dear to Aulë; and of Mahtan he learned much of the making of things in metal and in stone. Nerdanel also was firm of will, but more patient than Fëanor, desiring to understand minds rather than to master them, and at first she restrained him when the fire of his heart grew too hot; but his later deeds grieved her, and they became estranged. Seven sons she bore to Fëanor; her mood she bequeathed in part to some of them, but not to all.

Now it came to pass that Finwë took as his second wife Indis the Fair. She was a Vanya, close kin of Ingwë the High King, golden-haired and tall, and in all ways unlike Míriel. Finwë loved her greatly, and was glad again. But the shadow of Míriel did not depart from the house of Finwë, nor from his heart; and of all whom he loved Fëanor had ever the chief share of his thought.

The wedding of his father was not pleasing to Fëanor; and he had no great love for Indis, nor for Fingolfin and Finarfin, her sons. He lived apart from them, exploring the land of Aman, or busying himself with the knowledge and the crafts in which he delighted. In those unhappy things which later came to pass, and in which Fëanor was the leader, many saw the effect of this breach within the house of Finwë, judging that if Finwë had endured his loss and been content with the fathering of his mighty son, the courses of Fëanor would have been otherwise, and great evil might have been prevented; for the sorrow and the strife in the house of Finwë is graven in the memory of the Noldorin Elves. But the children of Indis were great and glorious, and their children also; and if they had not lived the history of the Eldar would have been diminished.

Now even while Fëanor and the craftsmen of the Noldor worked with delight, foreseeing no end to their labours, and while the sons of Indis grew to their full stature, the Noontide of Valinor was drawing to its close. For it came to pass that Melkor, as the Valar had decreed, completed the term of his bondage, dwelling for three ages in the duress of Mandos, alone. At length, as Manwë had promised, he was brought again before the thrones of the Valar. Then he looked upon their glory and their bliss, and envy was in his heart; he looked upon the Children of Ilúvatar that sat at the feet of the Mighty, and hatred filled him; he looked upon the wealth of bright gems, and he lusted for them; but he hid his thoughts, and postponed his vengeance.

Before the gates of Valmar Melkor abased himself at the feet of Manwë and sued for pardon, vowing that if he might be made only the least of the free people of Valinor he would aid the Valar in all their works, and most of all in the healing of the many hurts that he had done to the world. And Nienna aided his prayer; but Mandos was silent

Then Manwë granted him pardon; but the Valar would not yet suffer him to depart beyond their sight and vigilance, and he was constrained to dwell within the gates of Valmar. But fair-seeming were all the words and deeds of Melkor in that time, and both the Valar and the Eldar had profit from his aid and counsel, if they sought it; and therefore in a while he was given leave to go freely about the land, and it seemed to Manwë that the evil of Melkor was cured. For Manwë was free from evil and could not comprehend it, and he knew that in the beginning, in the thought of Ilúvatar, Melkor had been even as he; and he saw not to the depths of Melkor’s heart, and did not perceive that all love had departed from him for ever. But Ulmo was not deceived, and Tulkas clenched his hands whenever he saw Melkor his foe go by; for if Tulkas is slow to wrath he is slow also to forget. But they obeyed the judgement of Manwë; for those who will defend authority against rebellion must not themselves rebel.

Now in his heart Melkor most hated the Eldar, both because they were fair and joyful and because in them he saw the reason for the arising of the Valar, and his own downfall. Therefore all the more did he feign love for them and seek their friendship, and he offered them the service of his lore and labour in any great deed that they would do. The Vanyar indeed held him in suspicion, for they dwelt in the light of the Trees and were content; and to the Teleri he gave small heed, thinking them of little worth, tools too weak for his designs. But the Noldor took delight in the hidden knowledge that he could reveal to them; and some hearkened to words that it would have been better for them never to have heard. Melkor indeed declared afterwards that Fëanor had learned much art from him in secret, and had been instructed by him in the greatest of all his works; but he lied in his lust and his envy, for none of the Eldalië ever hated Melkor more than Fëanor son of Finwë, who first named him Morgoth; and snared though he was in the webs of Melkor's malice against the Valar he held no converse with him and took no counsel from him. For Fëanor was driven by the fire of his own heart only, working ever swiftly and alone; and he asked the aid and sought the counsel of none that dwelt in Aman, great or small, save only and for a little while of Nerdanel the wise, his wife.


Chapter 7
Of the Silmarils and the Unrest of the Noldor

In that time were made those things that afterwards were most renowned of all the works of the Elves. For Fëanor, being come to his full might, was filled with a new thought, or it may be that some shadow of foreknowledge came to him of the doom that drew near; and he pondered how the light of the Trees, the glory of the Blessed Realm, might be preserved imperishable. Then he began a long and secret labour, and he summoned all his lore, and his power, and his subtle skill; and at the end of all he made the Silmarils.

As three great Jewels they were in form. But not until the End, when Fëanor shall return who perished ere the Sun was made, and sits now in the Halls of Awaiting and comes no more among his kin; not until the Sun passes and the Moon falls, shall it be known of what substance they were made. Like the crystal of diamonds it appeared, and yet was more strong than adamant, so that no violence could mar it or break it within the Kingdom of Arda. Yet that crystal was to the Silmarils but as is the body to the Children of Ilúvatar: the house of its inner fire, that is within it and yet in all parts of it, and is its life. And the inner fire of the Silmarils Fëanor made of the blended light of the Trees of Valinor, which lives in them yet, though the Trees have long withered and shine no more. Therefore even in the darkness of the deepest treasury the Silmarils of their own radiance shone like the stars of Varda; and yet, as were they indeed living things, they rejoiced in light and received it and gave it back in hues more marvellous than before.

All who dwelt in Aman were filled with wonder and delight at the work of Fëanor. And Varda hallowed the Silmarils, so that thereafter no mortal flesh, nor hands unclean, nor anything of evil will might touch them, but it was scorched and withered; and Mandos foretold that the fates of Arda, earth, sea, and air, lay locked within them. The heart of Fëanor was fast bound to these things that he himself had made.

Then Melkor lusted for the Silmarils, and the very memory of their radiance was a gnawing fire in his heart. From that time forth, inflamed by this desire, he sought ever more eagerly how he should destroy Fëanor and end the friendship of the Valar and the Elves; but he dissembled his purposes with cunning, and nothing of his malice could yet be seen in the semblance that he wore. Long was he at work, and slow at first and barren was his labour. But he that sows lies in the end shall not lack of a harvest, and soon he may rest from toil indeed while others reap and sow in his stead. Ever Melkor found some ears that would heed him, and some tongues that would enlarge what they had heard; and his lies passed from friend to friend, as secrets of which the knowledge proves the teller wise. Bitterly did the Noldor atone for the folly of their open ears in the days that followed after.

When he saw that many leaned towards him, Melkor would often walk among them, and amid his fair words others were woven, so subtly that many who heard them believed in recollection that they arose from their own thought. Visions he would conjure in their hearts of the mighty realms that they could have ruled at their own will, in power and freedom in the East; and then whispers went abroad that the Valar had brought the Eldar to Aman because of their jealousy, fearing that the beauty of the Quendi and the makers' power that Ilúvatar had bequeathed to them would grow too great for the Valar to govern, as the Elves waxed and spread over the wide lands of the world.

In those days, moreover, though the Valar knew indeed of the coming of Men that were to be, the Elves as yet knew naught of it; for Manwë had not revealed it to them. Bat Melkor spoke to them in secret of Mortal Men, seeing how the silence of the Valar might be twisted to evil. Little he knew yet concerning Men, for engrossed with his own thought in the Music he had paid small heed to the Third Theme of Ilúvatar; but now the whisper went among the Elves that Manwë held them captive, so that Men might come and supplant them in the kingdoms of Middle-earth, for the Valar saw that they might more easily sway this short-lived and weaker race, defrauding the Elves of the inheritance of Ilúvatar. Small truth was there in this, and little have the Valar ever prevailed to sway the wills of Men; but many of the Noldor believed, or half believed, the evil words.

Thus ere the Valar were aware, the peace of Valinor was poisoned. The Noldor began to murmur against them, and many became filled with pride, forgetting how much of what they had and knew came to them in gift from the Valar. Fiercest burned the new flame of desire for freedom and wider realms in the eager heart of Fëanor; and Melkor laughed in his secrecy, for to that mark his lies had been addressed, hating Fëanor above all, and lusting ever for the Silmarils. But these he was not suffered to approach; for though at great feasts Fëanor would wear them, blazing on his brow, at other times they were guarded close, locked in the deep chambers of his hoard in Tirion. For Fëanor began to love the Silmarils with a greedy love, and grudged the sight of them to all save to his father and his seven sons; he seldom remembered now that the light within them was not his own.

High princes were Fëanor and Fingolfin, the elder sons of Finwë, honoured by all in Aman; but now they grew proud and jealous each of his rights and his possessions. Then Melkor set new lies abroad in Eldamar, and whispers came to Fëanor that Fingolfin and his sons were plotting to usurp the leadership of Finwë and of the elder line of Fëanor, and to supplant them by the leave of the Valar; for the Valar were ill-pleased that the Silmarils lay in Tirion and were not committed to their keeping. But to Fingolfin and Finarfin it was said: 'Beware! Small love has the proud son of Míriel ever had for the children of Indis. Now he has become great, and he has his father in his hand. It will not be long before he drives you forth from Túna!'

And when Melkor saw that these lies were smouldering, and that pride and anger were awake among the Noldor, he spoke to them concerning weapons; and in that time the Noldor began the smithying of swords and axes and spears. Shields also they made displaying the tokens of many houses and kindreds that vied one with another; and these only they wore abroad, and of other weapons they did not speak, for each believed that he alone had received the warning. And Fëanor made a secret forge, of which not even Melkor was aware; and there he tempered fell swords for himself and for his sons, and made tall helms with plumes of red. Bitterly did Mahtan rue the day when he taught to the husband of Nerdanel all the lore of metalwork that he had learned of Aulë.

Thus with lies and evil whisperings and false counsel Melkor kindled the hearts of the Noldor to strife; and of their quarrels came at length the end of the high days of Valinor and the evening of its ancient glory. For Fëanor now began openly to speak words of rebellion against the Valar, crying aloud that he would depart from Valinor back to the world without, and would deliver the Noldor from thraldom, if they would follow him.

Then there was great unrest in Tirion, and Finwë was troubled; and he summoned all his lords to council. But Fingolfin hastened to his halls and stood before him, saying: 'King and father, wilt thou not restrain the pride of our brother, Curufinwë, who is called the Spirit of Fire, all too truly? By what right does he speak for all our people, as if he were King? Thou it was who long ago spoke before the Quendi, bidding them accept the summons of the Valar to Aman. Thou it was that led the Noldor upon the long road through the perils of Middle-earth to the light of Eldamar. If thou dost not now repent of it, two sons at least thou hast to honour thy words.'

But even as Fingolfin spoke, Fëanor strode into the chamber, and he was fully armed: his high helm upon his head, and at his side a mighty sword. 'So it is, even as I guessed,' he said. 'My half-brother would be before me with my father, in this as in all other matters.' Then turning upon Fingolfin he drew his sword, crying: 'Get thee gone, and take thy due place!'

Fingolfin bowed before Finwë, and without word or glance to Fëanor he went from the chamber. But Fëanor followed him, and at the door of the king's house he stayed him; and the point of his bright sword he set against Fingolfin's breast 'See, half-brother!' he said. 'This is sharper than thy tongue. Try but once more to usurp my place and the love of my father, and maybe it will rid the Noldor of one who seeks to be the master of thralls.'

These words were heard by many, for the house of Finwë was in the great square beneath the Mindon; but again Fingolfin made no answer, and passing through the throng in silence he went to seek Finarfin his brother.

Now the unrest of the Noldor was not indeed hidden from the Valar, but its seed had been sown in the dark; and therefore, since Fëanor first spoke openly against them, they judged that he was the mover of discontent, being eminent in self-will and arrogance, though all the Noldor had become proud. And Manwë was grieved, but he watched and said no word. The Valar had brought the Eldar to their land freely, to dwell or to depart; and though they might judge departure to be folly, they might not restrain them from it. But now the deeds of Fëanor could not be passed over, and the Valar were angered and dismayed; and he was summoned to appear before them at the gates of Valmar, to answer for all his words and deeds. There also were summoned all others who had any part in this matter, or any knowledge of it; and Fëanor standing before Mandos in the Ring of Doom was commanded to answer all that was asked of him. Then at last the root was laid bare, and the malice of Melkor revealed; and straightway Tulkas left the council to lay hands upon him and bring him again to judgement. But Fëanor was not held guiltless, for he it was that had broken the peace of Valinor and drawn his sword upon his kinsman; and Mandos said to him: 'Thou speakest of thraldom. If thraldom it be, thou canst not escape it; for Manwë is King of Arda, and not of Aman only. And this deed was unlawful, whether in Aman or not in Aman. Therefore this doom is now made: for twelve years thou shall leave Tirion where this threat was uttered. In that time take counsel with thyself, and remember who and what thou art. But after that time this matter shall be set in peace and held redressed, if others will release thee.'

Then Fingolfin said: 'I will release my brother.' But Fëanor spoke no word in answer, standing silent before the Valar. Then he turned and left the council, and departed from Valmar.

With him into banishment went his seven sons, and northward in Valinor they made a strong place and treasury in the hills; and there at Formenos a multitude of gems were laid in hoard, and weapons also, and the Silmarils were shut in a chamber of iron. Thither also came Finwë the King, because of the love that he bore to Fëanor; and Fingolfin ruled the Noldor in Tirion. Thus the lies of Melkor were made true in seeming, though Fëanor by his own deeds had brought this thing to pass; and the bitterness that Melkor had sown endured, and lived still long afterwards between the sons of Fingolfin and Fëanor.

Now Melkor, knowing that his devices had been revealed, hid himself and passed from place to place as a cloud in the hills; and Tulkas sought for him in vain. Then it seemed to the people of Valinor that the light of the Trees was dimmed, and the shadows of all standing things grew longer and darker in that time.

It is told that for a time Melkor was not seen again in Valinor, nor was any rumour heard of him, until suddenly he came to Formenos, and spoke with Fëanor before his doors. Friendship he feigned with cunning argument, urging him to his former thought of flight from the trammels of the Valar; and he said: 'Behold the truth of all that I have spoken, and how thou art banished unjustly. But if the heart of Fëanor is yet free and bold as were his words in Tirion, then I will aid him, and bring him far from this narrow land. For am I not Vala also? Yea, and more than those who sit in pride in Valimar; and I have ever been a friend to the Noldor, most skilled and most valiant of the people of Arda.'

Now Fëanor's heart was still bitter at his humiliation before Mandos, and he looked at Melkor in silence, pondering if indeed he might yet trust him so far as to aid him in his flight. And Melkor, seeing that Fëanor wavered, and knowing that the Silmarils held his heart in thrall, said at the last: 'Here is a strong place, and well guarded; but think not that the Silmarils will lie safe in any treasury within the realm of the Valar!'

But his cunning overreached his aim; his words touched too deep, and awoke a fire more fierce than he designed; and Fëanor looked upon Melkor with eyes that burned through his fair semblance and pierced the cloaks of his mind, perceiving there his fierce lust for the Silmarils. Then hate overcame Fëanor's fear, and he cursed Melkor and bade him be gone, saying: 'Get thee gone from my gate, thou jail-crow of Mandos!' And he shut the doors of his house in the face of the mightiest of all the dwellers in Eä.

Then Melkor departed in shame, for he was himself in peril, and he saw not his time yet for revenge; but his heart was black with anger. And Finwë was filled with great fear, and in haste he sent messengers to Manwë in Valmar.

Now the Valar were sitting in council before their gates, fearing the lengthening of the shadows, when the messengers came from Formenos. At once Oromë and Tulkas sprang up, but even as they set out in pursuit messengers came from Eldamar, telling that Melkor had fled through the Calacirya, and from the hill of Túna the Elves had seen him pass in wrath as a thundercloud. And they said that thence he had turned northward, for the Teleri in Alqualondë had seen his shadow going by their haven towards Araman.

Thus Melkor departed from Valinor, and for a while the Two Trees shone again unshadowed, and the land was filled with light. But the Valar sought in vain for tidings of their enemy; and as a cloud far off that looms ever higher, borne upon a slow cold wind, a doubt now marred the joy of all the dwellers in Aman, dreading they knew not what evil that yet might come.


Chapter 8
Of the Darkening of Valinor

When Manwë heard of the ways that Melkor had taken, it seemed plain to him that he purposed to escape to his old strongholds in the north of Middle-earth; and Oromë and Tulkas went with all speed northward, seeking to overtake him if they might, but they found no trace or rumour of him beyond the shores of the Teleri, in the unpeopled wastes that drew near to the Ice. Thereafter the watch was redoubled along the northern fences of Aman; but to no purpose, for ere ever the pursuit set out Melkor had turned back, and in secrecy passed away far to the south. For he was yet as one of the Valar, and could change his form, or walk unclad, as could his brethren; though that power he was soon to lose for ever.

Thus unseen he came at last to the dark region of Avathar. That narrow land lay south of the Bay of Eldamar, beneath the eastern feet of the Pelóri, and its long and mournful shores stretched away into the south, lightless and unexplored. There, beneath the sheer walls of the mountains and the cold dark sea, the shadows were deepest and thickest in the world; and there in Avathar, secret and unknown, Ungoliant had made her abode. The Eldar knew not whence she came; but some have said that in ages long before she descended from the darkness that lies about Arda, when Melkor first looked down in envy upon the Kingdom of Manwë, and that in the beginning she was one of those that he corrupted to his service. But she had disowned her Master, desiring to be mistress of her own lust, taking all things to herself to feed her emptiness; and she fled to the south, escaping the assaults of the Valar and the hunters of Oromë, for their vigilance had ever been to the north, and the south was long unheeded. Thence she had crept towards the light of the Blessed Realm; for she hungered for light and hated it.

In a ravine she lived, and took shape as a spider of monstrous form, weaving her black webs in a cleft of the mountains. There she sucked up all light that she could find, and spun it forth again in dark nets of strangling gloom, until no light more could come to her abode; and she was famished.

Now Melkor came to Avathar and sought her out; and he put on again the form that he had worn as the tyrant of Utumno: a dark Lord, tall and terrible. In that form he remained ever after. There in the black shadows, beyond the sight even of Manwë in his highest halls, Melkor with Ungoliant plotted his revenge. But when Ungoliant understood the purpose of Melkor, she was torn between lust and great fear; for she was loath to dare the perils of Aman and the power of the dreadful Lords, and she would not stir from her hiding. Therefore Melkor said to her: 'Do as I bid; and if thou hunger still when all is done, then I will give thee whatsoever thy lust may demand. Yea, with both hands.' Lightly he made this vow, as he ever did; and he laughed in his heart. Thus did the great thief set his lure for the lesser.

A cloak of darkness she wove about them when Melkor and Ungoliant set forth; an Unlight, in which things seemed to be no more, and which eyes could not pierce, for it was void. Then slowly she wrought her webs: rope by rope from cleft to cleft, from jutting rock to pinnacle of stone, ever climbing upwards, crawling and clinging, until at last she reached the very summit of Hyarmentir, the highest mountain in that region of the world, far south of great Taniquetil. There the Valar were not vigilant; for west of the Pelóri was an empty land in twilight, and eastward the mountains looked out, save for forgotten Avathar, only upon the dim waters of the pathless sea. But now upon the mountain-top dark Ungoliant lay; and she made a ladder of woven ropes and cast it down, and Melkor climbed upon it and came to that high place, and stood beside her, looking down upon the Guarded Realm. Below them lay the woods of Oromë, and westward shimmered the fields and pastures of Yavanna, gold beneath the tall wheat of the gods. Bat Melkor looked north, and saw afar the shining plain, and the silver domes of Valmar gleaming in the mingling of the lights of Telperion and Laurelin. Then Melkor laughed aloud, and leapt swiftly down the long western slopes; and Ungoliant was at his side, and her darkness covered them.

Now it was a time of festival, as Melkor knew well. Though all tides and seasons were at the will of the Valar, and in Valinor there was no winter of death, nonetheless they dwelt then in the Kingdom of Arda, and that was but a small realm in the halls of Eä, whose life is Time, which flows ever from the first note to the last chord of Eru. And even as it was then the delight of the Valar (as is told in the Ainulindalë) to clothe themselves as in a vesture in the forms of the Children of Ilúvatar, so also did they eat and drink, and gather the fruits of Yavanna from the Earth, which under Eru they had made.

Therefore Yavanna set times for the flowering and the ripening of all things mat grew in Valinor; and at each first gathering of fruits Manwë made a high feast for the praising of Eru, when all the peoples of Valinor poured forth their joy in music and song upon Taniquetil. This now was the hour, and Manwë decreed a feast more glorious than any that had been held since the coming of the Eldar to Aman. For though the escape of Melkor portended toils and sorrows to come, and indeed none could tell what further hurts would be done to Arda ere he could be subdued again, at this time Manwë designed to heal the evil that had arisen among the Noldor; and all were bidden to come to his halls upon Taniquetil, there to put aside the griefs that lay between their princes, and forget utterly the lies of their Enemy. There came the Vanyar, and there came the Noldor of Tirion, and the Maiar were gathered together, and the Valar were arrayed in their beauty and majesty; and they sang before Manwë and Varda in their lofty halls, or danced upon the green slopes of the Mountain that looked west towards the Trees. In that day the streets of Valmar were empty, and the stairs of Tirion were silent; and all the land lay sleeping in peace. Only the Teleri beyond the mountains still sang upon the shores of the sea; for they recked little of seasons or times, and gave no thought to the cares of the Rulers of Arda, or the shadow that had fallen on Valinor, for it had not touched them, as yet.

One thing only marred the design of Manwë. Fëanor came indeed, for him alone Manwë had commanded to come; but Finwë came not, nor any others of the Noldor of Formenos. For said Finwë: 'While the ban lasts upon Fëanor my son, that he may not go to Tirion, I hold myself unkinged, and I will not meet my people.' And Fëanor came not in raiment of festival, and he wore no ornament, neither silver nor gold nor any gem; and he denied the sight of the Silmarils to the Valar and the Eldar, and left them locked in Formenos in their chamber of iron. Nevertheless he met Fingolfin before the throne of Manwë, and was reconciled, in word; and Fingolfin set at naught the unsheathing of the sword. For Fingolfin held forth his hand, saying: 'As I promised, I do now. I release thee, and remember no grievance.'

Then Fëanor took his hand in silence; but Fingolfin said: 'Half-brother in blood, full brother in heart will I be. Thou shalt lead and I will follow. May no new grief divide as.'

'I hear thee,' said Fëanor. 'So be it.' But they did not know the meaning that their words would bear.

It is told that even as Fëanor and Fingolfin stood before Manwë there came the mingling of the lights, when both Trees were shining, and the silent city of Valmar was filled with a radiance of silver and gold. And in that very hour Melkor and Ungoliant came hastening over the fields of Valinor, as the shadow of a black cloud upon the wind fleets over the sunlit earth; and they came before the green mound Ezellohar. Then the Unlight of Ungoliant rose up even to the roots of the Trees, and Melkor sprang upon the mound; and with his black spear he smote each Tree to its core, wounded them deep, and their sap poured forth as it were their blood, and was spilled upon the ground. But Ungoliant sucked it up, and going then from Tree to Tree she set her black beak to their wounds, till they were drained; and the poison of Death that was in her went into their tissues and withered them, root, branch, and leaf; and they died. And still she thirsted, and going to the Wells of Varda she drank them dry; but Ungoliant belched forth black vapours as she drank, and swelled to a shape so vast and hideous that Melkor was afraid.

So the great darkness fell upon Valinor. Of the deeds of that day much is told in the Aldudénië, that Elemmírë of the Vanyar made and is known to all the Eldar. Yet no song or tale could contain all the grief and terror that then befell. The Light failed; but the Darkness that followed was more than loss of light. In that hour was made a Darkness that seemed not lack but a thing with being of its own: for it was indeed made by malice out of Light, and it had power to pierce the eye, and to enter heart and mind, and strangle the very will.

Varda looked down from Taniquetil, and beheld the Shadow soaring up in sudden towers of gloom; Valmar had foundered in a deep sea of night. Soon the Holy Mountain stood alone, a last island in a world that was drowned. All song ceased. There was silence in Valinor, and no sound could be heard, save only from afar there came on the wind through the pass of the mountains the wailing of the Teleri like the cold cry of gulls. For it blew chill from the East in that hour, and the vast shadows of the sea were rolled against the walls of the shore.

But Manwë from his high seat looked out, and his eyes alone pierced through the night, until they saw a Darkness beyond dark which they could not penetrate, huge but far away, moving now northward with great speed; and he knew that Melkor had come and gone.

Then the pursuit was begun; and the earth shook beneath the horses of the host of Oromë, and the fire that was stricken from the hooves of Nahar was the first light that returned to Valinor. But so soon as any came up with the Cloud of Ungoliant the riders of the Valar were blinded and dismayed, and they were scattered, and went they knew not whither; and the sound of the Valaróma faltered and failed. And Tulkas was as one caught in a black net at night, and he stood powerless and beat the air in vain. But when the Darkness had passed, it was too late: Melkor had gone whither he would, and his vengeance was achieved.


Chapter 9
Of the Flight of the Noldor

After a time a great concourse gathered about the Ring of Doom; and the Valar sat in shadow, for it was night. But the stars of Varda now glimmered overhead, and the air was clear; for the winds of Manwë has driven away the vapours of death and rolled back the shadows of the sea. Then Yavanna arose and stood upon Ezellohar, the Green Mound, but it was bare now and black; and she laid her hands upon the Trees, but they were dead and dark, and each branch that she touched broke and fell lifeless at her feet. Then many voices were lifted in lamentation; and it seemed to those that mourned that they had drained to the dregs the cup of woe that Melkor had filled for them. But it was not so.

Yavanna spoke before the Valar, saying: "The Light of the Trees has passed away, and lives now only in the Silmarils of Fëanor. Foresighted was he! Even for those who are mightiest under Ilúvatar there is some work that they may accomplish once, and once only. The Light of the Trees I brought into being, and within Eä I can do so never again. Yet had I but a little of that light I could recall life to the Trees, ere their roots decay; and then our hurt should be healed, and the malice of Melkor be confounded.'

Then Manwë spoke and said: 'Hearest thou, Fëanor son of Finwë, the words of Yavanna? Wilt thou grant what she would ask?'

There was long silence, but Fëanor answered no word. Then Tulkas cried: 'Speak, O Noldo, yea or nay! But who shall deny Yavanna? And did not the light of the Silmarils come from her work in the beginning?'

But Aulë the Maker said: 'Be not hasty! We ask a greater thing than thou knowest. Let him have peace yet awhile.'

But Fëanor spoke then, and cried bitterly: 'For the less even as for the greater there is some deed that he may accomplish but once only; and in that deed his heart shall rest. It may be that I can unlock my jewels, but never again shall I make their like; and if I must break them, I shall break my heart, and I shall be slain; first of all the Eldar in Aman.'

'Not the first,' said Mandos, but they did not understand his word; and again there was silence, while Fëanor brooded in the dark. It seemed to him that he was beset in a ring of enemies, and the words of Melkor returned to him, saying that the Silmarils were not safe, if the Valar would possess them. 'And is he not Vala as are they,' said his thought, 'and does he not understand their hearts? Yea, a thief shall reveal thieves!' Then he cried aloud: 'This thing I will not do of free will. But if the Valar will constrain me, then shall I know indeed that Melkor is of their kindred.'

Then Mandos said: 'Thou hast spoken.' And Nienna arose and went up onto Ezellohar, and cast back her grey hood, and with her tears washed away the defilements of Ungoliant; and she sang in mourning for the bitterness of the world and the Marring of Arda.

But even as Nienna mourned, there came messengers from Formenos, and they were Noldor and bore new tidings of evil. For they told how a blind Darkness came northward, and in the midst walked some power for which there was no name, and the Darkness issued from it. But Melkor also was there, and he came to the house of Fëanor, and there he slew Finwë King of the Noldor before his doors, and spilled the first blood in the Blessed Realm; for Finwë alone had not fled from the horror of the Dark. And they told that Melkor had broken the stronghold of Formenos, and taken all the Jewels of the Noldor that were hoarded in that place; and the Silmarils were gone.

Then Fëanor rose, and lifting up his hand before Manwë he cursed Melkor, naming him Morgoth, the Black Foe of the World; and by that name only was he known to the Eldar ever after. And he cursed also the summons of Manwë and the hour in which he came to Taniquetil, thinking in the madness of his rage and grief that had he been at Formenos his strength would have availed more than to be slain also, as Melkor had purposed. Then Fëanor ran from the Ring of Doom, and fled into the night; for his father was dearer to him than the Light of Valinor or the peerless works of his hands; and who among sons, of Elves or of Men, have held their fathers of greater worth?

Many there grieved for the anguish of Fëanor, but his loss was not his alone; and Yavanna wept by the mound, in fear that the Darkness should swallow the last rays of the Light of Valinor for ever. For though the Valar did not yet understand fully what had befallen, they perceived that Melkor had called upon some aid that came from beyond Arda. The Silmarils had passed away, and all one it may seem whether Fëanor had said yea or nay to Yavanna; yet had he said yea at the first, before the tidings came from Formenos, it may be that his after deeds would have been other than they were. But now the doom of the Noldor drew near.

Meanwhile Morgoth escaping from the pursuit of the Valar came to the wastes of Araman. This land lay northward between the Mountains of the Pelóri and the Great Sea, as Avathar lay to the south; but Araman was a wider land, and between the shores and the mountains were barren plains, ever colder as the Ice drew nearer. Through this region Morgoth and Ungoliant passed in haste, and so came through the great mists of Oiomúrë to the Helcaraxë, where the strait between Araman and Middle-earth was filled with grinding ice; and he crossed over, and came back at last to the north of the Outer Lands. Together they went on, for Morgoth could not elude Ungoliant, and her cloud was still about him, and all her eyes were upon him; and they came to those lands that lay north of the Firth of Drengist. Now Morgoth was drawing near to the ruins of Angband, where his great western stronghold had been; and Ungoliant perceived his hope, and knew that here he would seek to escape from her, and she stayed him, demanding that he fulfil his promise.

'Blackheart!' she said. 'I have done thy bidding. But I hunger still.'

'What wouldst thou have more?' said Morgoth. 'Dost thou desire all the world for thy belly? I did not vow to give thee that. I am its Lord.'

'Not so much,' said Ungoliant. 'But thou hast a great treasure from Formenos; I will have all that. Yea, with both hands thou shalt give it'.

Then perforce Morgoth surrendered to her the gems that he bore with him, one by one and grudgingly; and she devoured them, and their beauty perished from the world. Huger and darker yet grew Ungoliant, but her lust was unsated. 'With one hand thou givest,' she said; 'with the left only. Open thy right hand.'

In his right hand Morgoth held close the Silmarils, and though they were locked in a crystal casket, they had begun to bum him, and his hand was clenched in pain; but he would not open it 'Nay!' he said. 'Thou hast had thy doe. For with my power that I put into thee thy work was accomplished. I need thee no more. These things thou shalt not have, nor see. I name them unto myself for ever. '

But Ungoliant had grown great, and he less by the power that had gone out of him; and she rose against him, and her cloud closed about him, and she enmeshed him in a web of clinging thongs to strangle him. Then Morgoth sent forth a terrible cry, that echoed in the mountains. Therefore that region was called Lammoth; for the echoes of his voice dwelt there ever after, so that any who cried aloud in that land awoke them, and all the waste between the hills and the sea was filled with a clamour as of voices in anguish. The cry of Morgoth in that hour was the greatest and most dreadful that was ever heard in the northern world; the mountains shook, and the earth trembled, and rocks were riven asunder. Deep in forgotten places that cry was heard. Far beneath the ruined halls of Angband, in vaults to which the Valar in the haste of their assault had not descended, Balrogs lurked still, awaiting ever the return of their Lord; and now swiftly they arose, and passing over Hithlum they came to Lammoth as a tempest of fire. With their whips of flame they smote asunder the webs of Ungoliant, and she quailed, and turned to flight, belching black vapours to cover her; and fleeing from the north she went down into Beleriand, and dwelt beneath Ered Gorgoroth, in that dark valley that was after called Nan Dungortheb, the Valley of Dreadful Death, because of the horror that she bred there. For other foul creatures of spider form had dwelt there since the days of the delving of Angband, and she mated with them, and devoured them; and even after Ungoliant herself departed, and went whither she would into the forgotten south of the world, her offspring abode there and wove their hideous webs. Of the fate of Ungoliant no tale tells. Yet some have said that she ended long ago, when in her uttermost famine she devoured herself at last.

And thus the fear of Yavanna that the Silmarils would be swallowed up and fall into nothingness did not come to pass; but they remained in the power of Morgoth. And he being freed gathered again all his servants that he could find, and came to the ruins of Angband. There he delved anew his vast vaults and dungeons, and above their gates he reared the threefold peaks of Thangorodrim, and a great reek of dark smoke was ever wreathed about them. There countless became the hosts of his beasts and his demons, and the race of the Orcs, bred long before, grew and multiplied in the bowels of the earth. Dark now fell the shadow on Beleriand, as is told hereafter, but in Angband Morgoth forged for himself a great crown of iron, and he called himself King of the World. In token of this he set the Silmarils in his crown. His hands were burned black by the touch of those hallowed jewels, and black they remained ever after; nor was he ever free from the pain of the burning, and the anger of the pain. That crown he never took from his head, though its weight became a deadly weariness. Never but once only did he depart for a while secretly from his domain in the North; seldom indeed did he leave the deep places of his fortress, but governed his armies from his northern throne. And once only also did he himself wield weapon, while his realm lasted.

For now, more than in the days of Utumno ere his pride was humbled, his hatred devoured him, and in the domination of his servants and the inspiring of them with lust of evil he spent his spirit. Nonetheless his majesty as one of the Valar long remained, though turned to terror, and before his face all save the mightiest sank into a dark pit of fear.

Now when it was known that Morgoth had escaped from Valinor and pursuit was unavailing, the Valar remained long seated in darkness in the Ring of Doom, and the Maiar and the Vanyar stood beside them and wept; but the Noldor for the most part returned to Tirion and mourned for the darkening of their fair city. Through the dim ravine of the Calacirya fogs drifted in from the shadowy seas and mantled its towers, and the lamp of the Mindon burned pale in the gloom.

Then suddenly Fëanor appeared in the city and called on all to come to the high court of the King upon the summit of Túna; but the doom of banishment that had been laid upon him was not yet lifted, and he rebelled against the Valar. A great multitude gathered swiftly, therefore, to hear what he would say; and the hill and an the stairs and streets that climbed upon it were lit with the light of many torches that each one bore in hand. Fëanor was a master of words, and his tongue had great power over hearts when he would use it; and that night he made a speech before the Noldor which they ever remembered. Fierce and few were his words, and filled with anger and pride; and hearing them the Noldor were stirred to madness. His wrath and his hate were given most to Morgoth, and yet well nigh all that he said came from the very lies of Morgoth himself; but he was distraught with grief for the slaying of his father, and with anguish for the rape of the Silmarils. He claimed now the kingship of all the Noldor, since Finwë was dead, and he scorned the decrees of the Valar.

'Why, O people of the Noldor,' he cried, 'why should we longer serve the jealous Valar, who cannot keep us nor even their own realm secure from their Enemy? And though he be now their foe, are not they and he of one kin? Vengeance calls me hence, but even were it otherwise I would not dwell longer in the same land with the kin of my father's slayer and of the thief of my treasure. Yet I am not the only valiant in this valiant people. And have ye not all lost your King? And what else have ye not lost, cooped here in a narrow land between the mountains and the sea?

'Here once was light, that the Valar begrudged to Middle-earth, but now dark levels all. Shall we mourn here deedless for ever, a shadow-folk, mist-haunting, dropping vain tears in the thankless sea? Or shall we return to our home? In Cuiviénen sweet ran the waters under unclouded stars, and wide lands lay about, where a free people might walk. There they lie still and await us who in our folly forsook them. Come away! Let the cowards keep this city!'

Long he spoke, and ever he urged the Noldor to follow him and by their own prowess to win freedom and great realms in the lands of the East, before it was too late; for he echoed the lies of Melkor, that the Valar had cozened them and would hold them captive so that Men might rule in Middle-earth. Many of the Eldar heard then for the first time of the Aftercomers. 'Fair shall the end be,' he cried, though long and hard shall be the road! Say farewell to bondage! But say farewell also to ease! Say farewell to the weak! Say farewell to your treasures! More still shall we make. Journey light: but bring with you your swords! For we will go further than Oromë, endure longer than Tulkas: we will never turn back from pursuit. After Morgoth to the ends of the Earth! War shall he have and hatred undying. But when we have conquered and have regained the Silmarils, then we and we alone shall be lords of the unsullied Light, and masters of the bliss and beauty of Arda. No other race shall oust us!'

Then Fëanor swore a terrible oath. His seven sons leapt straightway to his side and took the selfsame vow together, and red as blood shone their drawn swords in the glare of the torches. They swore an oath which none shall break, and none should take, by the name even of Ilúvatar, calling the Everlasting Dark upon them if they kept it not; and Manwë they named in witness, and Varda, and the hallowed mountain of Taniquetil, vowing to pursue with vengeance and hatred to the ends of the World Vala, Demon, Elf or Man as yet unborn, or any creature, great or small, good or evil, that time should bring forth unto the end of days, whoso should hold or take or keep a Silmaril from their possession.

Thus spoke Maedhros and Maglor and Celegorm, Curufin and Caranthir, Amrod and Amras, princes of the Noldor; and many quailed to hear the dread words. For so sworn, good or evil, an oath may not be broken, and it shall pursue oathkeeper and oathbreaker to the world's end. Fingolfin and Turgon his son therefore spoke against Fëanor, and fierce words awoke, so that once again wrath came near to the edge of swords. But Finarfin spoke softly, as was his wont, and sought to calm the Noldor, persuading them to pause and ponder ere deeds were done that could not be undone; and Orodreth, alone of his sons, spoke in like manner. Finrod was with Turgon, his friend; but Galadriel, the only woman of the Noldor to stand that day tall and valiant among the contending princes, was eager to be gone. No oaths she swore, but the words of Fëanor concerning Middle-earth had kindled in her heart, for she yearned to see the wide unguarded lands and to rule there a realm at her own will. Of like mind with Galadriel was Fingon Fingolfin's son, being moved also by Fëanor’s words, though he loved him little; and with Fingon stood as they ever did Angrod and Aegnor, sons of Finarfin. But these held their peace and spoke not against their fathers.

At length after long debate Fëanor prevailed, and the greater part of the Noldor there assembled he set aflame with the desire of new things and strange countries. Therefore when Finarfin spoke yet again for heed and delay, a great shout went up: 'Nay, let us be gone!' And straightway Fëanor and his sons began to prepare for the marching forth.

Little foresight could there be for those who dared to take so dark a road. Yet all was done in over-haste; for Fëanor drove them on, fearing lest in the cooling of their hearts his words should wane and other counsels yet prevail; and for all his proud words he did not forget the power of the Valar. But from Valmar no message came, and Manwë was silent. He would not yet either forbid or hinder Fëanor's purpose; for the Valar were aggrieved that they were charged with evil intent to the Eldar, or that any were held captive by them against their will. Now they watched and waited, for they did not yet believe that Fëanor could hold the host of the Noldor to his will.

And indeed when Fëanor began the marshalling of the Noldor for their setting-out, then at once dissension arose. For though he had brought the assembly in a mind to depart, by no means all were of a mind to take Fëanor as King. Greater love was given to Fingolfin and his sons, and his household and the most part of the dwellers in Tirion refused to renounce him, if he would go with them; and thus at the last as two divided hosts the Noldor set forth upon their bitter road. Fëanor and his following were in the van, but the greater host came behind under Fingolfin; and he marched against his wisdom, because Fingon his son so urged him, and because he would not be sundered from his people that were eager to go, nor leave them to the rash counsels of Fëanor. Nor did he forget his words before the throne of Manwë. With Fingolfin went Finarfin also and for like reasons; but most loath was he to depart. And of all the Noldor in Valinor, who were grown now to a great people, but one tithe refused to take the road: some for the love that they bore to the Valar (and to Aulë not least), some for the love of Tirion and the many things that they had made; none for fear of peril by the way.

But even as the trumpet sang and Fëanor issued from the gates of Tirion a messenger came at last from Manwë, saying: 'Against the folly of Fëanor shall be set my counsel only. Go not forth! For the hour is evil, and your road leads to sorrow that ye do not foresee. No aid will the Valar lend you in this quest; but neither will they hinder you; for this ye shall know: as ye came hither freely, freely shall ye depart. But thou Fëanor Finwë's son, by thine oath art exiled. The lies of Melkor thou shalt unlearn in bitterness. Vala he is, thou saist Then thou hast sworn in vain, for none of the Valar canst thou overcome now or ever within the halls of Eä, not though Eru whom thou namest had made thee thrice greater than thou art.'

But Fëanor laughed, and spoke not to the herald, but to the Noldor, saying: 'So! Then will this valiant people send forth the heir of their King alone into banishment with his sons only, and return to their bondage? But if any will come with me, I say to them: Is sorrow foreboded to you? But in Aman we have seen it. In Aman we have come through bliss to woe. The other now we will try: through sorrow to find joy; or freedom, at the least.'

Then turning to the herald he cried: 'Say this to Manwë Súlimo, High King of Arda: if Fëanor cannot overthrow Morgoth, at least he delays not to assail him, and sits not idle in grief. And it may be that Eru has set in me a fire greater than thou knowest. Such hurt at the least will I do to the Foe of the Valar that even the mighty in the Ring of Doom shall wonder to hear it. Yea, in the end they shall follow me. Farewell!'

In that hour the voice of Fëanor grew so great and so potent that even the herald of the Valar bowed before him as one full-answered, and departed; and the Noldor were over-ruled. Therefore they continued their march; and the House of Fëanor hastened before them along the coasts of Elendë: not once did they turn their eyes back to Tirion on the green hill of Túna. Slower and less eagerly came the host of Fingolfin after them. Of those Fingon was the foremost; but at the rear went Finarfin and Finrod, and many of the noblest and wisest of the Noldor; and often they looked behind them to see their fair city, until the lamp of the Mindon Eldaliéva was lost in the night. More than any others of the Exiles they carried thence memories of the bliss they had forsaken, and some even of the things that they had made there they took with them: a solace and a burden on the road.

Now Fëanor led the Noldor northward, because his first purpose was to follow Morgoth. Moreover Túna beneath Taniquetil was set nigh to the girdle of Arda, and there the Great Sea was immeasurably wide, whereas ever northward the sundering seas grew narrower, as the wasteland of Araman and the coasts of Middle-earth drew together. But as the mind of Fëanor cooled and took counsel he perceived overlate that all these great companies would never overcome the long leagues to the north, nor cross the seas at the last, save with the aid of ships; yet it would need long time and toil to build so great a fleet, even were there any among the Noldor skilled in that craft. He resolved now therefore to persuade the Teleri, ever friends to the Noldor, to join with them; and in his rebellion he thought that thus the bliss of Valinor might be further diminished and his power for war upon Morgoth be increased. He hastened then to Alqualondë, and spoke to the Teleri as he had spoken before in Tirion.

But the Teleri were unmoved by aught that he could say. They were grieved indeed at the going of their kinsfolk and long friends, but would rather dissuade them than aid them; and no ship would they lend, nor help in the building, against the will of the Valar. As for themselves, they desired now no other home but the strands of Eldamar, and no other lord than Olwë, prince of Alqualondë. And he had never lent ear to Morgoth, nor welcomed him to his land, and he trusted still that Ulmo and the other great among the Valar would redress the hurts of Morgoth, and that the night would pass yet to a new dawn. Then Fëanor grew wrathful, for he still feared delay; and hotly he spoke to Olwë. 'You renounce your friendship, even in the hour of our need,' he said. 'Yet you were glad indeed to receive our aid when you came at last to these shores, fainthearted loiterers, and wellnigh emptyhanded. In huts on the beaches would yon be dwelling still, had not the Noldor carved out your haven and toiled upon your walls.'

But Olwë answered: 'We renounce no friendship. But it may be the part of a friend to rebuke a friend's folly. And when the Noldor welcomed us and gave us aid, otherwise then you spoke: in the land of Aman we were to dwell for ever, as brothers whose houses stand side by side. But as for our white ships: those you gave us not. We learned not that craft from the Noldor, but from the Lords of the Sea; and the white timbers we wrought with our own hands, and the white sails were woven by our wives and our daughters. Therefore we will neither give them nor sell them for any league or friendship. For I say to you, Fëanor son of Finwë, these are to us as are the gems of the Noldor: the work of our hearts, whose like we shall not make again.'

Thereupon Fëanor left him, and sat in dark thought beyond the walls of Alqualondë, until his host was assembled. When he judged that his strength was enough, he went to the Haven of the Swans and began to man the ships that were anchored there and to take them away by force. But the Teleri withstood him, and cast many of the Noldor into the sea. Then swords were drawn, and a bitter fight was fought upon the ships, and about the lamplit quays and piers of the Haven, and even upon the great arch of its gate. Thrice the people of Fëanor were driven back, and many were slain upon either side; but the vanguard of the Noldor were succoured by Fingon with the foremost of the host of Fingolfin, who coming up found a battle joined and their own kin falling, and rushed in before they knew rightly the cause of the quarrel; some thought indeed that the Teleri had sought to waylay the march of the Noldor at the bidding of the Valar.

Thus at last the Teleri were overcome, and a great part of their mariners that dwelt in Alqualondë were wickedly slain. For the Noldor were become fierce and desperate, and the Teleri had less strength, and were armed for the most part but with slender bows. Then the Noldor drew away their white ships and manned their oars as best they might, and rowed them north along the coast. And Olwë called upon Ossë, but he came not, for it was not permitted by the Valar that the fight of the Noldor should be hindered by force. But Uinen wept for the mariners of the Teleri; and the sea rose in wrath against the slayers, so that many of the ships were wrecked and those in them drowned. Of the enslaving at Alqualondë more is told in that lament which is named Noldolantë, the Fall of the Noldor, that Maglor made ere he was lost.

Nonetheless the greater part of the Noldor escaped, and when the storm was past they held on their course, some by ship and some by land; but the way was long and ever more evil as they went forward. After they had marched for a great while in the unmeasured night, they came at length to the northern confines of the Guarded Realm, upon the borders of the empty waste of Araman which were mountainous and cold. There they beheld suddenly a dark figure standing high upon a rock that looked down upon the shore. Some say that it was Mandos himself, and no lesser herald of Manwë. And they heard a loud voice, solemn and terrible, that bade them stand and give ear. Then all halted and stood still, and from end to end of the hosts of the Noldor the voice was heard speaking the curse and prophecy which is called the Prophecy of the North, and the Doom of the Noldor. Much it foretold in dark words, which the Noldor understood not until the woes indeed after befell them; but all heard the curse that was uttered upon those that would not stay nor seek the doom and pardon of the Valar.

'Tears unnumbered ye shall shed; and the Valar will fence Valinor against you, and shut you out, so that not even the echo of your lamentation shall pass over the mountains. On the House of Fëanor the wrath of the Valar lieth from the West unto the uttermost East, and upon all that will follow them it shall be laid also. Their Oath shall drive them, and yet betray them, and ever snatch away the very treasures that they have sworn to pursue. To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well; and by treason of kin unto kin, and the fear of treason, shall this come to pass. The Dispossessed shall they be for ever.

'Ye have spilled the blood of your kindred unrighteously and have stained the land of Aman. For blood ye shall render blood, and beyond Aman ye shall dwell in Death's shadow. For though Eru appointed to you to die not in Eä, and no sickness may assail you, yet slain ye may be, and slain ye shall be: by weapon and by torment and by grief; and your houseless spirits shall come then to Mandos. There long shall ye abide and yearn for your bodies, and find little pity though all whom ye have slain should entreat for you. And those that endure in Middle-earth and come not to Mandos shall grow weary of the world as with a great burden, and shall wane, and become as shadows of regret before the younger race that cometh after. The Valar have spoken.'

Then many quailed; but Fëanor hardened his heart and said: 'We have sworn, and not lightly. This oath we will keep. We are threatened with many evils, and treason not least; but one thing is not said: that we shall suffer from cowardice, from cravens or the fear of cravens. Therefore I say that we will go on, and this doom I add: the deeds that we shall do shall be the matter of song until the last days of Arda.'

But in that hour Finarfin forsook the march, and turned back, being filled with grief, and with bitterness against the House of Fëanor, because of his kinship with Olwë of Alqualondë; and many of his people went with him, retracing their steps in sorrow, until they beheld once more the far beam of the Mindon upon Túna still shining in the night, and so came at last to Valinor. There they received the pardon of the Valar, and Finarfin was set to rule the remnant of the Noldor in the Blessed Realm. But his sons were not with him, for they would not forsake the sons of Fingolfin; and all Fingolfin's folk went forward still, feeling the constraint of their kinship and the will of Fëanor, and fearing to face the doom of the Valar, since not all of them had been guiltless of the Kinslaying at Alqualondë. Moreover Fingon and Turgon were bold and fiery of heart, and loath to abandon any task to which they had put their hands until the bitter end, if bitter it must be. So the main host held on, and swiftly the evil that was foretold began its work.

The Noldor came at last far into the north of Arda; and they saw the first teeth of the ice that floated in the sea, and knew that they were drawing nigh to the Helcaraxë. For between the land of Aman that in the north curved eastward, and the east-shores of Endor (which is Middle-earth) that bore westward, there was a narrow strait, through which the chill waters of the Encircling Sea and the waves of Belegaer flowed together, and there were vast fogs and mists of deathly cold, and the sea-streams were filled with clashing hills of ice and the grinding of ice deep-sunken. Such was the Helcaraxë, and there none yet had dared to tread save the Valar only and Ungoliant

Therefore Fëanor halted and the Noldor debated what course they should now take. But they began to suffer anguish from the cold, and the clinging mists through which no gleam of star could pierce; and many repented of the road and began to murmur, especially those that followed Fingolfin, cursing Fëanor, and naming him as the cause of all the woes of the Eldar. But Fëanor, knowing all that was said, took counsel with his sons; and two courses only they saw to escape from Araman and come into Endor: by the straits or by ship. But the Helcaraxë they deemed impassable, whereas the ships were too few. Many had been lost upon their long journey, and there remained now not enough to bear across all the great host together; yet none were willing to abide upon the western coast while others were ferried first: already the fear of treachery was awake among the Noldor. Therefore it came into the hearts of Fëanor and his sons to seize all the ships and depart suddenly; for they had retained the mastery of the fleet since the battle of the Haven, and it was manned only by those who had fought there and were bound to Fëanor. And as though it came at his call, there sprang up a wind from the north-west, and Fëanor slipped away secretly with all whom he deemed true to him, and went aboard, and put out to sea, and left Fingolfin in Araman. And since the sea was there narrow, steering east and somewhat south he passed over without loss, and first of all the Noldor set foot once more upon the shores of Middle-earth; and the landing of Fëanor was at the mouth of the firth which was called Drengist and ran into Dor-lómin.

But when they were landed, Maedhros the eldest of his sons, and on a time the friend of Fingon ere Morgoth's lies came between, spoke to Fëanor, saying: 'Now what ships and rowers will you spare to return, and whom shall they bear hither first? Fingon the valiant?'

Then Fëanor laughed as one fey, and he cried: 'None and none! What I have left behind I count now no loss; needless baggage on the road it has proved. Let those that cursed my name, curse me still, and whine their way back to the cages of the Valar! Let the ships burn!' Then Maedhros alone stood aside, but Fëanor caused fire to be set to the white ships of the Teleri. So in that place which was called Losgar at the outlet of the Firth of Drengist ended the fairest vessels that ever sailed the sea, in a great burning, bright and terrible. And Fingolfin and his people saw the light afar off, red beneath the clouds; and they knew that they were betrayed. This was the firstfruits of the Kinslaying and the Doom of the Noldor.

Then Fingolfin seeing that Fëanor had left him to perish in Araman or return in shame to Valinor was filled with bitterness; but he desired now as never before to come by some way to Middle-earth, and meet Fëanor again. And he and his host wandered long in misery, but their valour and endurance grew with hardship; for they were a mighty people, the elder children undying of Eru Ilúvatar, but new-come from the Blessed Realm, and not yet weary with the weariness of Earth. The fire of their hearts was young, and led by Fingolfin and his sons, and by Finrod and Galadriel, they dared to pass into the bitterest North; and finding no other way they endured at last the terror of the Helcaraxë and the cruel hills of ice. Few of the deeds of the Noldor thereafter surpassed that desperate crossing in hardihood or woe. There Elenwë the wife of Turgon was lost, and many others perished also; and it was with a lessened host that Fingolfin set foot at last upon the Outer Lands. Small love for Fëanor or his sons had those that marched at last behind him, and blew their trumpets in Middle-earth at the first rising of the Moon.


Chapter 10
Of the Sindar

Now as has been told the power of Elwë and Melian increased in Middle-earth, and all the Elves of Beleriand, from the mariners of Círdan to the wandering hunters of the Blue Mountains beyond the River Gelion, owned Elwë as their lord; Elu Thingol he was called, King Greymantle, in the tongue of his people. They are called the Sindar, the Grey-elves of starlit Beleriand; and although they were Moriquendi, under the lordship of Thingol and the teaching of Melian they became the fairest and the most wise and skilful of all the Elves of Middle-earth. And at the end of the first age of the Chaining of Melkor, when all the Earth had peace and the glory of Valinor was at its noon, there came into the world Lúthien, the only child of Thingol and Melian. Though Middle-earth lay for the most part in the Sleep of Yavanna, in Beleriand under the power of Melian there was life and joy, and the bright stars shone as silver fires; and there in the forest of Neldoreth Lúthien was born, and the white flowers of niphredil came forth to greet her as stars from the earth.

It came to pass during the second age of the captivity of Melkor that Dwarves came over the Blue Mountains of Ered Luin into Beleriand. Themselves they named Khazâd, but the Sindar called them Naugrim, the Stunted People, and Gonnhirrim, Masters of Stone. Far to the east were the most ancient dwellings of the Naugrim, but they had delved for themselves great halls and mansions, after the manner of their kind, in the eastern side of Ered Luin; and those cities were named in their own tongue Gabilgathol and Tumunzahar. To the north of the great height of Mount Dolmed was Gabilgathol, which the Elves interpreted in their tongue Belegost, that is Mickleburg; and southward was delved Tumunzahar, by the Elves named Nogrod, the Hollowbold. Greatest of all the mansions of the Dwarves was Khazâd-dûm, the Dwarrowdelf, Hadhodrond in the Elvish tongue, that was afterwards in the days of its darkness called Moria; but it was far off in the Mountains of Mist beyond the wide leagues of Eriador, and to the Eldar came but as a name and a rumour from the words of the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains.

From Nogrod and Belegost the Naugrim came forth into Beleriand; and the Elves were filled with amazement, for they had believed themselves to be the only living things in Middle-earth that spoke with words or wrought with hands, and that all others were but birds and beasts. But they could understand no word of the tongue of the Naugrim, which to their ears was cumbrous and unlovely; and few ever of the Eldar have achieved the mastery of it But the Dwarves were swift to learn, and indeed were more willing to learn the Elventongue than to teach their own to those of alien race. Few of the Eldar went ever to Nogrod and Belegost, save Eöl of Nan Elmoth and Maeglin his son; but the Dwarves trafficked into Beleriand, and they made a great road that passed under the shoulders of Mount Dolmed and followed the course of the River Ascar, crossing Gelion at Sarn Athrad, the Ford of Stones, where battle after befell. Ever cool was the friendship between the Naugrim and the Eldar, though much profit they had one of the other; but at that time those griefs that lay between them had not yet come to pass, and King Thingol welcomed them. But the Naugrim gave their friendship more readily to the Noldor in after days than to any others of Elves and Men, because of their love and reverence for Aulë; and the gems of the Noldor they praised above all other wealth. In the darkness of Arda already the Dwarves wrought great works, for even from the first days of their Fathers they had marvellous skill with metals and with stone; but in that ancient time iron and copper they loved to work, rather than silver or gold.

Now Melian had much foresight, after the manner of the Maiar; and when the second age of the captivity of Melkor had passed, she counselled Thingol that the Peace of Arda would not last for ever. He took thought therefore how he should make for himself a kingly dwelling, and a place that should be strong, if evil were to awake again in Middle-earth; and he sought aid and counsel of the Dwarves of Belegost They gave it willingly, for they were unwearied in those days and eager for new works; and though the Dwarves ever demanded a price for all that they did, whether with delight or with toil, at this time they held themselves paid. For Melian taught them much that they were eager to learn, and Thingol rewarded them with many fair pearls. These Círdan gave to him, for they were got in great number in the shallow waters about the Isle of Balar; but the Naugrim had not before seen their like, and they held them dear. One there was as great as a dove's egg, and its sheen was as starlight on the foam of the sea; Nimphelos it was named, and the chieftain of the Dwarves of Belegost prized it above a mountain of wealth.

Therefore the Naugrim laboured long and gladly for Thingol, and devised for him mansions after the fashion of their people, delved deep in the earth. Where the Esgalduin flowed down, and parted Neldoreth from Region, there rose in the midst of the forest a rocky hill, and the river ran at its feet. There they made the gates of the hall of Thingol, and they built a bridge of stone over the river, by which alone the gates could be entered. Beyond the gates wide passages ran down to high halls and chambers far below that were hewn in the living stone, so many and so great that that dwelling was named Menegroth, the Thousand Caves.

But the Elves also had part in that labour, and Elves and Dwarves together, each with their own skill, there wrought out the visions of Melian, images of the wonder and beauty of Valinor beyond the Sea. The pillars of Menegroth were hewn in the likeness of the beeches of Oromë, stock, bough, and leaf, and they were lit with lanterns of gold. The nightingales sang there as in the gardens of Lórien; and there were fountains of silver, and basins of marble, and floors of many-coloured stones. Carven figures of beasts and birds there ran upon the walls, or climbed upon the pillars, or peered among the branches entwined with many flowers. And as the years passed Melian and her maidens filled the halls with woven hangings wherein could be read the deeds of the Valar, and many things that had befallen in Arda since its beginning, and shadows of things that were yet to be. That was the fairest dwelling of any king that has ever been east of the Sea.

And when the building of Menegroth was achieved, and there was peace in the realm of Thingol and Melian, the Naugrim yet came ever and anon over the mountains and went in traffic about the lands; but they went seldom to the Falas, for they hated the sound of the sea and feared to look upon it. To Beleriand there came no other rumour or tidings of the world without.

But as the third age of the captivity of Melkor drew on, the Dwarves became troubled, and they spoke to King Thingol, saying that the Valar had not rooted out utterly the evils of the North, and now the remnant, having long multiplied in the dark, were coming forth once more and roaming far and wide. 'There are fell beasts,' they said, 'in the land east of the mountains, and your ancient kindred that dwell there are flying from the plains to the hills.'

And ere long the evil creatures came even to Beleriand, over passes in the mountains, or up from the south through the dark forests. Wolves there were, or creatures that walked in wolf-shapes, and other fell beings of shadow; and among them were the Orcs, who afterwards wrought ruin in Beleriand: but they were yet few and wary, and did but smell out the ways of the land, awaiting the return of their lord. Whence they came, or what they were, the Elves knew not then, thinking them perhaps to be Avari who had become evil and savage in the wild; in which they guessed all too near, it is said.

Therefore Thingol took thought for arms, which before his people had not needed, and these at first the Naugrim smithied for him; for they were greatly skilled in such work, though none among them surpassed the craftsmen of Nogrod, of whom Telchar the smith was greatest in renown. A warlike race of old were all the Naugrim, and they would fight fiercely against whomsoever aggrieved them: servants of Melkor, or Eldar, or Avari, or wild beasts, or not seldom their own kin, Dwarves of other mansions and lordships. Their smithcraft indeed the Sindar soon learned of them; yet in the tempering of steel alone of all crafts the Dwarves were never outmatched even by the Noldor, and in the making of mail of linked rings, which was first contrived by the smiths of Belegost, their work had no rival.

At this time therefore the Sindar were well-armed, and they drove off an creatures of evil, and had peace again; but Thingol's armouries were stored with axes and with spears and swords, and tall helms, and long coats of bright mail; for the hauberks of the Dwarves were so fashioned that they rusted not but shone ever as if they were new-burnished. And that proved well for Thingol in the time that was to come.

Now as has been told, one Lenwë of the host of Olwë forsook the march of the Eldar at that time when the Teleri were halted by the shores of the Great River upon the borders of the westlands of Middle-earth. Little is known of the wanderings of the Nandor, whom he led away down Anduin: some, it is said, dwelt age-long in the woods of the Vale of the Great River, some came at last to its mouths and there dwelt by the Sea, and yet others passing by Ered Nimrais, the White Mountains, came north again and entered the wilderness of Eriador between Ered Luin and the far Mountains of Mist. Now these were a woodland people and had no weapons of steel, and the coming of the fell beasts of the North filled them with great fear, as the Naugrim declared to King Thingol in Menegroth. Therefore Denethor, the son of Lenwë, hearing rumour of the might of Thingol and his majesty, and of the peace of his realm, gathered such host of his scattered people as he could, and led them over the mountains into Beleriand. There they were welcomed by Thingol, as kin long lost that return, and they dwelt in Ossiriand, the Land of Seven Rivers.

Of the long years of peace that followed after the coming of Denethor there is little tale. In those days, it is said, Daeron the Minstrel, chief loremaster of the kingdom of Thingol, devised his Runes; and the Naugrim that came to Thingol learned them, and were well-pleased with the device, esteeming Daeron's skill higher than did the Sindar, his own people. By the Naugrim the Cirth were taken east over the mountains and passed into the knowledge of many peoples; but they were little used by the Sindar for the keeping of records, until the days of the War, and much that was held in memory perished in the ruins of Doriath. But of bliss and glad life there is little to be said, before it ends; as works fair and wonderful, while still they endure for eyes to see, are their own record, and only when they are in peril or broken for ever do they pass into song.

In Beleriand in those days the Elves walked, and the rivers flowed, and the stars shone, and the night-flowers gave forth their scents; and the beauty of Melian was as the noon, and the beauty of Lúthien was as the dawn in spring. In Beleriand King Thingol upon his throne was as the lords of the Maiar, whose power is at rest, whose joy is as an air that they breathe in all their days, whose thought flows in a tide untroubled from the heights to the deeps. In Beleriand still at times rode Oromë the great, passing like a wind over the mountains, and the sound of his horn came down the leagues of the starlight, and the Elves feared him for the splendour of his countenance and the great noise of the onrush of Nahar; but when the Valaróma echoed in the hills, they knew well that all evil things were fled far away.

But it came to pass at last that the end of bliss was at hand, and the noontide of Valinor was drawing to its twilight. For as has been told and as is known to all, being written in lore and sung in many songs, Melkor slew the Trees of the Valar with the aid of Ungoliant, and escaped, and came back to Middle-earth. Far to the north befell the strife of Morgoth and Ungoliant; but the great cry of Morgoth echoed through Beleriand, and all its people shrank for fear; for though they knew not what it foreboded, they heard then the herald of death. Soon afterwards Ungoliant fled from the north and came into the realm of King Thingol, and a terror of darkness was about her; but by the power of Melian she was stayed, and entered not into Neldoreth, but abode long time under the shadow of the precipices in which Dorthonion fell southward. And they became known as Ered Gorgoroth, the Mountains of Terror, and none dared go thither, or pass nigh them; there life and light were strangled, and there all waters were poisoned. But Morgoth, as has before been told, returned to Angband, and built it anew, and above its doors he reared the reeking towers of Thangorodrim; and the gates of Morgoth were but one hundred and fifty leagues distant from the bridge of Menegroth: far and yet all too near.

Now the Orcs that multiplied in the darkness of the earth grew strong and fell, and their dark lord filled them with a lust of rain and death; and they issued from Angband's gates under the clouds that Morgoth sent forth, and passed silently into the highlands of the north. Thence on a sudden a great army came into Beleriand and assailed King Thingol. Now in his wide realm many Elves wandered free in the wild, or dwelt at peace in small kindreds far sundered; and only about Menegroth in the midst of the land, and along the Falas in the country of the mariners, were there numerous peoples. But the Orcs came down upon either side of Menegroth, and from camps in the east between Celon and Gelion, and west in the plains between Sirion and Narog, they plundered far and wide; and Thingol was cut on from Círdan at Eglarest. Therefore he called upon Denethor; and the Elves came in force from Region beyond Aros and from Ossiriand, and fought the first battle in the Wars of Beleriand. And the eastern host of the Orcs was taken between the armies of the Eldar, north of the Andram and midway between Aros and Gelion, and there they were utterly defeated, and those that fled north from the great slaughter were waylaid by the axes of the Naugrim that issued from Mount Dolmed: few indeed returned to Angband.

But the victory of the Elves was dear-bought For those of Ossiriand were light-armed, and no match for the Orcs, who were shod with iron and iron-shielded and bore great spears with broad blades; and Denethor was cut off and surrounded upon the hill of Amon Ereb. There he fell and all his nearest kin about him, before the host of Thingol could come to his aid. Bitterly though his fall was avenged, when Thingol came upon the rear of the Orcs and slew them in heaps, his people lamented him ever after and took no king again. After the battle some returned to Ossiriand, and their tidings filled the remnant of their people with great fear, so that thereafter they came never forth in open war, but kept themselves by wariness and secrecy; and they were called the Laiquendi, the Green-elves, because of their raiment of the colour of leaves. But many went north and entered the guarded realm of Thingol, and were merged with his people.

And when Thingol came again to Menegroth he learned that the Orc-host in the west was victorious, and had driven Círdan to the rim of the sea. Therefore he withdrew all his people that his summons could reach within the fastness of Neldoreth and Region, and Melian put forth her power and fenced all that dominion round about with an unseen wail of shadow and bewilderment: the Girdle of Melian, that none thereafter could pass against her will or the will of King Thingol, unless one should come with a power greater than that of Melian the Maia. And this inner land, which was long named Eglador, was after called Doriath, the guarded kingdom, Land of the Girdle. Within it there was yet a watchful peace; but without there was peril and great fear, and the servants of Morgoth roamed at will, save in the walled havens of the Falas.

But new tidings were at hand, which none in Middle-earth had foreseen, neither Morgoth in his pits nor Melian in Menegroth; for no news came out of Aman whether by messenger, or by spirit, or by vision in dream, after the death of the Trees. In this same time Fëanor came over the Sea in the white ships of the Teleri and landed in the Firth of Drengist, and there burned the ships at Losgar.


Chapter 11
Of the Sun and Moon and the Hiding of Valinor

It is told that after the flight of Melkor the Valar sat long unmoved upon their thrones in the Ring of Doom; but they were not idle, as Fëanor declared in the folly of his heart. For the Valar may work many things with thought rather than with hands, and without voices in silence they may hold council one with another. Thus they held vigil in the night of Valinor, and their thought passed back beyond Eä and forth to the End; yet neither power nor wisdom assuaged their grief, and the knowing of evil in the hour of its being. And they mourned not more for the death of the Trees than for the marring of Fëanor: of the works of Melkor one of the most evil. For Fëanor was made the mightiest in all parts of body and mind, in valour, in endurance, in beauty, in understanding, in skill, in strength and in subtlety alike, of all the Children of Ilúvatar, and a bright flame was in him. The works of wonder for the glory of Arda that he might otherwise have wrought only Manwë might in some measure conceive. And it was told by the Vanyar who held vigil with the Valar that when the messengers declared to Manwë the answers of Fëanor to his heralds, Manwë wept and bowed his head. But at that last word of Fëanor: that at the least the Noldor should do deeds to live in song for ever, he raised his head, as one that hears a voice far off, and he said: 'So shall it be! Dear-bought those songs shall be accounted, and yet shall be well-bought. For the price could be no other. Thus even as Eru spoke to us shall beauty not before conceived be brought into Eä, and evil yet be good to have been.'

But Mandos said: 'And yet remain evil. To me shall Fëanor come soon.'

But when at last the Valar learned that the Noldor had indeed passed out of Aman and were come back into Middle-earth, they arose and began to set forth in deeds those counsels which they had taken in thought for the redress of the evils of Melkor. Then Manwë bade Yavanna and Nienna to put forth all their powers of growth and healing; and they put forth all their powers upon the Trees. But the tears of Nienna availed not to heal their mortal wounds; and for a long while Yavanna sang alone in the shadows. Yet even as hope failed and her song faltered, Telperion bore at last upon a leafless bough one great flower of silver, and Laurelin a single trait of gold.

These Yavanna took; and then the Trees died, and their lifeless stems stand yet in Valinor, a memorial of vanished joy. But the flower and the fruit Yavanna gave to Aulë, and Manwë hallowed them, and Aulë and his people made vessels to hold them and preserve their radiance: as is said in the Narsilion, the Song of the Sun and Moon. These vessels the Valar gave to Varda, that they might become lamps of heaven, outshining the ancient stars, being nearer to Arda; and she gave them power to traverse the lower regions of Ilmen, and set them to voyage upon appointed courses above the girdle of the Earth from the West unto the East and to return.

These things the Valar did, recalling in their twilight the darkness of the lands of Arda; and they resolved now to illumine Middle-earth and with light to hinder the deeds of Melkor. For they remembered the Avari that remained by the waters of their awakening, and they did not utterly forsake the Noldor in exile; and Manwë knew also that the hour of the coming of Men was drawn nigh. And it is said indeed that, even as the Valar made war upon Melkor for the sake of the Quendi, so now for that time they forbore for the sake of the Hildor, the Aftercomers, the younger Children of Ilúvatar. For so grievous had been the hurts of Middle-earth in the war upon Utumno that the Valar feared lest even worse should now befall; whereas the Hildor should be mortal, and weaker than the Quendi to withstand fear and tumult. Moreover it was not revealed to Manwë where the beginning of Men should be, north, south, or east. Therefore the Valar sent forth light, but made strong the land of their dwelling.

Isil the Sheen the Vanyar of old named the Moon, flower of Telperion in Valinor; and Anar the Fire-golden, fruit of Laurelin, they named the Sun. But the Noldor named them also Rána, the Wayward, and Vása, the Heart of Fire, that awakens and consumes; for the Sun was set as a sign for the awakening of Men and the waning of the Elves, but the Moon cherishes their memory.

The maiden whom the Valar chose from among the Maiar to guide the vessel of the Sun was named Arien, and he that steered the island of the Moon was Tilion. In the days of the Trees Arien had tended the golden flowers in the gardens of Vána, and watered them with the bright dews of Laurelin; but Tilion was a hunter of the company of Oromë, and he had a silver bow. He was a lover of silver, and when he would rest he forsook the woods of Oromë, and going into Lórien he lay hi dream by the pools of Estë, in Telperion's flickering beams; and he begged to be given the task of tending for ever the last Flower of Silver. Arien the maiden was mightier than he, and she was chosen because she had not feared the heats of Laurelin, and was unhurt by them, being from the beginning a spirit of fire, whom Melkor had not deceived nor drawn to his service. Too bright were the eyes of Arien for even the Eldar to look on, and leaving Valinor she forsook the form and raiment which like the Valar she had worn there, and she was as a naked flame, terrible in the fullness of her splendour.

Isil was first wrought and made ready, and first rose into the realm of the stars, and was the elder of the new lights, as was Telperion of the Trees. Then for a while the world had moonlight, and many things stirred and woke that had waited long in the sleep of Yavanna. The servants of Morgoth were filled with amazement, but the Elves of the Outer Lands looked up in delight; and even as the Moon rose above the darkness in the west, Fingolfin let blow his silver trumpets and began his march into Middle-earth, and the shadows of his host went long and black before them.

Tilion had traversed the heaven seven times, and thus was in the furthest east, when the vessel of Arien was made ready. Then Anar arose in glory, and the first dawn of the Sun was like a great fire upon the towers of the Pelóri: the clouds of Middle-earth were kindled, and there was heard the sound of many waterfalls. Then indeed Morgoth was dismayed, and he descended into the uttermost depths of Angband, and withdrew his servants, sending forth great reek and dark cloud to hide his land from the light of the Day-star.

Now Varda purposed that the two vessels should journey in Ilmen and ever be aloft, but not together; each should pass from Valinor into the east and return, the one issuing from the west as the other turned from the east. Thus the first of the new days were reckoned after the manner of the Trees, from the mingling of the lights when Arien and Tilion passed in then- courses, above the middle of the Earth. But Tilion was wayward and uncertain in speed, and held not to his appointed path; and he sought to come near to Arien, being drawn by her splendour, though the flame of Anar scorched him, and the island of the Moon was darkened.

Because of the waywardness of Tilion, therefore, and yet more because of the prayers of Lórien and Estë, who said that sleep and rest had been banished from the Earth, and the stars were hidden, Varda changed her counsel, and allowed a time wherein the world should still have shadow and half-light. Anar rested therefore a while in Valinor, lying upon the cool bosom of the Outer Sea; and Evening, the time of the descent and resting of the Sun, was the hour of greatest light and joy in Aman. But soon the Sun was drawn down by the servants of Ulmo, and went then in haste under the Earth, and so came unseen to the east and there mounted the heaven again, lest night be over-long and evil walk under the Moon. But by Anar the waters of the Outer Sea were made hot and glowed with coloured fire, and Valinor had light for a while after the passing of Arien. Yet as she journeyed under the Earth and drew towards the east the glow faded and Valinor was dim, and the Valar mourned then most for the death of Laurelin. At dawn the shadows of the Mountains of Defence lay heavy on the Blessed Realm.

Varda commanded the Moon to journey in like manner, and passing under Earth to arise in the east, but only after the Sun had descended from heaven. But Tilion went with uncertain pace, as yet he goes, and was still drawn towards Arien, as he shall ever be; so that often both may be seen above the Earth together, or at times it will chance that he comes so nigh that his shadow cuts off her brightness and there is a darkness amid the day.

Therefore by the coming and going of Anar the Valar reckoned the days thereafter until the Change of the World. For Tilion tamed seldom in Valinor, but more often would pass swiftly over the western land, over Avathar, or Araman, or Valinor, and plunge in the chasm beyond the Outer Sea, pursuing his way alone amid the grots and caverns at the roots of Arda. There he would often wander long, and late would return.

Still therefore, after the Long Night, the light of Valinor was greater and fairer than upon Middle-earth; for the Sun rested there, and the lights of heaven drew nearer to Earth in that region. But neither the Sun nor the Moon can recall the light that was of old, that came from the Trees before they were touched by the poison of Ungoliant That light lives now in the Silmarils alone.

But Morgoth hated the new lights, and was for a while confounded by this unlooked-for stroke of the Valar. Then he assailed Tilion, sending spirits of shadow against him, and there was strife in Ilmen beneath the paths of the stars; but Tilion was victorious. And Arien Morgoth feared with a great fear, but dared not come nigh her, having indeed no longer the power; for as he grew in malice, and sent forth from himself the evil that he conceived in lies and creatures of wickedness, his might passed into them and was dispersed, and he himself became ever more bound to the earth, unwilling to issue from his dark strongholds. With shadows he hid himself and his servants from Arien, the glance of whose eyes they could not long endure; and the lands near his dwelling were shrouded in fumes and great clouds.

But seeing the assault upon Tilion the Valar were in doubt, fearing what the malice and cunning of Morgoth might yet contrive against them. Being unwilling to make war upon him in Middle-earth, they remembered nonetheless the ruin of Almaren; and they resolved that the like should not befall Valinor. Therefore at that time they fortified their land anew, and they raised up the mountain-walls of the Pelóri to sheer and dreadful heights, east, north, and south. Their outer sides were dark and smooth, without foothold or ledge, and they fell in great precipices with faces hard as glass, and rose up to towers with crowns of white ice. A sleepless watch was set upon them, and no pass led through them, save only at the Calacirya: but that pass the Valar did not close, because of the Eldar that were faithful, and in the city of Tirion upon the green hill Finarfin yet ruled the remnant of the Noldor in the deep cleft of the mountains. For all those of elven-race, even the Vanyar and Ingwë their lord, must breathe at times the outer air and the wind that comes over the sea from the lands of their birth; and the Valar would not sunder the Teleri wholly from their kin. But in the Calacirya they set strong towers and many sentinels, and at its issue upon the plains of Valmar a host was encamped, so that neither bird nor beast nor elf nor man, nor any creature beside that dwelt in Middle-earth, could pass that leaguer.

And in that time also, which songs call Nurtalë Valinóreva, the Hiding of Valinor, the Enchanted Isles were set, and ail the seas about them were filled with shadows and bewilderment. And these isles were strung as a net in the Shadowy Seas from the north to the south, before Tol Eressëa, the Lonely Isle, is reached by one sailing west. Hardly might any vessel pass between them, for in the dangerous sounds the waves sighed for ever upon dark rocks shrouded in mist. And in the twilight a great weariness came upon mariners and a loathing of the sea; but all that ever set foot upon the islands were there entrapped, and slept until the Change of the World. Thus it was that as Mandos foretold to them in Araman the Blessed Realm was shut against the Noldor; and of the many messengers that in after days sailed into the West none came ever to Valinor - save one only: the mightiest mariner of song.


Chapter 12
Of Men

The Valar sat now behind their mountains at peace; and having given light to Middle-earth they left it for long untended, and the lordship of Morgoth was uncontested save by the valour of the Noldor. Most in mind Ulmo kept the exiles, who gathered news of the Earth through all the waters.

From this time forth were reckoned the Years of the Sun. Swifter and briefer are they than the long Years of the Trees in Valinor. In that time the air of Middle-earth became heavy with the breath of growth and mortality, and the changing and ageing of all things was hastened exceedingly; life teemed upon the soil and in the waters in the Second Spring of Arda, and the Eldar increased, and beneath the new Sun Beleriand grew green and fair.

At the first rising of the Sun the Younger Children of Ilúvatar awoke in the land of Hildórien in the eastward regions of Middle-earth; but the first Sun arose in the West, and the opening eyes of Men were turned towards it, and their feet as they wandered over the Earth for the most part strayed that way. The Atani they were named by the Eldar, the Second People; but they called them also Hildor, the Followers, and many other names: Apanónar, the After-born, Engwar, the Sickly, and Fírimar, the Mortals; and they named them the Usurpers, the Strangers, and the Inscrutable, the Self-cursed, the Heavy-handed, the Night-fearers, the Children of the Sun. Of Men little is told in these tales, which concern the Eldest Days before the waxing of mortals and the waning of the Elves, save of those fathers of men, the Atanatári, who in the first years of the Sun and Moon wandered into the North of the world. To Hildórien there came no Vala to guide Men, or to summon them to dwell in Valinor; and Men have feared the Valar, rather than loved them, and have not understood the purposes of the Powers, being at variance with them, and at strife with the world. Ulmo nonetheless took thought for them aiding the counsel and will of Manwë; and his messages came often to them by stream and flood. But they have not skill in such matters, and still less had they in those days before they had mingled with the Elves. Therefore they loved the waters, and their hearts were stirred, but they understood not the messages. Yet it is told that ere long they met Dark Elves in many places, and were befriended by them; and Men became the companions and disciples in their childhood of these ancient folk, wanderers of the Elven-race who never set out upon the paths to Valinor, and knew of the Valar only as a rumour and a distant name.

Morgoth had then not long come back into Middle-earth, and his power went not far abroad, and was moreover checked by the sudden coming of great light. There was little peril in the lands and hills; and there new things, devised long ages before in the thought of Yavanna and sown as seed in the dark, came at last to their budding and their bloom. West, North, and South the children of Men spread and wandered, and their joy was the joy of the morning before the dew is dry, when every leaf is green.

But the dawn is brief and the day full often belies its promise; and now the time drew on to the great wars of the powers of the North, when Noldor and Sindar and Men strove against the hosts of Morgoth Bauglir, and went down in ruin. To this end the cunning lies of Morgoth that he sowed of old, and sowed ever anew among his foes, and the curse that came of the slaying at Alqualondë, and the oath of Fëanor, were ever at work. Only a part is here told of the deeds of those days, and most is said of the Noldor, and the Silmarils, and the mortals that became entangled in their fate. In those days Elves and Men were of like stature and strength of body, but the Elves had greater wisdom, and skill, and beauty; and those who had dwelt in Valinor and looked upon the Powers as much surpassed the Dark Elves in these things as they in turn surpassed the people of mortal race. Only to the realm of Doriath, whose queen Melian was of the kindred of Valar, did the Sindar come near to match the Calaquendi of the Blessed Realm.

Immortal were the Elves, and their wisdom waxed from age to age, and no sickness nor pestilence brought death to them. Their bodies indeed were of the stuff of Earth, and could be destroyed; and in those days they were more like to the bodies of Men, since they had not so long been inhabited by the fire of their spirit, which consumes them from within in the courses of time. But Men were more frail, more easily slain by weapon or mischance, and less easily healed; subject to sickness and many ills; and they grew old and died. What may befall their spirits after death the Elves know not. Some say that they too go to the halls of Mandos; but their place of waiting there is not that of the Elves, and Mandos under Ilúvatar alone save Manwë knows whither they go after the time of recollection in those silent halls beside the Outer Sea. None have ever come back from the mansions of the dead, save only Beren son of Barahir, whose hand had touched a Silmaril; but he never spoke afterward to mortal Men. The fate of Men after death, maybe, is not in the hands of the Valar, nor was all foretold in the Music of the Ainur.

In after days, when because of the triumph of Morgoth Elves and Men became estranged, as be most wished, those of the Elven-race that lived still in Middle-earth waned and faded, and Men usurped the sunlight. Then the Quendi wandered in the lonely places of the great lands and the isles, and took to the moonlight and the starlight, and to the woods and caves, becoming as shadows and memories, save those who ever and anon set sail into the West and vanished from Middle-earth. But in the dawn of years Elves and Men were allies and held themselves akin, and there were some among Men that learned the wisdom of the Eldar, and became great and valiant among the captains of the Noldor. And in the glory and beauty of the Elves, and in their fate, full share had the offspring of elf and mortal, Eärendil, and Elwing, and Elrond their child.


Chapter 13
Of the Return of the Noldor

It has been told that Fëanor and his sons came first of the Exiles to Middle-earth, and landed in the waste of Lammoth, the Great Echo, upon the outer shores of the Firth of Drengist And even as the Noldor set foot upon the strand their cries were taken up into the hills and multiplied, so that a clamour as of countless mighty voices filled all the coasts of the North; and the noise of the burning of the ships at Losgar went down the winds of the sea as a tumult of great wrath, and far away all who heard that sound were filled with wonder.

Now the flames of that burning were seen not only by Fingolfin, whom Fëanor had deserted in Araman, but also by the Orcs and the watchers of Morgoth. No tale has told what Morgoth thought in his heart at the tidings that Fëanor, his bitterest foe, had brought a host out of the West. It may be that he feared him little, for he had as yet no proof of the swords of the Noldor; and soon it was seen that he purposed to drive them back into the sea.

Under the cold stars before the rising of the Moon the host of Fëanor went up the long Firth of Drengist that pierced the Echoing Hills of Ered Lómin, and passed thus from the shores into the great land of Hithlum; and they came at length to the long lake of Mithrim, and upon its northern shore made their encampment in the region that bore the same name. But the host of Morgoth, aroused by the tumult of Lam-moth and the light of the burning at Losgar, came through the passes of Ered Wethrin, the Mountains of Shadow, and assailed Fëanor on a sudden, before his camp was full-wrought or put in defence; and there on the grey fields of Mithrim was fought the Second Battle in the Wars of Beleriand. Dagor-nuin-Giliath it is named, the Battle-under-Stars, for the Moon had not yet risen; and it is renowned in song. The Noldor, outnumbered and taken at unawares, were yet swiftly victorious; for the light of Aman was not yet dimmed in their eyes, and they were strong and swift, and deadly in anger, and their swords were long and terrible. The Orcs fled before them, and they were driven forth from Mithrim with great slaughter, and hunted over the Mountains of Shadow into the great plain of Ard-galen, that lay northward of Dorthonion. There the armies of Morgoth that had passed south into the Vale of Sirion and beleaguered Círdan in the Havens of the Falas came up to their aid, and were caught in their ruin. For Celegorm, Fëanor's son, having news of them, waylaid them with a part of the Elven-host, and coming down upon them out of the hills near Eithel Sirion drove them into the Fen of Serech. Evil indeed were the tidings that came at last to Angband, and Morgoth was dismayed. Ten days that battle lasted, and from it returned of all the hosts that he had prepared for the conquest of Beleriand no more than a handful of leaves.

Yet cause he had for great joy, though it was hidden from him for a while. For Fëanor, in his wrath against the Enemy, would not halt, but pressed on behind the remnant of the Orcs, thinking so to come at Morgoth himself: and he laughed aloud as he wielded his sword, rejoicing that he had dared the wrath of the Valar and the evils of the road, that he might see the hour of his vengeance. Nothing did he know of Angband or the great strength of defence that Morgoth had so swiftly prepared: but even had he known it would not have deterred him, for he was fey, consumed by the flame of his own wrath. Thus it was that he drew far ahead of the van of his host; and seeing this the servants of Morgoth turned to bay, and there issued from Angband Balrogs to aid them. There upon the confines of Dor Daedeloth, the land of Morgoth, Fëanor was surrounded, with few friends about him. Long he fought on, and undismayed, though he was wrapped in fire and wounded with many wounds; but at the last he was smitten to the ground by Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, whom Ecthelion after slew in Gondolin. There he would have perished, had not his sons in that moment come up with force to his aid; and the Balrogs left him, and departed to Angband.

Then his sons raised up their father and bore him back towards Mithrim. But as they drew near to Eithel Sirion and were upon the upward path to the pass over the mountains, Fëanor bade them halt; for his wounds were mortal, and he knew that his hour was come. And looking out from the slopes of Ered Wethrin with his last sight he beheld far off the peaks of Thangorodrim, mightiest of the towers of Middle-earth, and knew with the foreknowledge of death that no power of the Noldor would ever overthrow them; but he cursed the name of Morgoth thrice, and laid it upon his sons to hold to their oath, and to avenge their father. Then he died; but he had neither burial nor tomb, for so fiery was his spirit that as it sped his body fell to ash, and was borne away like smoke; and his likeness has never again appeared in Arda, neither has his spirit left the halls of Mandos. Thus ended the mightiest of the Noldor, of whose deeds came both their greatest renown and their most grievous woe.

Now in Mithrim there dwelt Grey-elves, folk of Beleriand that had wandered north over the mountains, and the Noldor met them with gladness, as kinsfolk long sundered; but speech at first was not easy between them, for in their long severance the tongues of the Calaquendi in Valinor and of the Moriquendi in Beleriand had drawn far apart. From the Elves of Mithrim the Noldor learned of the power of Elu Thingol, King in Doriath, and the girdle of enchantment that fenced his realm; and tidings of these great deeds in the north came south to Menegroth, and to the havens of Brithombar and Eglarest. Then all the Elves of Beleriand were filled with wonder and with hope at the coming of their mighty kindred, who thus returned unlocked-for from the West in the very hour of their need, believing indeed at first that they came as emissaries of the Valar to deliver them.

But even in the hour of the death of Fëanor an embassy came to his sons from Morgoth, acknowledging defeat, and offering terms, even to the surrender of a Silmaril. Then Maedhros the tall, the eldest son, persuaded his brothers to feign to treat with Morgoth, and to meet his emissaries at the place appointed; but the Noldor had as little thought of faith as had he. Wherefore each embassy came with greater force than was agreed; but Morgoth sent the more, and there were Balrogs. Maedhros was ambushed, and all his company were slain; but he himself was taken alive by the command of Morgoth, and brought to Angband.

Then the brothers of Maedhros drew back, and fortified a great camp in Hithlum; but Morgoth held Maedhros as hostage, and sent word that he would not release him unless the Noldor would forsake their war, returning into the West, or else departing far from Beleriand into the South of the world. But the sons of Fëanor knew that Morgoth would betray them, and would not release Maedhros, whatsoever they might do; and they were constrained also by their oath, and might not for any cause forsake the war against their Enemy. Therefore Morgoth took Maedhros and hung him from the face of a precipice upon Thangorodrim, and he was caught to the rock by the wrist of his right hand in a band of steel.

Now rumour came to the camp in Hithlum of the march of Fingolfin and those that followed him, who had crossed the Grinding Ice; and all the world lay then in wonder at the coming of the Moon. But as the host of Fingolfin marched into Mithrim the Sun rose flaming in the West; and Fingolfin unfurled his blue and silver banners, and blew his horns, and flowers sprang beneath his marching feet, and the ages of the stars were ended. At the uprising of the great light the servants of Morgoth fled into Angband, and Fingolfin passed unopposed through the fastness of Dor Daedeloth while his foes hid beneath the earth. Then the Elves smote upon the gates of Angband, and the challenge of their trumpets shook the towers of Thangorodrim; and Maedhros heard them amid his torment and cried aloud, but his voice was lost in the echoes of the stone.

But Fingolfin, being of other temper than Fëanor, and wary of the wiles of Morgoth, withdrew from Dor Daedeloth and turned back towards Mithrim, for he had heard tidings that there he should find the sons of Fëanor, and he desired also to have the shield of the Mountains of Shadow while his people rested and grew strong; for he had seen the strength of Angband, and thought not that it would fall to the sound of trumpets only. Therefore coming at length to Hithlum he made his first camp and dwelling by the northern shores of Lake Mithrim. No love was there in the hearts of those that followed Fingolfin for the House of Fëanor, for the agony of those that endured the crossing of the Ice had been great, and Fingolfin held the sons the accomplices of their father. Then there was peril of strife between the hosts; but grievous as were their losses upon the road, the people of Fingolfin and of Finrod son of Finarfin were still more numerous than the followers of Fëanor, and these now withdrew before them, and removed their dwelling to the southern shore; and the lake lay between them. Many of Fëanor's people indeed repented of the burning at Losgar, and were filled with amazement at the valour that had brought the friends whom they had abandoned over the Ice of the North; and they would have welcomed them, but they dared not, for shame.

Thus because of the curse that lay upon them the Noldor achieved nothing, while Morgoth hesitated, and the dread of light was new and strong upon the Orcs. But Morgoth arose from thought, and seeing the division of his foes he laughed. In the pits of Angband he caused vast smokes and vapours to be made, and they came forth from the reeking tops of the Iron Mountains, and afar off they could be seen in Mithrim, staining the bright airs in the first mornings of the world. A wind came out of the east, and bore them over Hithlum, darkening the new Sun; and they fell, and coiled about the fields and hollows, and lay upon the waters of Mithrim, drear and poisonous.

Then Fingon the valiant, son of Fingolfin, resolved to heal the feud that divided the Noldor, before their Enemy should be ready for war; for the earth trembled in the Northlands with the thunder of the forges of Morgoth underground. Long before, in the bliss of Valinor, before Melkor was unchained, or lies came between them, Fingon had been close in friendship with Maedhros; and though he knew not yet that Maedhros had not forgotten him at the burning of the ships, the thought of their ancient friendship stung his heart. Therefore he dared a deed which is Justly renowned among the feats of the princes of the Noldor: alone, and without the counsel of any, he set forth in search of Maedhros; and aided by the very darkness that Morgoth had made he came unseen into the fastness of his foes. High upon the shoulders of Thangorodrim he climbed, and looked in despair upon the desolation of the land; but no passage or crevice could he find through which he might come within Morgoth's stronghold. Then in defiance of the Orcs, who cowered still in the dark vaults beneath the earth, he took his harp and sang a song of Valinor that the Noldor made of old, before strife was born among the sons of Finwë; and his voice rang in the mournful hollows that had never heard before aught save cries of fear and woe.

Thus Fingon found what he sought. For suddenly above him far and faint his song was taken up, and a voice answering called to him. Maedhros it was that sang amid his torment. But Fingon climbed to the foot of the precipice where his kinsman hung, and then could go no further; and he wept when he saw the cruel device of Morgoth. Maedhros therefore, being in anguish without hope, begged Fingon to shoot him with his bow; and Fingon strung an arrow, and bent his bow. And seeing no better hope he cried to Manwë, saying: 'O King to whom all birds are dear, speed now this feathered shaft, and recall some pity for the Noldor in their need!'

His prayer was answered swiftly. For Manwë to whom all birds are dear, and to whom they bring news upon Taniquetil from Middle-earth, had sent forth the race of Eagles, commanding them to dwell in the crags of the North, and to keep watch upon Morgoth; for Manwë still had pity for the exiled Elves. And the Eagles brought news of much that passed in those days to the sad ears of Manwë. Now, even as Fingon bent his bow, there flew down from the high airs Thorondor, King of Eagles, mightiest of all birds that have ever been, whose outstretched wings spanned thirty fathoms; and staying Fingon's hand he took him up, and bore him to the face of the rock where Maedhros hung. But Fingon could not release the hell-wrought bond upon his wrist, nor sever it, nor draw it from the stone. Again therefore in his pain Maedhros begged that he would slay him; but Fingon cut off his hand above the wrist, and Thorondor bore them back to Mithrim.

There Maedhros in time was healed; for the fire of life was hot within him, and his strength was of the ancient world, such as those possessed who were nurtured in Valinor. His body recovered from his torment and became hale, but the shadow of his pain was in his heart; and he lived to wield his sword with left hand more deadly than his right had been. By this deed Fingon won great renown, and all the Noldor praised him; and the hatred between the houses of Fingolfin and Fëanor was assuaged. For Maedhros begged forgiveness for the desertion in Araman; and he waived his claim to kingship over all the Noldor, saying to Fingolfin: 'If there lay no grievance between us, lord, still the kingship would rightly come to you, the eldest here of the house of Finwë, and not the least wise.' But to this his brothers did not all in their hearts agree.

Therefore even as Mandos foretold the House of Fëanor were called the Dispossessed, because the over-lordship passed from it, the elder, to the house of Fingolfin, both in Elendë and in Beleriand, and because also of the loss of the Silmarils. But the Noldor being again united set a watch upon the borders of Dor Daedeloth, and Angband was beleaguered from west, and south, and east; and they sent forth messengers far and wide to explore the countries of Beleriand, and to treat with the people that dwelt there.

Now King Thingol welcomed not with a full heart the coming of so many princes in might out of the West, eager for new realms; and he would not open his kingdom, nor remove its girdle of enchantment, for wise with the wisdom of Melian he trusted not that the restraint of Morgoth would endure. Alone of the princes of the Noldor those of Finarfin's house were suffered to pass within the confines of Doriath; for they could claim close kinship with King Thingol himself, since their mother was Eärwen of Alqualondë, Olwë's daughter.

Angrod son of Finarfin was the first of the Exiles to come to Menegroth, as messenger of his brother Finrod, and he spoke long with the King, telling him of the deeds of the Noldor in the north, and of their numbers, and of the ordering of their force; but being true, and wisehearted, and thinking all griefs now forgiven, he spoke no word concerning the kinslaying, nor of the manner of the exile of the Noldor and the oath of Fëanor. King Thingol hearkened to the words of Angrod; and ere he went he said to him: 'Thus shall you speak for me to those that sent you. In Hithlum the Noldor have leave to dwell, and in the highlands of Dorthonion, and in the lands east of Doriath that are empty and wild; but elsewhere there are many of my people, and I would not have them restrained of their freedom, still less ousted from their homes. Beware therefore how you princes of the West bear yourselves; for I am the Lord of Beleriand, and all who seek to dwell there shall hear my word. Into Doriath none shall come to abide but only such as I call as guests, or who seek me in great need.'

Now the lords of the Noldor held council in Mithrim, and thither came Angrod out of Doriath, bearing the message of King Thingol. Cold seemed its welcome to the Noldor, and the sons of Fëanor were angered at the words; but Maedhros laughed, saying: 'A king is he that can hold his own, or else his title is vain. Thingol does but grant us lands where his power does not run. Indeed Doriath alone would be his realm this day, but for the coming of the Noldor. Therefore in Doriath let him reign, and be glad that he has the sons of Finwë for his neighbours, not the Orcs of Morgoth that we found. Elsewhere it shall go as seems good to us."

But Caranthir, who loved not the sons of Finarfin, and was the harshest of the brothers and the most quick to anger, cried aloud: 'Yea more! Let not the sons of Finarfin run hither and thither with their tales to this Dark Elf in his caves! Who made them our spokesmen to deal with him? And though they be come indeed to Beleriand, let them not so swiftly forget that their father is a lord of the Noldor, though their mother be of other kin.'

Then Angrod was wrathful and went forth from the council. Maedhros indeed rebuked Caranthir; but the greater part of the Noldor, of both followings, hearing his words were troubled in heart, fearing the fell spirit of the sons of Fëanor that it seemed would ever be like to burst forth in rash word or violence. But Maedhros restrained his brothers, and they departed from the council, and soon afterwards they left Mithrim and went eastward beyond Aros to the wide lands about the Hill of Himring. That region was named thereafter the March of Maedhros; for northwards there was little defence of hill or river against assault from Angband. There Maedhros and his brothers kept watch, gathering all such people as would come to them, and they had few dealings with their kinsfolk westward, save at need. It is said indeed that Maedhros himself devised this plan, to lessen the chances of strife, and because he was very willing that the chief peril of assault should fall upon himself; and he remained for his part in friendship with the houses of Fingolfin and Finarfin, and would come among them at times for common counsel. Yet he also was bound by the oath, though it slept now for a time.

Now the people of Caranthir dwelt furthest east beyond the upper waters of Gelion, about Lake Helevorn under Mount Rerir and to the southward; and they climbed the heights of Ered Luin and looked eastward in wonder, for wild and wide it seemed to them were the lands of Middle-earth. And thus it was that Caranthir's people came upon the Dwarves, who after the onslaught of Morgoth and the coming of the Noldor had ceased their traffic into Beleriand. But though either people loved skill and were eager to learn, no great love was there between them; for the Dwarves were secret and quick to resentment, and Caranthir was haughty and scarce concealed his scorn for the unloveliness of the Naugrim, and his people followed their lord. Nevertheless since both peoples feared and hated Morgoth they made alliance, and had of it great profit; for the Naugrim learned many secrets of craft in those days, so that the smiths and masons of Nogrod and Belegost became renowned among their kin, and when the Dwarves began again to journey into Beleriand all the traffic of the dwarf-mines passed first through the hands of Caranthir, and thus great riches came to him.

When twenty years of the Sun had passed, Fingolfin King of the Noldor made a great feast; and it was held in the spring near to the pools of Ivrin, whence the swift river Narog rose, for there the lands were green and fair at the feet of the Mountains of Shadow that shielded them from the north. The joy of that feast was long remembered in later days of sorrow; and it was called Mereth Aderthad, the Feast of Reuniting. Thither came many of the chieftains and people of Fingolfin and Finrod; and of the sons of Fëanor Maedhros and Maglor, with warriors of the eastern March; and there came also great numbers of the Grey-elves, wanderers of the woods of Beleriand and folk of the Havens, with Círdan their lord. There came even Green-elves from Ossiriand, the Land of Seven Rivers, far off under the walls of the Blue Mountains; but out of Doriath there came but two messengers, Mablung and Daeron, bearing greetings from the King.

At Mereth Aderthad many counsels were taken in good will, and oaths were sworn of league and friendship; and it is told that at this feast the tongue of the Grey-elves was most spoken even by the Noldor, for they learned swiftly the speech of Beleriand, whereas the Sindar were slow to master the tongue of Valinor. The hearts of the Noldor were high and full of hope, and to many among them it seemed that the words of Fëanor had been justified, bidding them seek freedom and fair kingdoms in Middle-earth; and indeed there followed after long years of peace, while their swords fenced Beleriand from the ruin of Morgoth, and his power was shut behind his gates. In those days there was joy beneath the new Sun and Moon, and all the land was glad; but still the Shadow brooded in the north.

And when again thirty years had passed, Turgon son of Fingolfin left Nevrast where he dwelt and sought out Finrod his friend upon the island of Tol Sirion, and they journeyed southward along the river, being weary for a while of the northern mountains; and as they journeyed night came upon them beyond the Meres of Twilight beside the waters of Sirion, and they slept upon his banks beneath the summer stars. But Ulmo coming up the river laid a deep sleep upon them and heavy dreams; and the trouble of the dreams remained after they awoke, but neither said aught to the other, for their memory was not clear, and each believed that Ulmo had sent a message to him alone. But unquiet was upon them ever after, and doubt of what should befall, and they wandered often alone in untrodden lands, seeking far and wide for places of hidden strength; for it seemed to each that he was bidden to prepare for a day of evil, and to establish a retreat, lest Morgoth should burst from Angband and overthrow the armies of the North.

Now on a time Finrod and Galadriel his sister were the guests of Thingol their kinsman in Doriath. Then Finrod was filled with wonder at the strength and majesty of Menegroth, its treasuries and armouries and its many-pillared halls of stone; and it came into his heart that he would build wide halls behind ever-guarded gates in some deep and secret place beneath the hills. Therefore he opened his heart to Thingol, telling him of his dreams; and Thingol spoke to him of the deep gorge of the River Narog, and the caves under the High Faroth in its steep western shore, and when he departed he gave him guides to lead him to that place of which few yet knew. Thus Finrod came to the Caverns of Narog, and began to establish there deep halls and armouries after the fashion of the mansions of Menegroth; and that stronghold was called Nargothrond. In that labour Finrod was aided by the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains; and they were rewarded well, for Finrod had brought more treasures out of Tirion than any other of the princes of the Noldor. And in that time was made for him the Nauglamír, the Necklace of the Dwarves, most renowned of their works in the Elder Days. It was a carcanet of gold, and set therein were gems uncounted from Valinor; but it had a power within it so that it rested lightly on its wearer as a strand of flax, and whatsoever neck it clasped it sat always with grace and loveliness.

There in Nargothrond Finrod made his home with many of his people, and he was named in the tongue of the Dwarves Felagund, Hewer of Caves; and that name he bore thereafter until his end. But Finrod Felagund was not the first to dwell in the caves beside the River Narog.

Galadriel his sister went not with him to Nargothrond, for in Doriath dwelt Celeborn, kinsman of Thingol, and there was great love between them. Therefore she remained in the Hidden Kingdom, and abode with Melian, and of her learned great lore and wisdom concerning Middle-earth.

But Turgon remembered the city set upon a hill, Tirion the fair with its tower and tree, and he found not what he sought, but returned to Nevrast, and sat in peace in Vinyamar by the shores of the sea. And in the next year Ulmo himself appeared to him, and bade him go forth again alone into the Vale of Sirion; and Turgon went forth, and by the guidance of Ulmo he discovered the hidden vale of Tumladen in the Encircling Mountains, in the midst of which there was a hill of stone. Of this he spoke to none as yet, but returned once more to Nevrast, and there began in his secret counsels to devise the plan of a city after the manner of Tirion upon Túna, for which his heart yearned in exile.

Now Morgoth, believing the report of his spies that the lords of the Noldor were wandering abroad with little thought of war, made trial of the strength and watchfulness of

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Home < Literature twentieth century: Modernism <
Jerome David Salinger
The Catcher in the Rye
(1951)

JD Salinger. The Catcher in the Rye, 1951.

Source: http://artefact.lib.ru .

Contents:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9 10
11,
12,
13,
14,
15th
16th
17th
18th 19th
20th
21,
22,
23,
To 24
25,
26,

TO MY MOTHER

1

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, an what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. In the first place, that stuff bores me, and in the second place, my parents would have about two hemorrhages apiece if I told anything pretty personal about them. They're quite touchy about anything like that, especially my father. They're nice and all-I'm not saying that-but they're also touchy as hell. Besides, I'm not going to tell you my whole goddam autobiography or anything. I'll just tell you about this madman stuff that happened to me around last Christmas just before I got pretty run-down and had to come out here and take it easy. I mean that's all I told DB about, and he's my brother and all. He's in Hollywood. That isn't too far from this crumby place, and he comes over and visits me practically every week end. He's going to drive me home when I go home next month maybe. He just got a Jaguar. One of those little English jobs that can do around two hundred miles an hour. It cost him damn near four thousand bucks. He's got a lot of dough, now. He didn't use to. He used to be just a regular writer, when he was home. He wrote this terrific book of short stories, The Secret Goldfish, in case you never heard of him. The best one in it was "The Secret Goldfish." It was about this little kid that wouldn't let anybody look at his goldfish because he'd bought it with his own money. It killed me. Now he's out in Hollywood, DB, being a prostitute. If there's one thing I hate, it's the movies. Don't even mention them to me.

Where I want to start telling is the day I left Pencey Prep. Pencey Prep is this school that's in Agerstown, Pennsylvania. You probably heard of it. You've probably seen the ads, anyway. They advertise in about a thousand magazines, always showing some hotshot guy on a horse jumping over a fence. Like as if all you ever did at Pencey was play polo all the time. I never even once saw a horse anywhere near the place. And underneath the guy on the horse's picture, it always says: "Since 1888 we have been molding boys into splendid, clear-thinking young men." Strictly for the birds. They don't do any damn more molding at Pencey than they do at any other school. And I didn't know anybody there that was splendid and clear-thinking and all. Maybe two guys. If that many. And they probably came to Pencey that way.

Anyway, it was the Saturday of the football game with Saxon Hall. The game with Saxon Hall was supposed to be a very big deal around Pencey. It was the last game of the year, and you were supposed to commit suicide or something if old Pencey didn't win. I remember around three o'clock that afternoon I was standing way the hell up on top of Thomsen Hill, right next to this crazy cannon that was in the Revolutionary War and all. You could see the whole field from there, and you could see the two teams bashing each other all over the place. You couldn't see the grandstand too hot, but you could hear them all yelling, deep and terrific on the Pencey side, because practically the whole school except me was there, and scrawny and faggy on the Saxon Hall side, because the visiting team hardly ever brought many people with them.

There were never many girls at all at the football games. Only seniors were allowed to bring girls with them. It was a terrible school, no matter how you looked at it. I like to be somewhere at least where you can see a few girls around once in a while, even if they're only scratching their arms or blowing their noses or even just giggling or something.

Old Selma Thurmer-she was the headmaster's daughter-showed up at the games quite often, but she wasn't exactly the type that drove you mad with desire. She was a pretty nice girl, though. I sat next to her once in the bus from Agerstown and we sort of struck up a conversation. I liked her. She had a big nose and her nails were all bitten down and bleedy-looking and she had on those damn falsies that point all over the place, but you felt sort of sorry for her. What I liked about her, she didn't give you a lot of horse manure about what a great guy her father was. She probably knew what a phony slob he was.

The reason I was standing way up on Thomsen Hill, instead of down at the game, was because I'd just got back from New York with the fencing team. I was the goddam manager of the fencing team. Very big deal. We'd gone in to New York that morning for this fencing meet with McBurney School. Only, we didn't have the meet. I left all the foils and equipment and stuff on the goddam subway. It wasn't all my fault. I had to keep getting up to look at this map, so we'd know where to get off. So we got back to Pencey around two-thirty instead of around dinnertime. The whole team ostracized me the whole way back on the train. It was pretty funny, in a way.

The other reason I wasn't down at the game was because I was on my way to say good-by to old Spencer, my history teacher. He had the grippe, and I figured I probably wouldn't see him again till Christmas vacation started. He wrote me this note saying he wanted to see me before I went home. He knew I wasn't coming back to Pencey.

I forgot to tell you about that. They kicked me out. I wasn't supposed to come back after Christmas vacation on account of I was flunking four subjects and not applying myself and all. They gave me frequent warning to start applying myself-especially around midterms, when my parents came up for a conference with old Thurmer-but I didn't do it. So I got the ax. They give guys the ax quite frequently at Pencey. It has a very good academic rating, Pencey. It really does.

Anyway, it was December and all, and it was cold as a witch's teat, especially on top of that stupid hill. I only had on my reversible and no gloves or anything. The week before that, somebody'd stolen my camel's-hair coat right out of my room, with my fur-lined gloves right in the pocket and all. Pencey was full of crooks. Quite a few guys came from these very wealthy families, but it was full of crooks anyway. The more expensive a school is, the more crooks it has-I'm not kidding. Anyway, I kept standing next to that crazy cannon, looking down at the game and freezing my ass off. Only, I wasn't watching the game too much. What I was really hanging around for, I was trying to feel some kind of a good-by. I mean I've left schools and places I didn't even know I was leaving them. I hate that. I don't care if it's a sad good-by or a bad goodby, but when I leave a place I like to know I'm leaving it. If you don't, you feel even worse.

I was lucky. All of a sudden I thought of something that helped make me know I was getting the hell out. I suddenly remembered this time, in around October, that I and Robert Tichener and Paul Campbell were chucking a football around, in front of the academic building. They were nice guys, especially Tichener. It was just before dinner and it was getting pretty dark out, but we kept chucking the ball around anyway. It kept getting darker and darker, and we could hardly see the ball any more, but we didn't want to stop doing what we were doing. Finally we had to. This teacher that taught biology, Mr. Zambesi, stuck his head out of this window in the academic building and told us to go back to the dorm and get ready for dinner. If I get a chance to remember that kind of stuff, I can get a good-by when I need one-at least, most of the time I can. As soon as I got it, I turned around and started running down the other side of the hill, toward old Spencer's house. He didn't live on the campus. He lived on Anthony Wayne Avenue.

I ran all the way to the main gate, and then I waited a second till I got my breath. I have no wind, if you want to know the truth. I'm quite a heavy smoker, for one thing-that is, I used to be. They made me cut it out. Another thing, I grew six and a half inches last year. That's also how I practically got tb and came out here for all these goddam checkups and stuff. I'm pretty healthy, though.

Anyway, as soon as I got my breath back I ran across Route 204. It was icy as hell and I damn near fell down. I don't even know what I was running for-I guess I just felt like it. After I got across the road, I felt like I was sort of disappearing. It was that kind of a crazy afternoon, terrifically cold, and no sun out or anything, and you felt like you were disappearing every time you crossed a road.

Boy, I rang that doorbell fast when I got to old Spencer's house. I was really frozen. My ears were hurting and I could hardly move my fingers at all. "C'mon, c'mon," I said right out loud, almost, "somebody open the door."

Finally old Mrs. Spencer opened. it. They didn't have a maid or anything, and they always opened the door themselves. They didn't have too much dough.

"Holden!" Mrs. Spencer said. "How lovely to see you! Come in, dear! Are you frozen to death? "

I think she was glad to see me. She liked me. At least, I think she did.

Boy, did I get in that house fast.

"How are you, Mrs. Spencer? "I said. "How's Mr. Spencer? "

"Let me take your coat, dear," she said. She didn't hear me ask her how Mr. Spencer was. She was sort of deaf.

She hung up my coat in the hall closet, and I sort of brushed my hair back with my hand. I wear a crew cut quite frequently and I never have to comb it much.

"How've you been, Mrs. Spencer? "I said again, only louder, so she'd hear me.

"I've been just fine, Holden." She closed the closet door. "How have you been?"

The way she asked me, I knew right away old Spencer'd told her I'd been kicked out.

"Fine," I said. "How's Mr. Spencer? He over his grippe yet? "

"Over it! Holden, he's behaving like a perfect-I don't know what ... He's in his room, dear. Go right in. "

2

They each had their own room and all. They were both around seventy years old, or even more than that. They got a bang out of things, though-in a half-assed way, of course. I know that sounds mean to say, but I don't mean it mean. I just mean that I used to think about old Spencer quite a lot, and if you thought about him too much, you wondered what the heck he was still living for. I mean he was all stooped over, and he had very terrible posture, and in class, whenever he dropped a piece of chalk at the blackboard, some guy in the first row always had to get up and pick it up and hand it to him . That's awful, in my opinion. But if you thought about him just enough and not too much, you could figure it out that he wasn't doing too bad for himself. For instance, one Sunday when some other guys and I were over there for hot chocolate, he showed us this old beat-up Navajo blanket that he and Mrs. Spencer'd bought off some Indian in Yellowstone Park. You could tell old Spencer'd got a big bang out of buying it. That's what I mean. You take somebody old as hell, like old Spencer, and they can get a big bang out of buying a blanket.

His door was open, but I sort of knocked on it anyway, just to be polite and all. I could see where he was sitting. He was sitting in a big leather chair, all wrapped up in that blanket I just told you about. He looked over at me when I knocked.

"Who's that?" He yelled. "Caulfield? Come in, boy. "

He was always yelling, outside class. It got on your nerves sometimes.

The minute I went in, I was sort of sorry. I'd come. He was reading the Atlantic Monthly, and there were pills and medicine all over the place, and everything smelled like Vicks Nose Drops. It was pretty depressing. I'm not too crazy about sick people, anyway. What made it even more depressing, old Spencer had on this very sad, ratty old bathrobe that he was probably born in or something. I don't much like to see old guys in their pajamas and bathrobes anyway. Their bumpy old chests are always showing. And their legs. Old guys' legs, at beaches and places, always look so white and unhairy.

"Hello, sir," I said. "I got your note. Thanks a lot. "

He'd written me this note asking me to stop by and say good-by before vacation started, on account of I wasn't coming back.

"You didn't have to do all that. I'd have come over to say good-by anyway. "

"Have a seat there, boy," old Spencer said. He meant the bed.

I sat down on it.

"How's your grippe, sir?"

"M'boy, if I felt any better I'd have to send for the doctor," old Spencer said. That knocked him out. He started chuckling like a madman. Then he finally straightened himself out and said, "Why aren't you down at the game? I thought this was the day of the big game. "

"It is. I was. Only, I just got back from New York with the fencing team, "I said.

Boy, his bed was like a rock.

He started getting serious as hell. I knew he would.

"So you're leaving us, eh?" He said.

"Yes, sir. I guess I am. "

He started going into this nodding routine. You never saw anybody nod as much in your life as old Spencer did. You never knew if he was nodding a lot because he was thinking and all, or just because he was a nice old guy that didn't know his ass from his elbow.

"What did Dr. Thurmer say to you, boy? I understand you had quite a little chat. "

"Yes, we did. We really did. I was in his office for around two hours, I guess. "

"What'd he say to you?"

"Oh ... well, about Life being a game and all. And how you should play it according to the rules. He was pretty nice about it. I mean he didn't hit the ceiling or anything. He just kept talking about Life being a game and all. You know. "

"Life is a game, boy. Life is a game that one plays according to the rules. "

"Yes, sir. I know it is. I know it. "

Game, my ass. Some game. If you get on the side where all the hot-shots are, then it's a game, all right-I'll admit that. But if you get on the other side, where there aren't any hot-shots, then what's a game about it? Nothing. No game.

"Has Dr. Thurmer written to your parents yet? "Old Spencer asked me.

"He said he was going to write them Monday."

"Have you yourself communicated with them?"

"No, sir, I haven't communicated with them, because I'll probably see them Wednesday night when I get home."

"And how do you think they'll take the news?"

"Well ... they'll be pretty irritated about it, "I said. "They really will. This is about the fourth school I've gone to. "I shook my head. I shake my head quite a lot. "Boy!" I said. I also say "Boy!" Quite a lot. Partly because I have a lousy vocabulary and partly because I act quite young for my age sometimes. I was sixteen then, and I'm seventeen now, and sometimes I act like I'm about thirteen. It's really ironical, because I'm six foot two and a half and I have gray hair. I really do. The one side of my head-the right side-is full of millions of gray hairs. I've had them ever since I was a kid. And yet I still act sometimes like I was only about twelve. Everybody says that, especially my father. It's partly true, too, but it isn't all true. People always think something's all true. I don't give a damn, except that I get bored sometimes when people tell me to act my age. Sometimes I act a lot older than I am-I really do-but people never notice it. People never notice anything.

Old Spencer started nodding again. He also started picking his nose. He made out like he was only pinching it, but he was really getting the old thumb right in there. I guess he thought it was all right to do because it was only me that was in the room. I didn't care, except that it's pretty disgusting to watch somebody pick their nose.

Then he said, "I had the privilege of meeting your mother and dad when they had their little chat with Dr. Thurmer some weeks ago. They're grand people. "

"Yes, they are. They're very nice. "

Grand. There's a word I really hate. It's a phony. I could puke every time I hear it.

Then all of a sudden old Spencer looked like he had something very good, something sharp as a tack, to say to me. He sat up more in his chair and sort of moved around. It was a false alarm, though. All he did was lift the Atlantic Monthly off his lap and try to chuck it on the bed, next to me. He missed. It was only about two inches away, but he missed anyway. I got up and picked it up and put it down on the bed. All of a sudden then, I wanted to get the hell out of the room. I could feel a terrific lecture coming on. I didn't mind the idea so much, but I didn't feel like being lectured to and smell Vicks Nose Drops and look at old Spencer in his pajamas and bathrobe all at the same time. I really didn't.

It started, all right.

"What's the matter with you, boy?" Old Spencer said. He said it pretty tough, too, for him. "How many subjects did you carry this term?"

"Five, sir."

"Five. And how many are you failing in? "

"Four." I moved my ass a little bit on the bed. It was the hardest bed I ever sat on. "I passed English all right," I said, "because I had all that Beowulf and Lord Randal My Son stuff when I was at the Whooton School. I mean I didn't have to do any work in English at all hardly, except write compositions once in a while. "

He wasn't even listening. He hardly ever listened to you when you said something.

"I flunked you in history because you knew absolutely nothing."

"I know that, sir. Boy, I know it. You couldn't help it. "

"Absolutely nothing," he said over again.

That's something that drives me crazy. When people say something twice that way, after you admit it the first time.

Then he said it three times.

"But absolutely nothing. I doubt very much if you opened your textbook even once the whole term. Did you? Tell the truth, boy. "

"Well, I sort of glanced through it a couple of times," I told him. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. He was mad about history.

"You glanced through it, eh?" He said-very sarcastic. "Your, ah, exam paper is over there on top of my chiffonier. On top of the pile. Bring it here, please. "

It was a very dirty trick, but I went over and brought it over to him-I didn't have any alternative or anything. Then I sat down on his cement bed again. Boy, you can't imagine how sorry I was getting that I'd stopped by to say good-by to him.

He started handling my exam paper like it was a turd or something.

"We studied the Egyptians from November 4th to December 2nd," he said. "You chose to write about them for the optional essay question. Would you care to hear what you had to say? "

"No, sir, not very much," I said.

He read it anyway, though. You can't stop a teacher when they want to do something. They just do it.

The Egyptians were an ancient race of Caucasians residing in one of the northern sections of Africa. The latter as we all know is the largest continent in the Eastern Hemisphere.

I had to sit there and listen to that crap. It certainly was a dirty trick.

The Egyptians are extremely interesting to us today for various reasons. Modern science would still like to know what the secret ingredients were that the Egyptians used when they wrapped up dead people so that their faces would not rot for innumerable centuries. This interesting riddle is still quite a challenge to modern science in the twentieth century.

He stopped reading and put my paper down. I was beginning to sort of hate him.

"Your essay, shall we say, ends there," he said in this very sarcastic voice. You wouldn't think such an old guy would be so sarcastic and all. "However, you dropped me a little note, at the bottom of the page," he said.

"I know I did," I said. I said it very fast because I wanted to stop him before he started reading that out loud. But you couldn't stop him. He was hot as a firecracker.

DEAR MR. SPENCER [he read out loud]. That is all I know about the Egyptians. I can't seem to get very interested in them although your lectures are very interesting. It is all right with me if you flunk me though as I am flunking everything else except English anyway. Respectfully yours, HOLDEN CAULFIELD.

He put my goddam paper down then and looked at me like he'd just beaten hell out of me in ping-pong or something. I don't think I'll ever forgive him for reading me that crap out loud. I wouldn't've read it out loud to him if he 'd written it-I really wouldn't. In the first place, I'd only written that damn note so that he wouldn't feel too bad about flunking me.

"Do you blame me for flunking you, boy?" He said.

"No, sir! I certainly don't, "I said. I wished to hell he'd stop calling me "boy" all the time.

He tried chucking my exam paper on the bed when he was through with it. Only, he missed again, naturally. I had to get up again and pick it up and put it on top of the Atlantic Monthly. It's boring to do that every two minutes.

"What would you have done in my place?" He said. "Tell the truth, boy."

Well, you could see he really felt pretty lousy about flunking me. So I shot the bull for a while. I told him I was a real moron, and all that stuff. I told him how I would've done exactly the same thing if I'd been in his place, and how most people didn't appreciate how tough it is being a teacher. That kind of stuff. The old bull.

The funny thing is, though, I was sort of thinking of something else while I shot the bull. I live in New York, and I was thinking about the lagoon in Central Park, down near Central Park South. I was wondering if it would be frozen over when I got home, and if it was, where did the ducks go. I was wondering where the ducks went when the lagoon got all icy and frozen over. I wondered if some guy came in a truck and took them away to a zoo or something. Or if they just flew away.

I'm lucky, though. I mean I could shoot the old bull to old Spencer and think about those ducks at the same time. It's funny. You don't have to think too hard when you talk to a teacher. All of a sudden, though, he interrupted me while I was shooting the bull. He was always interrupting you.

"How do you feel about all this, boy? I'd be very interested to know. Very interested. "

"You mean about my flunking out of Pencey and all?" I said. I sort of wished he'd cover up his bumpy chest. It wasn't such a beautiful view.

"If I'm not mistaken, I believe you also had some difficulty at the Whooton School and at Elkton Hills."

He didn't say it just sarcastic, but sort of nasty, too.

"I didn't have too much difficulty at Elkton Hills," I told him. "I didn't exactly flunk out or anything. I just quit, sort of. "

"Why, may I ask?"

"Why? Oh, well it's a long story, sir. I mean it's pretty complicated. "

I didn't feel like going into the whole thing with him. He wouldn't have understood it anyway. It wasn't up his alley at all. One of the biggest reasons I left Elkton Hills was because I was surrounded by phonies. That's all. They were coming in the goddam window. For instance, they had this headmaster, Mr. Haas, that was the phoniest bastard I ever met in my life. Ten times worse than old Thurmer. On Sundays, for instance, old Haas went around shaking hands with everybody's parents when they drove up to school. He'd be charming as hell and all. Except if some boy had little old funny-looking parents. You should've seen the way he did with my roommate's parents. I mean if a boy's mother was sort of fat or corny-looking or something, and if somebody's father was one of those guys that wear those suits with very big shoulders and corny black-and-white shoes, then old Hans would just shake hands with them and give them a phony smile and then he'd go talk, for maybe a half an hour, with somebody else's parents. I can't stand that stuff. It drives me crazy. It makes me so depressed I go crazy. I hated that goddam Elkton Hills.

Old Spencer asked me something then, but I didn't hear him. I was thinking about old Haas.

"What, sir?" I said.

"Do you have any particular qualms about leaving Pencey?"

"Oh, I have a few qualms, all right. Sure ... but not too many. Not yet, anyway. I guess it hasn't really hit me yet. It takes things a while to hit me. All I'm doing right now is thinking about going home Wednesday. I'm a moron. "

"Do you feel absolutely no concern for your future, boy?"

"Oh, I feel some concern for my future, all right. Sure. Sure, I do. "I thought about it for a minute. "But not too much, I guess. Not too much, I guess. "

"You will," old Spencer said. "You will, boy. You will when it's too late. "

I didn't like hearing him say that. It made me sound dead or something. It was very depressing.

"I guess I will," I said.

"I'd like to put some sense in that head of yours, boy. I'm trying to help you. I'm trying to help you, if I can. "

He really was, too. You could see that. But it was just that we were too much on opposite sides of the pole, that's all.

"I know you are, sir," I said. "Thanks a lot. No kidding. I appreciate it. I really do. "I got up from the bed then. Boy, I couldn't've sat there another ten minutes to save my life. "The thing is, though, I have to get going now. I have quite a bit of equipment at the gym I have to get to take home with me. I really do. "

He looked up at me and started nodding again, with this very serious look on his face. I felt sorry as hell for him, all of a sudden. But I just couldn't hang around there any longer, the way we were on opposite sides of the pole, and the way he kept missing the bed whenever he chucked something at it, and his sad old bathrobe with his chest showing, and that grippy smell of Vicks Nose Drops all over the place.

"Look, sir. Don't worry about me, "I said. "I mean it. I'll be all right. I'm just going through a phase right now. Everybody goes through phases and all, don't they? "

"I don't know, boy. I don't know. "

I hate it when somebody answers that way.

"Sure. Sure, they do, "I said. "I mean it, sir. Please don't worry about me. "I sort of put my hand on his shoulder. "Okay?" I said.

"Wouldn't you like a cup of hot chocolate before you go? Mrs. Spencer would be-"

"I would, I really would, but the thing is, I have to get going. I have to go right to the gym. Thanks, though. Thanks a lot, sir. "

Then we shook hands. And all that crap. It made me feel sad as hell, though.

"I'll drop you a line, sir. Take care of your grippe, now. "

"Good-by, boy." After I shut the door and started back to the living room, he yelled something at me, but I couldn't exactly hear him. I'm pretty sure he yelled "Good luck!" At me, I hope to hell not. I'd never yell "Good luck!" At anybody. It sounds terrible, when you think about it.

3

I'm the most terrific liar you ever saw in your life. It's awful. If I'm on my way to the store to buy a magazine, even, and somebody asks me where I'm going, I'm liable to say I'm going to the opera. It's terrible. So when I told old Spencer I had to go to the gym and get my equipment and stuff, that was a sheer lie. I don't even keep my goddam equipment in the gym.

Where I lived at Pencey, I lived in the Ossenburger Memorial Wing of the new dorms. It was only for juniors and seniors. I was a junior. My roommate was a senior. It was named after this guy Ossenburger that went to Pencey. He made a pot of dough in the undertaking business after he got out of Pencey. What he did, he started these undertaking parlors all over the country that you could get members of your family buried for about five bucks apiece. You should see old Ossenburger. He probably just shoves them in a sack and dumps them in the river. Anyway, he gave Pencey a pile of dough, and they named our wing alter him. The first football game of the year, he came up to school in this big goddam Cadillac, and we all had to stand up in the grandstand and give him a locomotive-that's a cheer. Then, the next morning, in chapel, be made a speech that lasted about ten hours. He started off with about fifty corny jokes, just to show us what a regular guy he was. Very big deal. Then he started telling us how he was never ashamed, when he was in some kind of trouble or something, to get right down his knees and pray to God. He told us we should always pray to God-talk to Him and all-wherever we were. He told us we ought to think of Jesus as our buddy and all. He said he talked to Jesus all the time. Even when he was driving his car. That killed me. I just see the big phony bastard shifting into first gear and asking Jesus to send him a few more stiffs. The only good part of his speech was right in the middle of it. He was telling us all about what a swell guy he was, what a hot-shot and all, then all of a sudden this guy sitting in the row in front of me, Edgar Marsalla, laid this terrific fart. It was a very crude thing to do, in chapel and all, but it was also quite amusing. Old Marsalla. He damn near blew the roof off. Hardly anybody laughed out loud, and old Ossenburger made out like he didn't even hear it, but old Thurmer, the headmaster, was sitting right next to him on the rostrum and all, and you could tell he heard it. Boy, was he sore. He didn't say anything then, but the next night he made us have compulsory study hall in the academic building and he came up and made a speech. He said that the boy that had created the disturbance in chapel wasn't fit to go to Pencey. We tried to get old Marsalla to rip off another one, right while old Thurmer was making his speech, but be wasn't in the right mood.

Anyway, that's where I lived at Pencey. Old Ossenburger Memorial Wing, in the new dorms. It was pretty nice to get back to my room, after I left old Spencer, because everybody was down at the game, and the heat was on in our room, for a change. It felt sort of cosy. I took off my coat and my tie and unbuttoned my shirt collar; and then I put on this hat that I'd bought in New York that morning. It was this red hunting hat, with one of those very, very long peaks. I saw it in the window of this sports store when we got out of the subway, just after I noticed I'd lost all the goddam foils. It only cost me a buck. The way I wore it, I swung the old peak way around to the back-very corny, I'll admit, but I liked it that way. I looked good in it that way. Then I got this book I was reading and sat down in my chair. There were two chairs in every room. I had one and my roommate, Ward Stradlater, had one. The arms were in sad shape, because everybody was always sitting on them, but they were pretty comfortable chairs.

I was only horsing around, naturally. That stuff gives me a bang sometimes. Besides, I know it annoyed hell out of old Ackley. He always brought out the old sadist in me. I was pretty sadistic with him quite often. Finally, I quit, though. I pulled the peak around to the back again, and relaxed.

"Who belongsa this?" Ackley said. He was holding my roommate's knee supporter up to show me.

That guy Ackley'd pick up anything. He'd even pick up your jock strap or something. I told him it was Stradlater's. So he chucked it on Stradlater's bed. He got it off Stradlater's chiffonier, so he chucked it on the bed.

He came over and sat down on the arm of Stradlater's chair. He never sat down in a chair. Just always on the arm.

“Where the hellja get that hat?” he said. “New York.”

“How much?”

“A buck.”

“You got robbed.” He started cleaning his goddam fingernails with the end of a match. He was always cleaning his fingernails. It was funny, in a way. His teeth were always mossy-looking, and his ears were always dirty as hell, but he was always cleaning his fingernails. I guess he thought that made him a very neat guy. He took another look at my hat while he was cleaning them. “Up home we wear a hat like that to shoot deer in, for Chrissake,” he said. “That's a deer shooting hat.”

“Like hell it is.” I took it off and looked at it. I sort of closed one eye, like I was taking aim at it. “This is a people shooting hat,” I said. “I shoot people in this hat.”

“Your folks know you got kicked out yet?”

“Nope.”

“Where the hell's Stradlater at, anyway?”

“Down at the game. He's got a date.” I yawned. I was yawning all over the place. For one thing, the room was too damn hot. It made you sleepy. At Pencey, you either froze to death or died of the heat.

“The great Stradlater,” Ackley said. “-Hey. Lend me your scissors a second, willya? Ya got 'em handy?”

“No. I packed them already. They're way in the top of the closet.”

“Get 'em a second, willya?” Ackley said, “I got this hangnail I want to cut off.”

He didn't care if you'd packed something or not and had it way in the top of the closet. I got them for him though. I nearly got killed doing it, too. The second I opened the closet door, Stradlater's tennis racket-in its wooden press and all-fell right on my head. It made a big clunk, and it hurt like hell. It damn near killed old Ackley, though. He started laughing in this very high falsetto voice. He kept laughing the whole time I was taking down my suitcase and getting the scissors out for him. Something like that-a guy getting hit on the head with a rock or something-tickled the pants off Ackley.

“You have a damn good sense of humor, Ackley kid,” I told him. “You know that?” I handed him the scissors. “Lemme be your manager. I'll get you on the goddam radio.”

I sat down in my chair again, and he started cutting his big horny-looking nails.

“How 'bout using the table or something?” I said. “Cut 'em over the table, willya? I don't feel like walking on your crumby nails in my bare feet tonight.”

He kept right on cutting them over the floor, though. What lousy manners. I mean it.

“Who's Stradlater's date?” he said. He was always keeping tabs on who Stradlater was dating, even though he hated Stradlater's guts.

“I don't know. Why?”

“No reason. Boy, I can't stand that sonuvabitch. He's one sonuvabitch I really can't stand.”

“He's crazy about you. He told me he thinks you're a goddam prince,” I said. I call people a “prince” quite often when I'm horsing around. It keeps me from getting bored or something.

“He's got this superior attitude all the time,” Ackley said. “I just can't stand the sonuvabitch. You'd think he-”

“Do you mind cutting your nails over the table, hey?” I said. “I've asked you about fifty-”

“He's got this goddam superior attitude all the time,” Ackley said. “I don't even think the sonuvabitch is intelligent. He thinks he is. He thinks he's about the most-”

“Ackley! For Chrissake. Willya please cut your crumby nails over the table ? I've asked you fifty times.”

He started cutting his nails over the table, for a change. The only way he ever did anything was if you yelled at him.

I watched him for a while.

Then I said, “The reason you're sore at Stradlater is because he said that stuff about brushing your teeth once in a while. He didn't mean to insult you, for cryin' out loud. He didn't say it right or anything, but he didn't mean anything insulting. All he meant was you'd look better and feel better if you sort of brushed your teeth once in a while.”

“I brush my teeth. Don't gimme that.”

“No, you don't. I've seen you, and you don't,” I said. I didn't say it nasty, though. I felt sort of sorry for him, in a way. I mean it isn't too nice, naturally, if somebody tells you you don't brush your teeth. “Stradlater's all right He's not too bad,” I said. “You don't know him, thats the trouble.”

“I still say he's a sonuvabitch. He's a conceited sonuvabitch.”

“He's conceited, but he's very generous in some things. He really is,” I said. “Look. Suppose, for instance, Stradlater was wearing a tie or something that you liked. Say he had a tie on that you liked a helluva lot-I'm just giving you an example, now. You know what he'd do? He'd probably take it off and give it ta you. He really would. Or-you know what he'd do? He'd leave it on your bed or something. But he'd give you the goddam tie. Most guys would probably just-”

“Hell,” Ackley said. “If I had his dough, I would, too.”

“No, you wouldn't.” I shook my head. “No, you wouldn't, Ackley kid. If you had his dough, you'd be one of the biggest-”

“Stop calling me 'Ackley kid,' God damn it. I'm old enough to be your lousy father.”

“No, you're not.” Boy, he could really be aggravating sometimes. He never missed a chance to let you know you were sixteen and he was eighteen. “In the first place, I wouldn't let you in my goddam family,” I said.

“Well, just cut out calling me-”

All of a sudden the door opened, and old Stradlater barged in, in a big hurry. He was always in a big hurry. Everything was a very big deal. He came over to me and gave me these two playful as hell slaps on both cheeks-which is something that can be very annoying.

“Listen,” he said. “You going out anywheres special tonight?”

“I don't know. I might. What the hell's it doing out-snowing?”

He had snow all over his coat.

"Yeah. Listen. If you're not going out anyplace special, how 'bout lending me your hound's-tooth jacket?”

“Who won the game?” I said.

“It's only the half. We're leaving,” Stradlater said. “No kidding, you gonna use your hound's-tooth tonight or not? I spilled some crap all over my gray flannel.”

“No, but I don't want you stretching it with your goddam shoulders and all,” I said.

We were practically the same heighth, but he weighed about twice as much as I did. He had these very broad shoulders.

“I won't stretch it.” He went over to the closet in a big hurry. “How'sa boy, Ackley?” he said to Ackley. He was at least a pretty friendly guy, Stradlater. It was partly a phony kind of friendly, but at least he always said hello to Ackley and all.

Ackley just sort of grunted when he said “How'sa boy?” He wouldn't answer him, but he didn't have guts enough not to at least grunt. Then he said to me, “I think I'll get going. See ya later.”

“Okay,” I said. He never exactly broke your heart when he went back to his own room.

Old Stradlater started taking off his coat and tie and all.

“I think maybe I'll take a fast shave,” he said. He had a pretty heavy beard. He really did.

“Where's your date?” I asked him.

“She's waiting in the Annex.” He went out of the room with his toilet kit and towel under his arm. No shirt on or anything. He always walked around in his bare torso because he thought he had a damn good build. He did, too. I have to admit it.

4

“It's the opening night of the Ziegfeld Follies.” I was getting out of breath. I have hardly any wind at all. “The leading man can't go on. He's drunk as a bastard. So who do they get to take his place? Me, that's who. The little ole goddam Governor's son.”

“Where'dja get that hat?” Stradlater said. He meant my hunting hat. He'd never seen it before.

I was out of breath anyway, so I quit horsing around. I took off my hat and looked at it for about the ninetieth time.

“I got it in New York this morning. For a buck. Ya like it?”

Stradlater nodded.

“Sharp,” he said. He was only flattering me, though, because right away he said, “Listen. Are ya gonna write that composition for me? I have to know.”

“If I get the time, I will. If I don't, I won't,” I said. I went over and sat down at the washbowl next to him again. “Who's your date?” I asked him. “Fitzgerald?”

“Hell, no! I told ya. I'm through with that pig.”

“Yeah? Give her to me, boy. No kidding. She's my type.”

“Take her... She's too old for you.”

All of a sudden-for no good reason, really, except that I was sort of in the mood for horsing around-I felt like jumping off the washbowl and getting old Stradlater in a half nelson. That's a wrestling hold, in case you don't know, where you get the other guy around the neck and choke him to death, if you feel like it. So I did it. I landed on him like a goddam panther.

“Cut it out, Holden, for Chrissake!” Stradlater said. He didn't feel like horsing around. He was shaving and all. “Wuddaya wanna make me do-cut my goddam head off?”

I didn't let go, though. I had a pretty good half nelson on him.

“Liberate yourself from my viselike grip.” I said.

“Je-sus Christ.” He put down his razor, and all of a sudden jerked his arms up and sort of broke my hold on him. He was a very strong guy. I'm a very weak guy. “Now, cut out the crap,” he said. He started shaving himself all over again. He always shaved himself twice, to look gorgeous. With his crumby old razor.

“Who is your date if it isn't Fitzgerald?” I asked him. I sat down on the washbowl next to him again. “That Phyllis Smith babe?”

“No. It was supposed to he, but the arrangements got all screwed up. I got Bud Thaw's girl's roommate now... Hey. I almost forgot. She knows you.”

“Who does?” I said.

“My date.”

“Yeah?” I said. “What's her name?” I was pretty interested.

“I'm thinking... Uh. Jean Gallagher.”

Boy, I nearly dropped dead when he said that.

“Jane Gallagher,” I said. I even got up from the washbowl when he said that. I damn near dropped dead. “You're damn right I know her. She practically lived right next door to me, the summer before last. She had this big damn Doberman pinscher. That's how I met her. Her dog used to keep coming over in our-”

“You're right in my light, Holden, for Chrissake,” Stradlater said. “Ya have to stand right there?”

Boy, was I excited, though. I really was.

“Where is she?” I asked him. “I oughta go down and say hello to her or something. Where is she? In the Annex?”

“Yeah.”

“How'd she happen to mention me? Does she go to BM now? She said she might go there. She said she might go to Shipley, too. I thought she went to Shipley. How'd she happen to mention me?” I was pretty excited. I really was.

“I don't know, for Chrissake. Lift up, willya? You're on my towel,” Stradlater said.

I was sitting on his stupid towel.

“Jane Gallagher,” I said. I couldn't get over it. “Jesus H. Christ.”

Old Stradlater was putting Vitalis on his hair. My Vitalis.

“She's a dancer,” I said. “Ballet and all. She used to practice about two hours every day, right in the middle of the hottest weather and all. She was worried that it might make her legs lousy-all thick and all. I used to play checkers with her all the time.”

“You used to play what with her all the time?”

“Checkers.”

“Checkers, for Chrissake!”

"Yeah. She wouldn't move any of her kings. What she'd do, when she'd get a king, she wouldn't move it. She'd just leave it in the back row. She'd get them all lined up in the back row. Then she'd never use them. She just liked the way they looked when they were all in the back row.”

Stradlater didn't say anything. That kind of stuff doesn't interest most people.

“Her mother belonged to the same club we did,” I said. “I used to caddy once in a while, just to make some dough. I caddy'd for her mother a couple of times. She went around in about a hundred and seventy, for nine holes.”

Stradlater wasn't hardly listening. He was combing his gorgeous locks.

“I oughta go down and at least say hello to her,” I said.

“Why don'tcha?”

“I will, in a minute.”

He started parting his hair all over again. It took him about an hour to comb his hair.

“Her mother and father were divorced. Her mother was married again to some booze hound,” I said. “Skinny guy with hairy legs. I remember him. He wore shorts all the time. Jane said he was supposed to be a playwright or some goddam thing, but all I ever saw him do was booze all the time and listen to every single goddam mystery program on the radio. And run around the goddam house, naked. With Jane around, and all.”

“Yeah?” Stradlater said. That really interested him. About the booze hound running around the house naked, with Jane around. Stradlater was a very sexy bastard.

“She had a lousy childhood. I'm not kidding.”

That didn't interest Stradlater, though. Only very sexy stuff interested him.

"Jane Gallagher. Jesus... I couldn't get her off my mind. I really couldn't. “I oughta go down and say hello to her, at least.”

“Why the hell don'tcha, instead of keep saying it?” Stradlater said.

I walked over to the window, but you couldn't see out of it, it was so steamy from all the heat in the can..

“I'm not in the mood right now,” I said. I wasn't, either. You have to be in the mood for those things. “I thought she went to Shipley. I could've sworn she went to Shipley.” I walked around the can for a little while. I didn't have anything else to do. “Did she enjoy the game?” I said.

“Yeah, I guess so. I don't know. "

“Did she tell you we used to play checkers all the time, or anything?”

“I don't know. For Chrissake, I only just met her,” Stradlater said. He was finished combing his goddam gorgeous hair. He was putting away all his crumby toilet articles.

“Listen. Give her my regards, willya?”

“Okay,” Stradlater said, but I knew he probably wouldn't. You take a guy like Stradlater, they never give your regards to people.

He went back to the room, but I stuck around in the can for a while, thinking about old Jane. Then I went back to the room, too.

Stradlater was putting on his tie, in front of the mirror, when I got there. He spent around half his goddam life in front of the mirror. I sat down in my chair and sort of watched him for a while.

“Hey,” I said. “Don't tell her I got kicked out, willya?”

“Okay.”

That was one good thing about Stradlater. You didn't have to explain every goddam little thing with him, the way you had to do with Ackley. Mostly, I guess, because he wasn't too interested. That's really why. Ackley, it was different. Ackley was a very nosy bastard.

He put on my hound's-tooth jacket.

“Jesus, now, try not to stretch it all over the place” I said. I'd only worn it about twice.

“I won't. Where the hell's my cigarettes?”

“On the desk.”

He never knew where he left anything.

“Under your muffler.”

He put them in his coat pocket-my coat pocket.

I pulled the peak of my hunting hat around to the front all of a sudden, for a change. I was getting sort of nervous, all of a sudden. I'm quite a nervous guy.

“Listen, where ya going on your date with her?” I asked him. “Ya know yet?”

“I don't know. New York, if we have time. She only signed out for nine-thirty, for Chrissake.”

I didn't like the way he said it, so I said, “The reason she did that, she probably just didn't know what a handsome, charming bastard you are. If she'd known , she probably would've signed out for nine-thirty in the morning .”

“Goddam right,” Stradlater said. You couldn't rile him too easily. He was too conceited. “No kidding, now. Do that composition for me,” he said. He had his coat on, and he was all ready to go. “Don't knock yourself out or anything, but just make it descriptive as hell. Okay?”

I didn't answer him. I didn't feel like it. All I said was, “Ask her if she still keeps all her kings in the back row.”

“Okay,” Stradlater said, but I knew he wouldn't. “Take it easy, now.” He banged the hell out of the room.

I sat there for about a half hour after he left. I mean I just sat in my chair, not doing anything. I kept thinking about Jane, and about Stradlater having a date with her and all. It made me so nervous I nearly went crazy. I already told you what a sexy bastard Stradlater was.

All of a sudden, Ackley barged back in again, through the damn shower curtains, as usual. For once in my stupid life, I was really glad to see him. He took my mind off the other stuff.

He stuck around till around dinnertime, talking about all the guys at Pencey that he hated their guts, and squeezing this big pimple on his chin. He didn't even use his handkerchief. I don't even think the bastard had a handkerchief, if you want to know the truth. I never saw him use one, anyway.

5

We always had the same meal on Saturday nights at Pencey. It was supposed to be a big deal, because they gave you steak. I'll bet a thousand bucks the reason they did that was because a lot of guys' parents came up to school on Sunday, and old Thurmer probably figured everybody's mother would ask their darling boy what he had for dinner last night, and he'd say, “Steak.” What a racket. You should've seen the steaks. They were these little hard, dry jobs that you could hardly even cut. You always got these very lumpy mashed potatoes on steak night, and for dessert you got Brown Betty, which nobody ate, except maybe the little kids in the lower school that didn't know any better-and guys like Ackley that ate everything.

It was nice, though, when we got out of the dining room. There were about three inches of snow on the ground, and it was still coming down like a madman. It looked pretty as hell, and we all started throwing snowballs and horsing around all over the place. It was very childish, but everybody was really enjoying themselves.

Anyway, the corridor was all linoleum and all, and you could hear his goddam footsteps coming right towards the room. I don't even remember where I was sitting when he came in-at the window, or in my chair or his. I swear I can't remember.

He came in griping about how cold it was out. Then he said,

“Where the hell is everybody? It's like a goddam morgue around here.”

I didn't even bother to answer him. If he was so goddam stupid not to realize it was Saturday night and everybody was out or asleep or home for the week end, I wasn't going to break my neck telling him. He started getting undressed. He didn't say one goddam word about Jane. Not one. Neither did I. I just watched him. All he did was thank me for letting him wear my hound's-tooth. He hung it up on a hanger and put it in the closet.

Then when he was taking off his tie, he asked me if I'd written his goddam composition for him. I told him it was over on his goddam bed. He walked over and read it while he was unbuttoning his shirt. He stood there, reading it, and sort of stroking his bare chest and stomach, with this very stupid expression on his face. He was always stroking his stomach or his chest. He was mad about himself.

All of a sudden, he said,

“For Chrissake, Holden. This is about a goddam baseball glove.”

“So what?” I said. Cold as hell.

“Wuddaya mean so what? I told ya it had to be about a goddam room or a house or something.”

“You said it had to be descriptive. What the hell's the difference if it's about a baseball glove?”

“God damn it.” He was sore as hell. He was really furious. “You always do everything backasswards.” He looked at me. “No wonder you're flunking the hell out of here,” he said. “You don't do one damn thing the way you're supposed to. I mean it. Not one damn thing.”

“All right, give it back to me, then,” I said. I went over and pulled it right out of his goddam hand. Then I tore it up.

“What the hellja do that for?” he said.

I didn't even answer him. I just threw the pieces in the wastebasket. Then I lay down on my bed, and we both didn't say anything for a long time. He got all undressed, down to his shorts, and I lay on my bed and lit a cigarette. You weren't allowed to smoke in the dorm, but you could do it late at night when everybody was asleep or out and nobody could smell the smoke. Besides, I did it to annoy Stradlater. It drove him crazy when you broke any rules. He never smoked in the dorm. It was only me.

He still didn't say one single solitary word about Jane. So finally I said,

“You're back pretty goddam late if she only signed out for nine-thirty. Did you make her be late signing in?”

Then he really let one go at me, and the next thing I knew I was on the goddam floor again. I don't remember if he knocked me out or not, but I don't think so. It's pretty hard to knock a guy out, except in the goddam movies. But my nose was bleeding all over the place. When I looked up old Stradlater was standing practically right on top of me. He had his goddam toilet kit under his arm.

“Why the hell don'tcha shut up when I tellya to?” he said. He sounded pretty nervous. He probably was scared he'd fractured my skull or something when I hit the floor. It's too bad I didn't. “You asked for it, God damn it,” he said. Boy, did he look worried.

I didn't even bother to get up. I just lay there in the floor for a while, and kept calling him a moron sonuvabitch. I was so mad, I was practically bawling.

“Listen. Go wash your face,” Stradlater said. “Ya hear me?”

I told him to go wash his own moron face-which was a pretty childish thing to say, but I was mad as hell. I told him to stop off on the way to the can and give Mrs. Schmidt the time. Mrs. Schmidt was the janitor's wife. She was around sixty-five.

I kept sitting there on the floor till I heard old Stradlater close the door and go down the corridor to the can. Then I got up. I couldn't find my goddam hunting hat anywhere. Finally I found it. It was under the bed. I put it on, and turned the old peak around to the back, the way I liked it, and then I went over and took a look at my stupid face in the mirror. You never saw such gore in your life. I had blood all over my mouth and chin and even on my pajamas and bath robe. It partly scared me and it partly fascinated me. All that blood and all sort of made me look tough. I'd only been in about two fights in my life, and I lost both of them. I'm not too tough. I'm a pacifist, if you want to know the truth.

I had a feeling old Ackley'd probably heard all the racket and was awake. So I went through the shower curtains into his room, just to see what the hell he was doing. I hardly ever went over to his room. It always had a funny stink in it, because he was so crumby in his personal habits.

7

A tiny bit of light came through the shower curtains and all from our room, and I could see him lying in bed. I knew damn well he was wide awake.

“Ackley?” I said. “Y'awake?”

“Yeah.”

It was pretty dark, and I stepped on somebody's shoe on the floor and danm near fell on my head. Ackley sort of sat up in bed and leaned on his arm. He had a lot of white stuff on his face, for his pimples. He looked sort of spooky in the dark.

“What the hellya doing, anyway?” I said.

“Wuddaya mean what the hell am I doing? I was tryna sleep before you guys started making all that noise. What the hell was the fight about, anyhow?”

“Where's the light?” I couldn't find the light. I was sliding my hand all over the wall.

“Wuddaya want the light for?... Right next to your hand.”

I finally found the switch and turned It on. Old Ackley put his hand up so the light wouldn't hurt his eyes.

“Jesus!” he said. “What the hell happened to you?”

He meant all the blood and all. “I had a little goddam tiff with Stradlater,” I said. Then I sat down on the floor. They never had any chairs in their room. I don't know what the hell they did with their chairs.

“Listen,” I said, “do you feel like playing a little Canasta?” He was a Canasta fiend.

“You're still bleeding, for Chrissake. You better put something on it.”

“It'll stop. Listen. Ya wanna play a little Canasta or don'tcha?”

“Canasta, for Chrissake. Do you know what time it is, by any chance?”

“It isn't late. It's only around eleven, eleven-thirty.”

“Only around!” Ackley said. “Listen. I gotta get up and go to Mass in the morning, for Chrissake. You guys start hollering and fighting in the middle of the goddam-What the hell was the fight about, anyhow?”

“It's a long story. I don't wanna bore ya, Ackley. I'm thinking of your welfare,” I told him. I never discussed my personal life with him. In the first place, he was even more stupid than Stradlater. Stradlater was a goddam genius next to Ackley. “Hey,” I said, “is it okay if I sleep in Ely's bed tonight? He won't be back till tomorrow night, will he?” I knew damn well he wouldn't. Ely went home damn near every week end.

“I don't know when the hell he's coming back,” Ackley said.

Boy, did that annoy me.

“What the hell do you mean you don't know when he's coming back? He never comes back till Sunday night, does he?”

“No, but for Chrissake, I can't just tell somebody they can sleep in his goddam bed if they want to.”

That killed me. I reached up from where I was sitting on the floor and patted him on the goddam shoulder.

“You're a prince, Ackley kid,” I said. “You know that?”

“No, I mean it-I can't just tell somebody they can sleep in-”

“You're a real prince. You're a gentleman and a scholar, kid,” I said. He really was, too. “Do you happen to have any cigarettes, by any chance?-Say 'no' or I'll drop dead.”

“No, I don't, as a matter of fact. Listen, what the hell was the fight about?”

I didn't answer him. All I did was, I got up and went over and looked out the window. I felt so lonesome, all of a sudden. I almost wished I was dead.

“What the hell was the fight about, anyhow?” Ackley said, for about the fiftieth time. He certainly was a bore about that.

“About you,” I said.

“About me, for Chrissake?”

"Yeah. I was defending your goddam honor. Stradlater said you had a lousy personality. I couldn't let him get away with that stuff.”

That got him excited.

“He did? No kidding? He did?”

I told him I was only kidding, and then I went over and laid down on Ely's bed. Boy, did I feel rotten. I felt so damn lonesome.

“This room stinks,” I said. “I can smell your socks from way over here. Don'tcha ever send them to the laundry?”

“If you don't like it, you know what you can do,” Ackley said. What a witty guy. “How 'bout turning off the goddam light?”

I didn't turn it off right away, though. I just kept laying there on Ely's bed, thinking about Jane and all. It just drove me stark staring mad when I thought about her and Stradlater parked somewhere in that fat-assed Ed Banky's car. Every time I thought about it, I felt like jumping out the window. The thing is, you didn't know Stradlater. I knew him. Most guys at Pencey just talked about having sexual intercourse with girls all the time-like Ackley, for instance-but old Stradlater really did it. I was personally acquainted with at least two girls he gave the time to. That's the truth.

“Tell me the story of your fascinating life, Ackley kid,” I said.

“How 'bout turning off the goddam light? I gotta get up for Mass in the morning.”

I got up and turned it off, if it made him happy. Then I laid down on Ely's bed again.

“What're ya gonna do-sleep in Ely's bed?” Ackley said. He was the perfect host, boy.

“I may. I may not. Don't worry about it.”

“I'm not worried about it. Only, I'd hate like hell if Ely came in all of a sudden and found some guy-”

“Relax. I'm not gonna sleep here. I wouldn't abuse your goddam hospitality.”

Everybody was asleep or out or home for the week end, and it was very, very quiet and depressing in the corridor. There was this empty box of Kolynos toothpaste outside Leahy and Hoffman's door, and while I walked down towards the stairs, I kept giving it a boot with this sheep-lined slipper I had on. What I thought I'd do, I thought I might go down and see what old Mal Brossard was doing. But all of a sudden, I changed my mind. All of a sudden, I decided what I'd really do, I'd get the hell out of Pencey-right that same night and all. I mean not wait till Wednesday or anything. I just didn't want to hang around any more. It made me too sad and lonesome. So what I decided to do, I decided I'd take a room in a hotel in New York-some very inexpensive hotel and all-and just take it easy till Wednesday. Then, on Wednesday, I'd go home all rested up and feeling swell. I figured my parents probably wouldn't get old Thurmer's letter saying I'd been given the ax till maybe Tuesday or Wednesday. I didn't want to go home or anything till they got it and thoroughly digested it and all. I didn't want to be around when they first got it. My mother gets very hysterical. She's not too bad after she gets something thoroughly digested, though. Besides, I sort of needed a little vacation. My nerves were shot. They really were.

Anyway, that's what I decided I'd do. So I went back to the room and turned on the light, to start packing and all. I already had quite a few things packed. Old Stradlater didn't even wake up. I lit a cigarette and got all dressed and then I packed these two Gladstones I have. It only took me about two minutes. I'm a very rapid packer.

One thing about packing depressed me a little. I had to pack these brand-new ice skates my mother had practically just sent me a couple of days before. That depressed me. I could see my mother going in Spaulding's and asking the salesman a million dopy questions-and here I was getting the ax again. It made me feel pretty sad. She bought me the wrong kind of skates-I wanted racing skates and she bought hockey-but it made me sad anyway. Almost every time somebody gives me a present, it ends up making me sad.

After I got all packed, I sort of counted my dough. I don't remember exactly how much I had, but I was pretty loaded. My grandmother'd just sent me a wad about a week before. I have this grandmother that's quite lavish with her dough. She doesn't have all her marbles any more-she's old as hell-and she keeps sending me money for my birthday about four times a year. Anyway, even though I was pretty loaded, I figured I could always use a few extra bucks. You never know. So what I did was, I went down the hail and woke up Frederick Woodruff, this guy I'd lent my typewriter to. I asked him how much he'd give me for it. He was a pretty wealthy guy. He said he didn't know. He said he didn't much want to buy it. Finally he bought it, though. It cost about ninety bucks, and all he bought it for was twenty. He was sore because I'd woke him up.

When I was all set to go, when I had my bags and all, I stood for a while next to the stairs and took a last look down the goddam corridor. I was sort of crying. I don't know why. I put my red hunting hat on, and turned the peak around to the back, the way I liked it, and then I yelled at the top of my goddam voice,

“Sleep tight, ya morons!”

I'll bet I woke up every bastard on the whole floor. Then I got the hell out. Some stupid guy had thrown peanut shells all over the stairs, and I damn near broke my crazy neck.

8

It was too late to call up for a cab or anything, so I walked the whole way to the station. It wasn't too far, but it was cold as hell, and the snow made it hard for walking, and my Gladstones kept banging hell out of my legs. I sort of enjoyed the air and all, though. The only trouble was, the cold made my nose hurt, and right under my upper lip, where old Stradlater'd laid one on me. He'd smacked my lip right on my teeth, and it was pretty sore. My ears were nice and warm, though. That hat I bought had earlaps in it, and I put them on-I didn't give a damn how I looked. Nobody was around anyway. Everybody was in the sack.

I was quite lucky when I got to the station, because I only had to wait about ten minutes for a train. While I waited, I got some snow in my hand and washed my face with it. I still had quite a bit of blood on.

“Pencey? It's not too bad. It's not paradise or anything, but it's as good as most schools. Some of the faculty are pretty conscientious.”

“Ernest just adores it.”

“I know he does,” I said. Then I started shooting the old crap around a little bit. “He adapts himself very well to things. He really does. I mean he really knows how to adapt himself.”

“Do you think so?” she asked me. She sounded interested as hell.

“Ernest? Sure,” I said. Then I watched her take off her gloves. Boy, was she lousy with rocks.

“I just broke a nail, getting out of a cab,” she said. She looked up at me and sort of smiled. She had a terrifically nice smile. She really did. Most people have hardly any smile at all, or a lousy one.

“Ernest's father and I sometimes worry about him,” she said. “We sometimes feel he's not a terribly good mixer.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well. He's a very sensitive boy. He's really never been a terribly good mixer with other boys. Perhaps he takes things a little more seriously than he should at his age.”

Sensitive. That killed me. That guy Morrow was about as sensitive as a goddam toilet seat.

I gave her a good look. She didn't look like any dope to me. She looked like she might have a pretty damn good idea what a bastard she was the mother of. But you can't always tell-with somebody's mother, I mean. Mothers are all slightly insane. The thing is, though, I liked old Morrow's mother. She was all right.

“Would you care for a cigarette?” I asked her.

She looked all around.

“I don't believe this is a smoker, Rudolf,” she said. Rudolf. That killed me.

“That's all right. We can smoke till they start screaming at us,” I said.

She took a cigarette off me, and I gave her a light.

She looked nice, smoking. She inhaled and all, but she didn't wolf the smoke down, the way most women around her age do. She had a lot of charm. She had quite a lot of sex appeal, too, if you really want to know.

She was looking at me sort of funny. I may be wrong but I believe your nose is bleeding, dear, she said, all of a sudden. I nodded and took out my handkerchief.

“I got hit with a snowball,” I said. “One of those very icy ones.”

I probably would've told her what really happened, but it would've taken too long. I liked her, though. I was beginning to feel sort of sorry I'd told her my name was Rudolf Schmidt.

“Old Ernie,” I said. “He's one of the most popular boys at Pencey. Did you know that?”

“No, I didn't.”

I nodded.

“It really took everybody quite a long time to get to know him. He's a funny guy. A strange guy, in lots of ways-know what I mean? Like when I first met him. When I first met him, I thought he was kind of a snobbish person. That's what I thought. But he isn't. He's just got this very original personality that takes you a little while to get to know him.”

Old Mrs. Morrow didn't say anything, but boy, you should've seen her. I had her glued to her seat. You take somebody's mother, all they want to hear about is what a hot-shot their son is.

Then I really started chucking the old crap around.

“Did he tell you about the elections?” I asked her. “The class elections?”

She shook her head. I had her in a trance, like. I really did.

“Well, a bunch of us wanted old Ernie to be president of the class. I mean he was the unanimous choice. I mean he was the only boy that could really handle the job,” I said-boy, was I chucking it. “But this other boy-Harry Fencer-was elected. And the reason he was elected, the simple and obvious reason, was because Ernie wouldn't let us nominate him. Because he's so darn shy and modest and all. He refused... Boy, he's really shy. You oughta make him try to get over that.” I looked at her. “Didn't he tell you about it?”

“No, he didn't.”

I nodded.

“That's Ernie. He wouldn't. That's the one fault with him-he's too shy and modest. You really oughta get him to try to relax occasionally.”

Right that minute, the conductor came around for old Mrs. Morrow's ticket, and it gave me a chance to quit shooting it. I'm glad I shot it for a while, though. You take a guy like Morrow that's always snapping their towel at people's asses-really trying to hurt somebody with it-they don't just stay a rat while they're a kid. They stay a rat their whole life. But I'll bet, after all the crap I shot, Mrs. Morrow'll keep thinking of him now as this very shy, modest guy that wouldn't let us nominate him for president. She might. You can't tell. Mothers aren't too sharp about that stuff.

“Would you care for a cocktail?” I asked her. I was feeling in the mood for one myself. “We can go in the club car. All right?”

“Dear, are you allowed to order drinks?” she asked me. Not snotty, though. She was too charming and all to be snotty.

“Well, no, not exactly, but I can usually get them on account of my heighth,” I said. “And I have quite a bit of gray hair.” I turned sideways and showed her my gray hair. It fascinated hell out of her. “C'mon, join me, why don't you?” I said. I'd've enjoyed having her.

“I really don't think I'd better. Thank you so much, though, dear,” she said. “Anyway, the club car's most likely closed. It's quite late, you know.”

She was right. I'd forgotten all about what time it was.

Then she looked at me and asked me what I was afraid she was going to ask me.

“Ernest wrote that he'd be home on Wednesday, that Christmas vacation would start on Wednesday,” she said. “I hope you weren't called home suddenly because of illness in the family.”

She really looked worried about it. She wasn't just being nosy, you could tell.

“No, everybody's fine at home,” I said. “It's me. I have to have this operation.”

“Oh! I'm so sorry,” she said. She really was, too. I was right away sorry I'd said it, but it was too late.

“It isn't very serious. I have this tiny little tumor on the brain.”

“Oh, no!” She put her hand up to her mouth and all.

“Oh, I'll be all right and everything! It's right near the outside. And it's a very tiny one. They can take it out in about two minutes.”

Then I started reading this timetable I had in my pocket. Just to stop lying. Once I get started, I can go on for hours if I feel like it. No kidding. Hours .

We didn't talk too much after that. She started reading this Vogue she had with her, and I looked out the window for a while. She got off at Newark. She wished me a lot of luck with the operation and all. She kept calling me Rudolf. Then she invited me to visit Ernie during the summer, at Gloucester, Massachusetts. She said their house was right on the beach, and they had a tennis court and all, but I just thanked her and told her I was going to South America with my grandmother. Which was really a hot one, because my grandmother hardly ever even goes out of the house, except maybe to go to a goddam matinee or something. But I wouldn't visit that sonuvabitch Morrow for all the dough in the world, even if I was desperate.

9

After a while I sat down in a chair and smoked a couple of cigarettes. I was feeling pretty horny. I have to admit it. Then, all of a sudden, I got this idea. I took out my wallet and started looking for this address a guy I met at a party last summer, that went to Princeton, gave me. Finally I found it. It was all a funny color from my wallet, but you could still read it. It was the address of this girl that wasn't exactly a whore or anything but that didn't mind doing it once in a while, this Princeton guy told me. He brought her to a dance at Princeton once, and they nearly kicked him out for bringing her. She used to be a burlesque stripper or something. Anyway, I went over to the phone and gave her a buzz. Her name was Faith Cavendish, and she lived at the Stanford Arms Hotel on Sixty-fifth and Broadway. A dump, no doubt.

For a while, I didn t think she was home or something. Nobody kept answering. Then, finally, somebody picked up the phone.

“Hello?” I said. I made my voice quite deep so that she wouldn't suspect my age or anything. I have a pretty deep voice anyway.

“Hello,” this woman's voice said. None too friendly, either.

“Is this Miss Faith Cavendish?”

“Who's this?” she said. “Who's calling me up at this crazy goddam hour?”

That sort of scared me a little bit.

“Well, I know it's quite late,” I said, in this very mature voice and all. “I hope you'll forgive me, but I was very anxious to get in touch with you.” I said it suave as hell. I really did.

“Who is this?” she said.

“Well, you don't know me, but I'm a friend of Eddie Birdsell's. He suggested that if I were in town sometime, we ought to get together for a cocktail or two.”

“Who? You're a friend of who?” Boy, she was a real tigress over the phone. She was damn near yelling at me.

“Edmund Birdsell. Eddie Birdsell,” I said. I couldn't remember if his name was Edmund or Edward. I only met him once, at a goddam stupid party.

“I don't know anybody by that name, Jack. And if you think I enjoy bein' woke up in the middle-”

“Eddie Birdsell? From Princeton?” I said.

You could tell she was running the name over in her mind and all. “Birdsell, Birdsell... from Princeton... Princeton College?”

“That's right,” I said.

“You from Princeton College?”

“Well, approximately.”

"Oh ... How is Eddie?” she said. “This is certainly a peculiar time to call a person up, though. Jesus Christ.”

“He's fine. He asked to be remembered to you.”

“Well, thank you. Remember me to him,” she said. “He's a grand person. What's he doing now?” She was getting friendly as hell, all of a sudden.

“Oh, you know. Same old stuff,” I said. How the hell did I know what he was doing? I hardly knew the guy. I didn't even know if he was still at Princeton. “Look,” I said. “Would you be interested in meeting me for a cocktail somewhere?”

“By any chance do you have any idea what time it is?” she said. “What's your name, anyhow, may I ask?” She was getting an English accent, all of a sudden. “You sound a little on the young side.”

I laughed.

“Thank you for the compliment,” I said- suave as hell. “Holden Caulfield's my name.” I should've given her a phony name, but I didn't think of it.

“Well, look, Mr. Cawffle. I'm not in the habit of making engagements in the middle of the night. I'm a working gal.”

“Tomorrow's Sunday,” I told her.

“Well, anyway. I gotta get my beauty sleep. You know how it is.”

“I thought we might have just one cocktail together. It isn't too late.”

“Well. You're very sweet,” she said. “Where ya callin' from? Where ya at now, anyways?”

“Me? I'm in a phone booth.”

“Oh,” she said. Then there was this very long pause. “Well, I'd like awfully to get together with you sometime, Mr. Cawffle. You sound very attractive. You sound like a very attractive person. But it is late.”

“I could come up to your place.”

“Well, ordinary, I'd say grand. I mean I'd love to have you drop up for a cocktail, but my roommate happens to be ill. She's been laying here all night without a wink of sleep. She just this minute closed her eyes and all. I mean.”

“Oh. That's too bad.”

“Where ya stopping at? Perhaps we could get together for cocktails tomorrow.”

“I can't make it tomorrow,” I said. “Tonight's the only time I can make it.”

What a dope I was. I shouldn't've said that.

“Oh. Well, I'm awfully sorry.”

“I'll say hello to Eddie for you.”

“Willya do that? I hope you enjoy your stay in New York. It's a grand place.”

“I know it is. Thanks. Good night,” I said. Then I hung up.

Boy, I really fouled that up. I should've at least made it for cocktails or something.

10

It was still pretty early. I'm not sure what time it was, but it wasn't too late. The one thing I hate to do is go to bed when I'm not even tired. So I opened my suitcases and took out a clean shirt, and then I went in the bathroom and washed and changed my shirt. What I thought I'd do, I thought I'd go downstairs and see what the hell was going on in the Lavender Room . They had this night club, the Lavender Room , in the hotel.

While I was changing my shirt, I damn near gave my kid sister Phoebe a buzz, though. I certainly felt like talking to her on the phone. Somebody with sense and all. But I couldn't take a chance on giving her a buzz, because she was only a little kid and she wouldn't have been up, let alone anywhere near the phone. I thought of maybe hanging up if my parents answered, but that wouldn't've worked, either. They'd know it was me. My mother always knows it's me. She's psychic. But I certainly wouldn't have minded shooting the crap with old Phoebe for a while.

But it was worth it. The blonde was some dancer. She was one of the best dancers I ever danced with. I'm not kidding, some of these very stupid girls can really knock you out on a dance floor. You take a really smart girl, and half the time she's trying to lead you around the dance floor, or else she's such a lousy dancer, the best thing to do is stay at the table and just get drunk with her. “You really can dance,” I told the blonde one. “You oughta be a pro. I mean it. I danced with a pro once, and you're twice as good as she was. Did you ever hear of Marco and Miranda?”

“What?” she said. She wasn't even listening to me. She was looking all around the place. “I said did you ever hear of Marco and Miranda?”

“I don't know. No. I don't know. "

“Well, they're dancers, she's a dancer. She's not too hot, though. She does everything she's supposed to, but she's not so hot anyway. You know when a girl's really a terrific dancer?”

“Wudga say?” she said. She wasn't listening to me, even. Her mind was wandering all over the place.

“I said do you know when a girl's really a terrific dancer?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Well-where I have my hand on your back. If I think there isn't anything underneath my hand-no can, no legs, no feet, no anything-then the girl's really a terrific dancer.”

She wasn't listening, though. So I ignored her for a while. We just danced. God, could that dopey girl dance. Buddy Singer and his stinking band was playing “Just One of Those Things” and even they couldn't ruin it entirely. It's a swell song. I didn't try any trick stuff while we danced-I hate a guy that does a lot of show-off tricky stuff on the dance floor-but I was moving her around plenty, and she stayed with me. The funny thing is, I thought she was enjoying it, too, till all of a sudden she came out with this very dumb remark.

“I and my girl friends saw Peter Lorre last night,” she said. “The movie actor. In person. He was buyin' a newspaper. He's cute.”

“You're lucky,” I told her. “You're really lucky. You know that?” She was really a moron. But what a dancer. I could hardly stop myself from sort of giving her a kiss on the top of her dopey head-you know- right where the part is, and all. She got sore when I did it.

“Hey! What's the idea?”

“Nothing. No idea. You really can dance,” I said. “I have a kid sister that's only in the goddam fourth grade. You're about as good as she is, and she can dance better than anybody living or dead.”

“Watch your language, if you don't mind.” What a lady, boy. A queen, for Chrissake.

“Where you girls from?” I asked her. She didn't answer me, though. She was busy looking around for old Peter Lorre to show up, I guess.

“Where you girls from?” I asked her again.

“What?” she said.

“Where you girls from? Don't answer if you don't feel like it. I don't want you to strain yourself.”

“Seattle, Washington,” she said. She was doing me a big favor to tell me.

“You're a very good conversationalist,” I told her. “You know that?”

“What?”

I let it drop. It was over her head, anyway.

“Do you feel like jitterbugging a little bit, if they play a fast one? Not corny jitterbug, not jump or anything-just nice and easy. Everybody'll all sit down when they play a fast one, except the old guys and the fat guys, and we'll have plenty of room. Okay?”

“It's immaterial to me,” she said. “Hey-how old are you, anyhow?”

That annoyed me, for some reason.

“Oh, Christ. Don't spoil it,” I said. “I'm twelve, for Chrissake. I'm big for my age.”

“Listen. I toleja about that. I don't like that type language,” she said. “If you're gonna use that type language, I can go sit down with my girl friends, you know.”

I apologized like a madman, because the band was starting a fast one. She started jitterbugging with me- but just very nice and easy, not corny. She was really good. All you had to do was touch her. And when she turned around, her pretty little butt twitched so nice and all. She knocked me out. I mean it. I was half in love with her by the time we sat down. That's the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty, even if they're not much to look at, or even if they're sort of stupid, you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are. Girls. Jesus Christ. They can drive you crazy. They really can. They didn't invite me to sit down at their table- mostly because they were too ignorant-but I sat down anyway. The blonde I'd been dancing with's name was Bernice something-Crabs or Krebs. The two ugly ones' names were Marty and Laverne. I told them my name was Jim Steele, just for the hell of it. Then I tried to get them in a little intelligent conversation, but it was practically impossible. You had to twist their arms. You could hardly tell which was the stupidest of the three of them. And the whole three of them kept looking all around the goddam room, like as if they expected a flock of goddam movie stars to come in any minute. They probably thought movie stars always hung out in the Lavender Room when they came to New York, instead of the Stork Club or El Morocco and all. Anyway, it took me about a half hour to find out where they all worked and all in Seattle. They all worked in the same insurance office. I asked them if they liked it, but do you think you could get an intelligent answer out of those three dopes? I thought the two ugly ones, Marty and Laverne, were sisters, but they got very insulted when I asked them. You could tell neither one of them wanted to look like the other one, and you couldn't blame them, but it was very amusing anyway.

I danced with them all-the whole three of them-one at a time. The one ugly one, Laverne, wasn't too bad a dancer, but the other one, old Marty, was murder. Old Marty was like dragging the Statue of Liberty around the floor. The only way I could even half enjoy myself dragging her around was if I amused myself a little. So I told her I just saw Gary Cooper, the movie star, on the other side of the floor.

“Where?” she asked me-excited as hell. “Where?”

“Aw, you just missed him. He just went out. Why didn't you look when I told you?”

She practically stopped dancing, and started looking over everybody's heads to see if she could see him.

“Oh, shoot!” she said.

I'd just about broken her heart- I really had. I was sorry as hell I'd kidded her. Some people you shouldn't kid, even if they deserve it.

Here's what was very funny, though. When we got back to the table, old Marty told the other two that Gary Cooper had just gone out. Boy, old Laverne and Bernice nearly committed suicide when they heard that. They got all excited and asked Marty if she'd seen him and all. Old Mart said she'd only caught a glimpse of him. That killed me.

The bar was closing up for the night, so I bought them all two drinks apiece quick before it closed, and I ordered two more Cokes for myself. The goddam table was lousy with glasses. The one ugly one, Laverne, kept kidding me because I was only drinking Cokes. She had a sterling sense of humor. She and old Marty were drinking Tom Collinses-in the middle of December, for God's sake. They didn't know any better. The blonde one, old Bernice, was drinking bourbon and water. She was really putting it away, too. The whole three of them kept looking for movie stars the whole time. They hardly talked-even to each other. Old Marty talked more than the other two. She kept saying these very corny, boring things, like calling the can the “little girls' room,” and she thought Buddy Singer's poor old beat-up clarinet player was really terrific when he stood up and took a couple of ice-cold hot licks. She called his clarinet a “licorice stick.” Was she corny. The other ugly one, Laverne, thought she was a very witty type. She kept asking me to call up my father and ask him what he was doing tonight. She kept asking me if my father had a date or not. Four times she asked me that-she was certainly witty. Old Bernice, the blonde one, didn't say hardly anything at all. Every time I'd ask her something, she said “What?” That can get on your nerves after a while.

All of a sudden, when they finished their drink, all three of them stood up on me and said they had to get to bed. They said they were going to get up early to see the first show at Radio City Music Hall. I tried to get them to stick around for a while, but they wouldn't. So we said good-by and all. I told them I'd look them up in Seattle sometime, if I ever got there, but I doubt if I ever will. Look them up, I mean.

With cigarettes and all, the check came to about thirteen bucks. I think they should've at least offered to pay for the drinks they had before I joined them-I wouldn't've let them, naturally, but they should've at least offered. I didn't care much, though. They were so ignorant, and they had those sad, fancy hats on and all. And that business about getting up early to see the first show at Radio City Music Hall depressed me. If somebody, some girl in an awful-looking hat, for instance, comes all the way to New York-from Seattle, Washington, for God's sake-and ends up getting up early in the morning to see the goddam first show at Radio City Music Hall, it makes me so depressed I can't stand it. I'd've bought the whole three of them a hundred drinks if only they hadn't told me that.

I left the Lavender Room pretty soon after they did. They were closing it up anyway, and the band had quit a long time ago. In the first place, it was one of those places that are very terrible to be in unless you have somebody good to dance with, or unless the waiter lets you buy real drinks instead of just Cokes. There isn't any night club in the world you can sit in for a long time unless you can at least buy some liquor and get drunk. Or unless you're with some girl that really knocks you out.

11,

All of a sudden, on my way out to the lobby, I got old Jane Gallagher on the brain again. I got her on, and I couldn't get her off. I sat down in this vomity-looking chair in the lobby and thought about her and Stradlater sitting in that goddam Ed Banky's car, and though I was pretty damn sure old Stradlater hadn't given her the time-I know old Jane like a book-I still couldn't get her off my brain. I knew her like a book. I really did. I mean, besides checkers, she was quite fond of all athletic sports, and after I got to know her, the whole summer long we played tennis together almost every morning and golf almost every afternoon. I really got to know her quite intimately. I don't mean it was anything physical or anything-it wasn't-but we saw each other all the time. You don't always have to get too sexy to get to know a girl.

The way I met her, this Doberman pinscher she had used to come over and relieve himself on our lawn, and my mother got very irritated about it. She called up Jane's mother and made a big stink about it. My mother can make a very big stink about that kind of stuff. Then what happened, a couple of days later I saw Jane laying on her stomach next to the swimming pool, at the club, and I said hello to her. I knew she lived in the house next to ours, but I'd never conversed with her before or anything. She gave me the big freeze when I said hello that day, though. I had a helluva time convincing her that I didn't give a good goddam where her dog relieved himself. He could do it in the living room, for all I cared. Anyway, after that, Jane and I got to be friends and all. I played golf with her that same afternoon. She lost eight balls, I remember. Eight. I had a terrible time getting her to at least open her eyes when she took a swing at the ball. I improved her game immensely, though. I'm a very good golfer. If I told you what I go around in, you probably wouldn't believe me. I almost was once in a movie short, but I changed my mind at the last minute. I figured that anybody that hates the movies as much as I do, I'd be a phony if I let them stick me in a movie short.

She was a funny girl, old Jane. I wouldn't exactly describe her as strictly beautiful. She knocked me out, though. She was sort of muckle-mouthed. I mean when she was talking and she got excited about something, her mouth sort of went in about fifty directions, her lips and all. That killed me. And she never really closed it all the way, her mouth. It was always just a little bit open, especially when she got in her golf stance, or when she was reading a book. She was always reading, and she read very good books. She read a lot of poetry and all. She was the only one, outside my family, that I ever showed Allie's baseball mitt to, with all the poems written on it. She'd never met Allie or anything, because that was her first summer in Maine-before that, she went to Cape Cod-but I told her quite a lot about him. She was interested in that kind of stuff.

My mother didn't like her too much. I mean my mother always thought Jane and her mother were sort of snubbing her or something when they didn't say hello. My mother saw them in the village a lot, because Jane used to drive to market with her mother in this LaSalle convertible they had. My mother didn't think Jane was pretty, even. I did, though. I just liked the way she looked, that's all.

Anyway, that's what I was thinking about while I sat in that vomity-looking chair in the lobby. Old Jane. Every time I got to the part about her out with Stradlater in that damn Ed Banky's car, it almost drove me crazy. I knew she wouldn't let him get to first base with her, but it drove me crazy anyway. I don't even like to talk about it, if you want to know the truth.

There was hardly anybody in the lobby any more. Even all the whory-looking blondes weren't around any more, and all of a sudden I felt like getting the hell out of the place. It was too depressing. And I wasn't tired or anything. So I went up to my room and put on my coat. I also took a look out the window to see if all the perverts were still in action, but the lights and all were out now. I went down in the elevator again and got a cab and told the driver to take me down to Ernie's. Ernie's is this night club in Greenwich Village that my brother DB used to go to quite frequently before he went out to Hollywood and prostituted himself. He used to take me with him once in a while. Ernie's a big fat colored guy that plays the piano. He's a terrific snob and he won't hardly even talk to you unless you're a big shot or a celebrity or something, but he can really play the piano. He's so good he's almost corny, in fact. I don't exactly know what I mean by that, but I mean it. I certainly like to hear him play, but sometimes you feel like turning his goddam piano over. I think it's because sometimes when he plays, he sounds like the kind of guy that won't talk to you unless you're a big shot.

12,

The cab I had was a real old one that smelled like someone'd just tossed his cookies in it. I always get those vomity kind of cabs if I go anywhere late at night. What made it worse, it was so quiet and lonesome out, even though it was Saturday night. I didn't see hardly anybody on the street. Now and then you just saw a man and a girl crossing a street, with their arms around each other's waists and all, or a bunch of hoodlumy-looking guys and their dates, all of them laughing like hyenas at something you could bet wasn't funny. New York's terrible when somebody laughs on the street very late at night. You can hear it for miles. It makes you feel so lonesome and depressed. I kept wishing I could go home and shoot the bull for a while with old Phoebe. But finally, after I was riding a while, the cab driver and I sort of struck up a conversation. His name was Horwitz. He was a much better guy than the other driver I'd had. Anyway, I thought maybe he might know about the ducks.

“Hey, Horwitz,” I said. “You ever pass by the lagoon in Central Park? Down by Central Park South?”

“The what?”

“The lagoon. That little lake, like, there. Where the ducks are. You know. "

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, you know the ducks that swim around in it? In the springtime and all? Do you happen to know where they go in the wintertime, by any chance?”

“Where who goes?”
The trouble was, I just didn't want to do it. I felt more depressed than sexy, if you want to know the truth. She was depressing. Her green dress hanging in the closet and all. And besides, I don't think I could ever do it with somebody that sits in a stupid movie all day long. I really don't think I could.

She came over to me, with this funny look on her face, like as if she didn't believe me.

“What'sa matter?” she said. “Nothing's the matter.” Boy, was I getting nervous. “The thing is, I had an operation very recently.”

“Yeah? Where?”

“On my wuddayacallit-my clavichord.”

“Yeah? Where the hell's that?”

“The clavichord?” I said. “Well, actually, it's in the spinal canal. I mean it's quite a ways down in the spinal canal.”

“Yeah?” she said. “That's tough.” Then she sat down on my goddam lap. “You're cute.”

She made me so nervous, I just kept on lying my head off.

“I'm still recuperating,” I told her.

“You look like a guy in the movies. You know. Whosis. You know who I mean. What the heck's his name?”

“I don't know,” I said. She wouldn't get off my goddam lap.

“Sure you know. He was in that pitcher with Mel-vine Douglas? The one that was Mel-vine Douglas's kid brother? That falls off this boat? You know who I mean.”

“No, I don't. I go to the movies as seldom as I can.”

Then she started getting funny. Crude and all.

“Do you mind cutting it out?” I said. “I'm not in the mood, I just told you. I just had an operation.”

She didn't get up from my lap or anything, but she gave me this terrifically dirty look.

“Listen,” she said. “I was sleepin' when that crazy Maurice woke me up. If you think I'm-”

“I said I'd pay you for coming and all. I really will. I have plenty of dough. It's just that I'm practically just recovering from a very serious-”

“What the heck did you tell that crazy Maurice you wanted a girl for, then? If you just had a goddam operation on your goddam wuddayacallit. Huh?”

“I thought I'd be feeling a lot better than I do. I was a little premature in my calculations. No kidding. I'm sorry. If you'll just get up a second, I'll get my wallet. I mean it.”

She was sore as hell, but she got up off my goddam lap so that I could go over and get my wallet off the chiffonier. I took out a five-dollar bill and handed it to her.

“Thanks a lot,” I told her. “Thanks a million.”

“This is a five. It costs ten.”

She was getting funny, you could tell. I was afraid something like that would happen-I really was.

“Maurice said five,” I told her. “He said fifteen till noon and only five for a throw.”

“Ten for a throw.”

“He said five. I'm sorry-I really am-but that's all I'm gonna shell out.”

Grand. If there's one word I hate, it's grand. It's so phony. For a second, I was tempted to tell her to forget about the matinee. But we chewed the fat for a while. That is, she chewed it. You couldn't get a word in edgewise. First she told me about some Harvard guy- it probably was a freshman, but she didn't say, naturally-that was rushing hell out of her. Calling her up night and day. Night and day-that killed me. Then she told me about some other guy, some West Point cadet, that was cutting his throat over her too. Big deal. I told her to meet me under the clock at the Biltmore at two o'clock, and not to be late, because the show probably started at two-thirty. She was always late. Then I hung up. She gave me a pain in the ass, but she was very good-looking.

After I made the date with old Sally, I got out of bed and got dressed and packed my bag. I took a look out the window before I left the room, though, to see how all the perverts were doing, but they all had their shades down. They were the heighth of modesty in the morning. Then I went down in the elevator and checked out. I didn't see old Maurice around anywhere. I didn't break my neck looking for him, naturally, the bastard.

I got a cab outside the hotel, but I didn't have the faintest damn idea where I was going. I had no place to go. It was only Sunday, and I couldn't go home till Wednesday-or Tuesday the soonest. And I certainly didn't feel like going to another hotel and getting my brains beat out. So what I did, I told the driver to take me to Grand Central Station. It was right near the Biltmore, where I was meeting Sally later, and I figured what I'd do, I'd check my bags in one of those strong boxes that they give you a key to, then get some breakfast. I was sort of hungry. While I was in the cab, I took out my wallet and sort of counted my money. I don't remember exactly what I had left, but it was no fortune or anything. I'd spent a king's ransom in about two lousy weeks. I really had. I'm a goddam spendthrift at heart. What I don't spend, I lose. Half the time I sort of even forget to pick up my change, at restaurants and night clubs and all. It drives my parents crazy. You can't blame them. My father's quite wealthy, though. I don't know how much he makes-he's never discussed that stuff with me-but I imagine quite a lot. He's a corporation lawyer. Those boys really haul it in. Another reason I know he's quite well off, he's always investing money in shows on Broadway. They always flop, though, and it drives my mother crazy when he does it. She hasn't felt too healthy since my brother Allie died. She's very nervous. That's another reason why I hated like hell for her to know I got the ax again.

After I put my bags in one of those strong boxes at the station, I went into this little sandwich bar and bad breakfast. I had quite a large breakfast, for me-orange juice, bacon and eggs, toast and coffee. Usually I just drink some orange juice. I'm a very light eater. I really am. That's why I'm so damn skinny. I was supposed to be on this diet where you eat a lot of starches and crap, to gain weight and all, but I didn't ever do it. When I'm out somewhere, I generally just eat a Swiss cheese sandwich and a malted milk. It isn't much, but you get quite a lot of vitamins in the malted milk. HV Caulfield. Holden Vitamin Caulfield.

I said I'd enjoyed talking to them a lot, too. I meant it, too. I'd have enjoyed it even more though, I think, if I hadn't been sort of afraid, the whole time I was talking to them, that they'd all of a sudden try to find out if I was a Catholic. Catholics are always trying to find out if you're a Catholic. It happens to me a lot, I know, partly because my last name is Irish, and most people of Irish descent are Catholics. As a matter of fact, my father was a Catholic once. He quit, though, when he married my mother. But Catholics are always trying to find out if you're a Catholic even if they don't know your last name. I knew this one Catholic boy, Louis Shaney, when I was at the Whooton School. He was the first boy I ever met there. He and I were sitting in the first two chairs outside the goddam infirmary, the day school opened, waiting for our physicals, and we sort of struck up this conversation about tennis. He was quite interested in tennis, and so was I. He told me he went to the Nationals at Forest Hills every summer, and I told him I did too, and then we talked about certain hot-shot tennis players for quite a while. He knew quite a lot about tennis, for a kid his age. He really did. Then, after a while, right in the middle of the goddam conversation, he asked me, “Did you happen to notice where the Catholic church is in town, by any chance?” The thing was, you could tell by the way he asked me that he was trying to find out if I was a Catholic. He really was. Not that he was prejudiced or anything, but he just wanted to know. He was enjoying the conversation about tennis and all, but you could tell he would've enjoyed it more if I was a Catholic and all. That kind of stuff drives me crazy. I'm not saying it ruined our conversation or anything-it didn't-but it sure as hell didn't do it any good. That's why I was glad those two nuns didn't ask me if I was a Catholic. It wouldn't have spoiled the conversation if they had, but it would've been different, probably. I'm not saying I blame Catholics. I don't. I'd be the same way, probably, if I was a Catholic. It's just like those suitcases I was telling you about, in a way. All I'm saying is that it's no good for a nice conversation. That's all I'm saying.

When they got up to go, the two nuns, I did something very stupid and embarrassing. I was smoking a cigarette, and when I stood up to say good-by to them, by mistake I blew some smoke in their face. I didn't mean to, but I did it. I apologized like a madman, and they were very polite and nice about it, but it was very embarrassing anyway.

After they left, I started getting sorry that I'd only given them ten bucks for their collection. But the thing was, I'd made that date to go to a matinee with old Sally Hayes, and I needed to keep some dough for the tickets and stuff. I was sorry anyway, though. Goddam money. It always ends up making you blue as hell.

16th

Broadway was mobbed and messy. It was Sunday, and only about twelve o'clock, but it was mobbed anyway. Everybody was on their way to the movies-the Paramount or the Astor or the Strand or the Capitol or one of those crazy places. Everybody was all dressed up, because it was Sunday, and that made it worse. But the worst part was that you could tell they all wanted to go to the movies. I couldn't stand looking at them. I can understand somebody going to the movies because there's nothing else to do, but when somebody really wants to go, and even walks fast so as to get there quicker, then it depresses hell out of me. Especially if I see millions of people standing in one of those long, terrible lines, all the way down the block, waiting with this terrific patience for seats and all. Boy, I couldn't get off that goddam Broadway fast enough.

I was lucky. The first record store I went into had a copy of “Little Shirley Beans.” They charged me five bucks for it, because it was so hard to get, but I didn't care. Boy, it made me so happy all of a sudden. I could hardly wait to get to the park to see if old Phoebe was around so that I could give it to her.

When I came out of the record store, I passed this drugstore, and I went in. I figured maybe I'd give old Jane a buzz and see if she was home for vacation yet. So I went in a phone booth and called her up. The only trouble was, her mother answered the phone, so I had to hang up. I didn't feel like getting involved in a long conversation and all with her. I'm not crazy about talking to girls' mothers on the phone anyway. I should've at least asked her if Jane was home yet, though. It wouldn't have killed me. But I didn't feel like it. You really have to be in the mood for that stuff.

I still had to get those damn theater tickets, so I bought a paper and looked up to see what shows were playing. On account of it was Sunday, there were only about three shows playing. So what I did was, I went over and bought two orchestra seats for I Know My Love. It was a benefit performance or something. I didn't much want to see it, but I knew old Sally, the queen of the phonies, would start drooling all over the place when I told her I had tickets for that, because the Lunts were in it and all. She liked shows that are supposed to be very sophisticated and dry and all, with the Lunts and all. I don't. I don't like any shows very much, if you want to know the truth. They're not as bad as movies, but they're certainly nothing to rave about. In the first place, I hate actors. They never act like people. They just think they do. Some of the good ones do, in a very slight way, but not in a way that's fun to watch. And if any actor's really good, you can always tell he knows he's good, and that spoils it. You take Sir Laurence Olivier, for example. I saw him in Hamlet. DB took Phoebe and I to see it last year. He treated us to lunch first, and then he took us. He'd already seen it, and the way he talked about it at lunch, I was anxious as hell to see it, too. But I didn't enjoy it much. I just don't see what's so marvelous about Sir Laurence Olivier, that's all. He has a terrific voice, and he's a helluva handsome guy, and he's very nice to watch when he's walking or dueling or something, but he wasn't at all the way DB said Hamlet was. He was too much like a goddam general, instead of a sad, screwed-up type guy. The best part in the whole picture was when old Ophelia's brother-the one that gets in the duel with Hamlet at the very end-was going away and his father was giving him a lot of advice. While the father kept giving him a lot of advice, old Ophelia was sort of horsing around with her brother, taking his dagger out of the holster, and teasing him and all while he was trying to look interested in the bull his father was shooting. That was nice. I got a big bang out of that. But you don't see that kind of stuff much. The only thing old Phoebe liked was when Hamlet patted this dog on the head. She thought that was funny and nice, and it was. What I'll have to do is, I'll have to read that play. The trouble with me is, I always have to read that stuff by myself. If an actor acts it out, I hardly listen. I keep worrying about whether he's going to do something phony every minute.

After I got the tickets to the Lunts' show, I took a cab up to the park. I should've taken a subway or something, because I was getting slightly low on dough, but I wanted to get off that damn Broadway as fast as I could.

It was lousy in the park. It wasn't too cold, but the sun still wasn't out, and there didn't look like there was anything in the park except dog crap and globs of spit and cigar butts from old men, and the benches all looked like they'd be wet if you sat down on them. It made you depressed, and every once in a while, for no reason, you got goose flesh while you walked. It didn't seem at all like Christmas was coming soon. It didn't seem like anything was coming. But I kept walking over to the Mall anyway, because that's where Phoebe usually goes when she's in the park. She likes to skate near the bandstand. It's funny. That's the same place I used to like to skate when I was a kid.

When I got there, though, I didn't see her around anywhere. There were a few kids around, skating and all, and two boys were playing Flys Up with a soft ball, but no Phoebe. I saw one kid about her age, though, sitting on a bench all by herself, tightening her skate. I thought maybe she might know Phoebe and could tell me where she was or something, so I went over and sat down next to her and asked her, “Do you know Phoebe Caulfield, by any chance?”

Even though it was Sunday and Phoebe wouldn't be there with her class or anything, and even though it was so damp and lousy out, I walked all the way through the park over to the Museum of Natural History. I knew that was the museum the kid with the skate key meant. I knew that whole museum routine like a book. Phoebe went to the same school I went to when I was a kid, and we used to go there all the time. We had this teacher, Miss Aigletinger, that took us there damn near every Saturday. Sometimes we looked at the animals and sometimes we looked at the stuff the Indians had made in ancient times. Pottery and straw baskets and all stuff like that. I get very happy when I think about it. Even now. I remember after we looked at all the Indian stuff, usually we went to see some movie in this big auditorium. Columbus. They were always showing Columbus discovering America, having one helluva time getting old Ferdinand and Isabella to lend him the dough to buy ships with, and then the sailors mutinying on him and all. Nobody gave too much of a damn about old Columbus, but you always had a lot of candy and gum and stuff with you, and the inside of that auditorium had such a nice smell. It always smelled like it was raining outside, even if it wasn't, and you were in the only nice, dry, cosy place in the world. I loved that damn museum. I remember you had to go through the Indian Room to get to the auditorium. It was a long, long room, and you were only supposed to whisper. The teacher would go first, then the class. You'd be two rows of kids, and you'd have a partner. Most of the time my partner was this girl named Gertrude Levine. She always wanted to hold your hand, and her hand was always sticky or sweaty or something. The floor was all stone, and if you had some marbles in your hand and you dropped them, they bounced like madmen all over the floor and made a helluva racket, and the teacher would hold up the class and go back and see what the hell was going on. She never got sore, though, Miss Aigletinger. Then you'd pass by this long, long Indian war canoe, about as long as three goddam Cadillacs in a row, with about twenty Indians in it, some of them paddling, some of them just standing around looking tough, and they all had war paint all over their faces. There was one very spooky guy in the back of the canoe, with a mask on. He was the witch doctor. He gave me the creeps, but I liked him anyway. Another thing, if you touched one of the paddles or anything while you were passing, one of the guards would say to you, “Don't touch anything, children,” but he always said it in a nice voice, not like a goddam cop or anything. Then you'd pass by this big glass case, with Indians inside it rubbing sticks together to make a fire, and a squaw weaving a blanket. The squaw that was weaving the blanket was sort of bending over, and you could see her bosom and all. We all used to sneak a good look at it, even the girls, because they were only little kids and they didn't have any more bosom than we did. Then, just before you went inside the auditorium, right near the doors, you passed this Eskimo. He was sitting over a hole in this icy lake, and he was fishing through it. He had about two fish right next to the hole, that he'd already caught. Boy, that museum was full of glass cases. There were even more upstairs, with deer inside them drinking at water holes, and birds flying south for the winter. The birds nearest you were all stuffed and hung up on wires, and the ones in back were just painted on the wall, but they all looked like they were really flying south, and if you bent your head down and sort of looked at them upside down, they looked in an even bigger hurry to fly south. The best thing, though, in that museum was that everything always stayed right where it was. Nobody'd move. You could go there a hundred thousand times, and that Eskimo would still be just finished catching those two fish, the birds would still be on their way south, the deers would still be drinking out of that water hole, with their pretty antlers and their pretty, skinny legs, and that squaw with the naked bosom would still be weaving that same blanket. Nobody'd be different. The only thing that would be different would be you. Not that you'd be so much older or anything. It wouldn't be that, exactly. You'd just be different, that's all. You'd have an overcoat on this time. Or the kid that was your partner in line the last time had got scarlet fever and you'd have a new partner. Or you'd have a substitute taking the class, instead of Miss Aigletinger. Or you'd heard your mother and father having a terrific fight in the bathroom. Or you'd just passed by one of those puddles in the street with gasoline rainbows in them. I mean you'd be different in some way-I can't explain what I mean. And even if I could, I'm not sure I'd feel like it.

I took my old hunting hat out of my pocket while I walked, and put it on. I knew I wouldn't meet anybody that knew me, and it was pretty damp out. I kept walking and walking, and I kept thinking about old Phoebe going to that museum on Saturdays the way I used to. I thought how she'd see the same stuff I used to see, and how she'd be different every time she saw it. It didn't exactly depress me to think about it, but it didn't make me feel gay as hell, either. Certain things they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone. I know that's impossible, but it's too bad anyway. Anyway, I kept thinking about all that while I walked.

I passed by this playground and stopped and watched a couple of very tiny kids on a seesaw. One of them was sort of fat, and I put my hand on the skinny kid's end, to sort of even up the weight, but you could tell they didn't want me around, so I let them alone.

Then a funny thing happened. When I got to the museum, all of a sudden I wouldn't have gone inside for a million bucks. It just didn't appeal to me-and here I'd walked through the whole goddam park and looked forward to it and all. If Phoebe'd been there, I probably would have, but she wasn't. So all I did, in front of the museum, was get a cab and go down to the Biltmore. I didn't feel much like going. I'd made that damn date with Sally, though.

17th

She got sore when I said that. Finally, though, the jerk noticed her and came over and said hello. You should've seen the way they said hello. You'd have thought they hadn't seen each other in twenty years. You'd have thought they'd taken baths in the same bathtub or something when they were little kids. Old buddyroos. It was nauseating. The funny part was, they probably met each other just once, at some phony party. Finally, when they were all done slobbering around, old Sally introduced us. His name was George something-I don't even remember-and he went to Andover. Big, big deal. You should've seen him when old Sally asked him how he liked the play. He was the kind of a phony that have to give themselves room when they answer somebody's question. He stepped back, and stepped right on the lady's foot behind him. He probably broke every toe in her body. He said the play itself was no masterpiece, but that the Lunts, of course, were absolute angels. Angels. For Chrissake. Angels. That killed me.

Then he and old Sally started talking about a lot of people they both knew. It was the phoniest conversation you ever heard in your life. They both kept thinking of places as fast as they could, then they'd think of somebody that lived there and mention their name. I was all set to puke when it was time to go sit down again. I really was. And then, when the next act was over, they continued their goddam boring conversation. They kept thinking of more places and more names of people that lived there. The worst part was, the jerk had one of those very phony, Ivy League voices, one of those very tired, snobby voices. He sounded just like a girl. He didn't hesitate to horn in on my date, the bastard. I even thought for a minute that he was going to get in the goddam cab with us when the show was over, because he walked about two blocks with us, but he had to meet a bunch of phonies for cocktails, he said. I could see them all sitting around in some bar, with their goddam checkered vests, criticizing shows and books and women in those tired, snobby voices. They kill me, those guys.

I sort of hated old Sally by the time we got in the cab, after listening to that phony Andover bastard for about ten hours. I was all set to take her home and all-I really was-but she said, “I have a marvelous idea!”

She was always having a marvelous idea.

“Listen,” she said. “What time do you have to be home for dinner? I mean are you in a terrible hurry or anything? Do you have to be home any special time?”

“Me? No. No special time,” I said. Truer word was never spoken, boy. “Why?”

“Let's go ice-skating at Radio City!”

That's the kind of ideas she always had.

“Ice-skating at Radio City? You mean right now?”

“Just for an hour or so. Don't you want to? If you don't want to-”

“I didn't say I didn't want to,” I said.

"Sure. If you want to.”

“I agree! I agree they do, some of them! But that's all I get out of it. See? That's my point. That's exactly my goddam point,” I said. “I don't get hardly anything out of anything. I'm in bad shape. I'm in lousy shape.”

“You certainly are.”

Then, all of a sudden, I got this idea.

“Look,” I said. “Here's my idea. How would you like to get the hell out of here? Here's my idea. I know this guy down in Greenwich Village that we can borrow his car for a couple of weeks. He used to go to the same school I did and he still owes me ten bucks. What we could do is, tomorrow morning we could drive up to Massachusetts and Vermont, and all around there, see. It's beautiful as hell up there, It really is.” I was getting excited as hell, the more I thought of it, and I sort of reached over and took old Sally's goddam hand. What a goddam fool I was. “No kidding,” I said. “I have about a hundred and eighty bucks in the bank. I can take it out when it opens in the morning, and then I could go down and get this guy's car. No kidding. We'll stay in these cabin camps and stuff like that till the dough runs out. Then, when the dough runs out, I could get a job somewhere and we could live somewhere with a brook and all and, later on, we could get married or something. I could chop all our own wood in the wintertime and all. Honest to God, we could have a terrific time! Wuddaya say? C'mon! Wuddaya say? Will you do it with me? Please!”

“You can't just do something like that,” old Sally said. She sounded sore as hell.

“Why not? Why the hell not?”

“Stop screaming at me, please,” she said. Which was crap, because I wasn't even screaming at her.

“Why can'tcha? Why not?”

“Because you can't, that's all. In the first place, we're both practically children. And did you ever stop to think what you'd do if you didn't get a job when your money ran out? We'd starve to death. The whole thing's so fantastic, it isn't even-”

“It isn't fantastic. I'd get a job. Don't worry about that. You don't have to worry about that. What's the matter? Don't you want to go with me? Say so, if you don't.”

“It isn't that. It isn't that at all,” old Sally said. I was beginning to hate her, in a way. “We'll have oodles of time to do those things-all those things. I mean after you go to college and all, and if we should get married and all. There'll be oodles of marvelous places to go to. You're just-”

“No, there wouldn't be. There wouldn't be oodles of places to go to at all. It'd be entirely different,” I said. I was getting depressed as hell again.

“What?” she said. “I can't hear you. One minute you scream at me, and the next you-”

“I said no, there wouldn't be marvelous places to go to after I went to college and all. Open your ears. It'd be entirely different. We'd have to go downstairs in elevators with suitcases and stuff. We'd have to phone up everybody and tell 'em good-by and send 'em postcards from hotels and all. And I'd be working in some office, making a lot of dough, and riding to work in cabs and Madison Avenue buses, and reading newspapers, and playing bridge all the time, and going to the movies and seeing a lot of stupid shorts and coming attractions and newsreels. Newsreels. Christ almighty. There's always a dumb horse race, and some dame breaking a bottle over a ship, and some chimpanzee riding a goddam bicycle with pants on. It wouldn't be the same at all. You don't see what I mean at all.”

“Maybe I don't! Maybe you don't, either,” old Sally said. We both hated each other's guts by that time. You could see there wasn't any sense trying to have an intelligent conversation. I was sorry as hell I'd started it.

“C'mon, let's get outa here,” I said. “You give me a royal pain in the ass, if you want to know the truth.”

Boy, did she hit the ceiling when I said that. I know I shouldn't've said it, and I probably wouldn't've ordinarily, but she was depressing the hell out of me. Usually I never say crude things like that to girls. Boy, did she hit the ceiling. I apologized like a madman, but she wouldn't accept my apology. She was even crying. Which scared me a little bit, because I was a little afraid she'd go home and tell her father I called her a pain in the ass. Her father was one of those big silent bastards, and he wasn't too crazy about me anyhow. He once told old Sally I was too goddam noisy.

“No kidding. I'm sorry,” I kept telling her.

“You're sorry. You're sorry. That's very funny,” she said. She was still sort of crying, and all of a sudden I did feel sort of sorry I'd said it.

“C'mon, I'll take ya home. No kidding.”

“I can go home by myself, thank you. If you think I'd let you take me home, you're mad. No boy ever said that to me in my entire life.”

The whole thing was sort of funny, in a way, if you thought about it, and all of a sudden I did something I shouldn't have. I laughed. And I have one of these very loud, stupid laughs. I mean if I ever sat behind myself in a movie or something, I'd probably lean over and tell myself to please shut up. It made old Sally madder than ever.

I stuck around for a while, apologizing and trying to get her to excuse me, but she wouldn't. She kept telling me to go away and leave her alone. So finally I did it. I went inside and got my shoes and stuff, and left without her. I shouldn't've, but I was pretty goddam fed up by that time.

If you want to know the truth, I don't even know why I started all that stuff with her. I mean about going away somewhere, to Massachusetts and Vermont and all. I probably wouldn't've taken her even if she'd wanted to go with me. She wouldn't have been anybody to go with. The terrible part, though, is that I meant it when I asked her. That's the terrible part. I swear to God I'm a madman.

18th

After the movie was over, I started walking down to the Wicker Bar, where I was supposed to meet old Carl Luce, and while I walked I sort of thought about war and all. Those war movies always do that to me. I don't think I could stand it if I had to go to war. I really couldn't. It wouldn't be too bad if they'd just take you out and shoot you or something, but you have to stay in the Army so goddam long. That's the whole trouble. My brother DB was in the Army for four goddam years. He was in the war, too-he landed on D-Day and all-but I really think he hated the Army worse than the war. I was practically a child at the time, but I remember when he used to come home on furlough and all, all he did was lie on his bed, practically. He hardly ever even came in the living room. Later, when he went overseas and was in the war and all, he didn't get wounded or anything and he didn't have to shoot anybody. All he had to do was drive some cowboy general around all day in a command car. He once told Allie and I that if he'd had to shoot anybody, he wouldn't've known which direction to shoot in. He said the Army was practically as full of bastards as the Nazis were. I remember Allie once asked him wasn't it sort of good that he was in the war because he was a writer and it gave him a lot to write about and all. He made Allie go get his baseball mitt and then he asked him who was the best war poet, Rupert Brooke or Emily Dickinson. Allie said Emily Dickinson. I don't know too much about it myself, because I don't read much poetry, but I do know it'd drive me crazy if I had to be in the Army and be with a bunch of guys like Ackley and Stradlater and old Maurice all the time, marching with them and all. I was in the Boy Scouts once, for about a week, and I couldn't even stand looking at the back of the guy's neck in front of me. They kept telling you to look at the back of the guy's neck in front of you. I swear if there's ever another war, they better just take me out and stick me in front of a firing squad. I wouldn't object. What gets me about DB, though, he hated the war so much, and yet he got me to read this book A Farewell to Arms last summer. He said it was so terrific. That's what I can't understand. It had this guy in it named Lieutenant Henry that was supposed to be a nice guy and all. I don't see how DB could hate the Army and war and all so much and still like a phony like that. I mean, for instance, I don't see how he could like a phony book like that and still like that one by Ring Lardner, or that other one he's so crazy about, The Great Gatsby . DB got sore when I said that, and said I was too young and all to appreciate it, but I don't think so. I told him I liked Ring Lardner and The Great Gatsby and all. I did, too. I was crazy about The Great Gatsby . Old Gatsby. Old sport. That killed me.

Anyway, I'm sort of glad they've got the atomic bomb invented. If there's ever another war, I'm going to sit right the hell on top of it. I'll volunteer for it, I swear to God I will.

19

In case you don't live in New York, the Wicker Bar is in this sort of swanky hotel, the Seton Hotel. I used to go there quite a lot, but I don't any more. I gradually cut it out. It's one of those places that are supposed to be very sophisticated and all, and the phonies are coming in the window. They used to have these two French babes, Tina and Janine, come out and play the piano and sing about three times every night. One of them played the piano-strictly lousy-and the other one sang, and most of the songs were either pretty dirty or in French. The one that sang, old Janine, was always whispering into the goddam microphone before she sang. She'd say, “And now we like to geeve you our impression of Vooly Voo Fransay. Eet ees the story of a leetle Fransh girl who comes to a beeg ceety, just like New York, and falls een love wees a leetle boy from Brookleen. We hope you like eet.” Then, when she was all done whispering and being cute as hell, she'd sing some dopey song, half in English and half in French, and drive all the phonies in the place mad with joy. If you sat around there long enough and heard all the phonies applauding and all, you got to hate everybody in the world, I swear you did. The bartender was a louse, too. He was a big snob. He didn't talk to you at all hardly unless you were a big shot or a celebrity or something. If you were a big shot or a celebrity or something, then he was even more nauseating. He'd go up to you and say, with this big charming smile, like he was a helluva swell guy if you knew him, “Well! How's Connecticut?” or “How's Florida?” It was a terrible place, I'm not kidding. I cut out going there entirely, gradually.

It was pretty early when I got there. I sat down at the bar-it was pretty crowded-and had a couple of Scotch and sodas before old Luce even showed up. I stood up when I ordered them so they could see how tall I was and all and not think I was a goddam minor. Then I watched the phonies for a while. Some guy next to me was snowing hell out of the babe he was with. He kept telling her she had aristocratic hands. That killed me. The other end of the bar was full of flits. They weren't too flitty-looking-I mean they didn't have their hair too long or anything-but you could tell they were flits anyway. Finally old Luce showed up.

Old Luce. What a guy. He was supposed to be my Student Adviser when I was at Whooton. The only thing he ever did, though, was give these sex talks and all, late at night when there was a bunch of guys in his room. He knew quite a bit about sex, especially perverts and all. He was always telling us about a lot of creepy guys that go around having affairs with sheep, and guys that go around with girls' pants sewed in the lining of their hats and all. And flits and Lesbians. Old Luce knew who every flit and Lesbian in the United States was. All you had to do was mention somebody-anybody-and old Luce'd tell you if he was a flit or not. Sometimes it was hard to believe, the people he said were flits and Lesbians and all, movie actors and like that. Some of the ones he said were flits were even married, for God's sake. You'd keep saying to him, “You mean Joe Blow's a flit? Joe Blow? That big, tough guy that plays gangsters and cowboys all the time?” Old Luce'd say, “Certainly.” He was always saying “Certainly.” He said it didn't matter if a guy was married or not. He said half the married guys in the world were flits and didn't even know it. He said you could turn into one practically overnight, if you had all the traits and all. He used to scare the hell out of us. I kept waiting to turn into a flit or something. The funny thing about old Luce, I used to think he was sort of flitty himself, in a way. He was always saying, “Try this for size,” and then he'd goose the hell out of you while you were going down the corridor. And whenever he went to the can, he always left the goddam door open and talked to you while you were brushing your teeth or something. That stuff's sort of flitty. It really is. I've known quite a few real flits, at schools and all, and they're always doing stuff like that, and that's why I always had my doubts about old Luce. He was a pretty intelligent guy, though. He really was.

He never said hello or anything when he met you. The first thing he said when he sat down was that he could only stay a couple of minutes. He said he had a date. Then he ordered a dry Martini. He told the bartender to make it very dry, and no olive.

“In her late thirties? Yeah? You like that?” I asked him. “You like 'em that old?” The reason I was asking was because he really knew quite a bit about sex and all. He was one of the few guys I knew that did. He lost his virginity when he was only fourteen, in Nantucket. He really did.

“I like a mature person, if that's what you mean. Certainly.”

“You do? Why? No kidding, they better for sex and all?”

“Listen. Let's get one thing straight. I refuse to answer any typical Caulfield questions tonight. When in hell are you going to grow up?”

I didn't say anything for a while. I let it drop for a while. Then old Luce ordered another Martini and told the bartender to make it a lot dryer.

“Listen. How long you been going around with her, this sculpture babe?” I asked him. I was really interested. “Did you know her when you were at Whooton?”

“Hardly. She just arrived in this country a few months ago.”

“She did? Where's she from?”

“She happens to be from Shanghai.”

“No kidding! She Chinese, for Chrissake?”

“Obviously.”

“No kidding! Do you like that? Her being Chinese?”

“Obviously.”

"Why? I'd be interested to know-I really would.”

“I simply happen to find Eastern philosophy more satisfactory than Western. Since you ask.”

“You do? Wuddaya mean 'philosophy'? Ya mean sex and all? You mean it's better in China? That what you mean?”

“Not necessarily in China, for God's sake. The East I said. Must we go on with this inane conversation?”

“Listen, I'm serious,” I said. “No kidding. Why's it better in the East?”

“It's too involved to go into, for God's sake,” old Luce said. “They simply happen to regard sex as both a physical and a spiritual experience. If you think I'm-”

“So do I! So do I regard it as a wuddayacallit-a physical and spiritual experience and all. I really do. But it depends on who the hell I'm doing it with. If I'm doing it with somebody I don't even-”

“Not so loud, for God's sake, Caulfield. If you can't manage to keep your voice down, let's drop the whole-”

“All right, but listen,” I said. I was getting excited and I was talking a little too loud. Sometimes I talk a little loud when I get excited. “This is what I mean, though,” I said. “I know it's supposed to be physical and spiritual, and artistic and all. But what I mean is, you can't do it with everybody-every girl you neck with and all-and make it come out that way. Can you?”

“Let's drop it,” old Luce said. “Do you mind?”

“All right, but listen. Take you and this Chinese babe. What's so good about you two?”

“Drop it, I said.”

I was getting a little too personal. I realize that. But that was one of the annoying things about Luce. When we were at Whooton, he'd make you describe the most personal stuff that happened to you, but if you started asking him questions about himself, he got sore. These intellectual guys don't like to have an intellectual conversation with you unless they're running the whole thing. They always want you to shut up when they shut up, and go back to your room when they go back to their room. When I was at Whooton old Luce used to hate it-you really could tell he did-when after he was finished giving his sex talk to a bunch of us in his room we stuck around and chewed the fat by ourselves for a while. I mean the other guys and myself. In somebody else's room. Old Luce hated that. He always wanted everybody to go back to their own room and shut up when he was finished being the big shot. The thing he was afraid of, he was afraid somebody'd say something smarter than he had. He really amused me.

“Maybe I'll go to China. My sex life is lousy,” I said.

“Naturally. Your mind is immature.”

"It is. It really is. I know it,” I said. “You know what the trouble with me is? I can never get really sexy-I mean really sexy-with a girl I don't like a lot. I mean I have to like her a lot. If I don't, I sort of lose my goddam desire for her and all. Boy, it really screws up my sex life something awful. My sex life stinks.”

“Naturally it does, for God's sake. I told you the last time I saw you what you need.”

“You mean to go to a psychoanalyst and all?” I said. That's what he'd told me I ought to do. His father was a psychoanalyst and all.

“It's up to you, for God's sake. It's none of my goddam business what you do with your life.”

I didn't say anything for a while. I was thinking.

“Supposing I went to your father and had him psychoanalyze me and all,” I said. “What would he do to me? I mean what would he do to me?”

“He wouldn't do a goddam thing to you. He'd simply talk to you, and you'd talk to him, for God's sake. For one thing, he'd help you to recognize the patterns of your mind.”

“The what?”

“The patterns of your mind. Your mind runs in- Listen. I'm not giving an elementary course in psychoanalysis. If you're interested, call him up and make an appointment. If you're not, don't. I couldn't care less, frankly.”

I put my hand on his shoulder. Boy, he amused me.

“You're a real friendly bastard,” I told him. “You know that?”

He was looking at his wrist watch.

“I have to tear,” he said, and stood up. “Nice seeing you.” He got the bartender and told him to bring him his check.

“Hey,” I said, just before he beat it. “Did your father ever psychoanalyze you?”

“Me? Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Did he, though? Has he?”

“Not exactly. He's helped me to adjust myself to a certain extent, but an extensive analysis hasn't been necessary. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I was just wondering.”

“Well. Take it easy,” he said. He was leaving his tip and all and he was starting to go.

“Have just one more drink,” I told him. “Please. I'm lonesome as hell. No kidding.”

He said he couldn't do it, though. He said he was late now, and then he left.

Old Luce. He was strictly a pain in the ass, but he certainly had a good vocabulary. He had the largest vocabulary of any boy at Whooton when I was there. They gave us a test.

20th

I kept sitting there getting drunk and waiting for old Tina and Janine to come out and do their stuff, but they weren't there. A flitty-looking guy with wavy hair came out and played the piano, and then this new babe, Valencia, came out and sang. She wasn't any good, but she was better than old Tina and Janine, and at least she sang good songs. The piano was right next to the bar where I was sitting and all, and old Valencia was standing practically right next to me. I sort of gave her the old eye, but she pretended she didn't even see me. I probably wouldn't have done it, but I was getting drunk as hell. When she was finished, she beat it out of the room so fast I didn't even get a chance to invite her to join me for a drink, so I called the headwaiter over. I told him to ask old Valencia if she'd care to join me for a drink. He said he would, but he probably didn't even give her my message. People never give your message to anybody.

Boy, I sat at that goddam bar till around one o'clock or so, getting drunk as a bastard. I could hardly see straight. The one thing I did, though, I was careful as hell not to get boisterous or anything. I didn't want anybody to notice me or anything or ask how old I was. But, boy, I could hardly see straight. When I was really drunk, I started that stupid business with the bullet in my guts again. I was the only guy at the bar with a bullet in their guts. I kept putting my hand under my jacket, on my stomach and all, to keep the blood from dripping all over the place. I didn't want anybody to know I was even wounded. I was concealing the fact that I was a wounded sonuvabitch. Finally what I felt like, I felt like giving old Jane a buzz and see if she was home yet. So I paid my check and all. Then I left the bar and went out where the telephones were. I kept keeping my hand under my jacket to keep the blood from dripping. Boy, was I drunk.

But when I got inside this phone booth, I wasn't much in the mood any more to give old Jane a buzz. I was too drunk, I guess. So what I did, I gave old Sally Hayes a buzz.

I had to dial about twenty numbers before I got the right one. Boy, was I blind.

“Hello,” I said when somebody answered the goddam phone. I sort of yelled it, I was so drunk.

“Who is this?” this very cold lady's voice said.

“This is me. Holden Caulfield. Lemme speaka Sally, please.”

“Sally's asleep. This is Sally's grandmother. Why are you calling at this hour, Holden? Do you know what time it is?”

"Yeah. Wanna talka Sally. Very important. Put her on.”

“Sally's asleep, young man. Call her tomorrow. Good night.”

“Wake 'er up! Wake 'er up, hey. Attaboy.”

Then there was a different voice.

“Holden, this is me.” It was old Sally. “What's the big idea?”

“Sally? That you?”

“Yes-stop screaming. Are you drunk?”

"Yeah. Listen. Listen, hey. I'll come over Christmas Eve. Okay? Trimma goddarn tree for ya. Okay? Okay, hey, Sally?”

“Yes. You're drunk. Go to bed now. Where are you? Who's with you?”

“Sally? I'll come over and trimma tree for ya, okay? Okay, hey?”

“Yes. Go to bed now. Where are you? Who's with you?”

“Nobody. Me, myself and I.” Boy was I drunk! I was even still holding onto my guts. “They got me. Rocky's mob got me. You know that? Sally, you know that?”

“I can't hear you. Go to bed now. I have to go. Call me tomorrow.” “Hey, Sally! You want me trimma tree for ya? Ya want me to? Huh?”

When the weather's nice, my parents go out quite frequently and stick a bunch of flowers on old Allie's grave. I went with them a couple of times, but I cut it out. In the first place, I certainly don't enjoy seeing him in that crazy cemetery. Surrounded by dead guys and tombstones and all. It wasn't too bad when the sun was out, but twice-twice-we were there when it started to rain. It was awful. It rained on his lousy tombstone, and it rained on the grass on his stomach. It rained all over the place. All the visitors that were visiting the cemetery started running like hell over to their cars. That's what nearly drove me crazy. All the visitors could get in their cars and turn on their radios and all and then go someplace nice for dinner-everybody except Allie. I couldn't stand it. I know it's only his body and all that's in the cemetery, and his soul's in Heaven and all that crap, but I couldn't stand it anyway. I just wish he wasn't there. You didn't know him. If you'd known him, you'd know what I mean. It's not too bad when the sun's out, but the sun only comes out when it feels like coming out.

After a while, just to get my mind off getting pneumonia and all, I took out my dough and tried to count it in the lousy light from the street lamp. All I had was three singles and five quarters and a nickel left-boy, I spent a fortune since I left Pencey. Then what I did, I went down near the lagoon and I sort of skipped the quarters and the nickel across it, where it wasn't frozen. I don't know why I did it, but I did it. I guess I thought it'd take my mind off getting pneumonia and dying. It didn't, though.

I started thinking how old Phoebe would feel if I got pneumonia and died. It was a childish way to think, but I couldn't stop myself. She'd feel pretty bad if something like that happened. She likes me a lot. I mean she's quite fond of me. She really is. Anyway, I couldn't get that off my mind, so finally what I figured I'd do, I figured I'd better sneak home and see her, in case I died and all. I had my door key with me and all, and I figured what I'd do, I'd sneak in the apartment, very quiet and all, and just sort of chew the fat with her for a while. The only thing that worried me was our front door. It creaks like a bastard. It's a pretty old apartment house, and the superintendent's a lazy bastard, and everything creaks and squeaks. I was afraid my parents might hear me sneaking in. But I decided I'd try it anyhow.

So I got the hell out of the park, and went home. I walked all the way. It wasn't too far, and I wasn't tired or even drunk any more. It was just very cold and nobody around anywhere.

21,

The best break I had in years, when I got home the regular night elevator boy, Pete, wasn't on the car. Some new guy I'd never seen was on the car, so I figured that if I didn't bump smack into my parents and all I'd be able to say hello to old Phoebe and then beat it and nobody'd even know I'd been around. It was really a terrific break. What made it even better, the new elevator boy was sort of on the stupid side. I told him, in this very casual voice, to take me up to the Dicksteins'. The Dicksteins were these people that had the other apartment on our floor. I'd already taken off my hunting hat, so as not to look suspicious or anything. I went in the elevator like I was in a terrific hurry.

He had the elevator doors all shut and all, and was all set to take me up, and then he turned around and said, “They ain't in. They're at a party on the fourteenth floor.”

“That's all right,” I said. “I'm supposed to wait for them. I'm their nephew.”

He gave me this sort of stupid, suspicious look.

“You better wait in the lobby, fella,” he said.

“I'd like to-I really would,” I said. “But I have a bad leg. I have to hold it in a certain position. I think I'd better sit down in the chair outside their door.”

He didn't know what the hell I was talking about, so all he said was “Oh” and took me up. Not bad, boy. It's funny. All you have to do is say something nobody understands and they'll do practically anything you want them to.

I got off at our floor-limping like a bastard-and started walking over toward the Dicksteins' side. Then, when I heard the elevator doors shut, I turned around and went over to our side. I was doing all right. I didn't even feel drunk anymore. Then I took out my door key and opened our door, quiet as hell. Then, very, very carefully and all, I went inside and closed the door. I really should've been a crook.

It was dark as hell in the foyer, naturally, and naturally I couldn't turn on any lights. I had to be careful not to bump into anything and make a racket. I certainly knew I was home, though. Our foyer has a funny smell that doesn't smell like anyplace else. I don't know what the hell it is. It isn't cauliflower and it isn't perfume-I don't know what the hell it is-but you always know you're home. I started to take off my coat and hang it up in the foyer closet, but that closet's full of hangers that rattle like madmen when you open the door, so I left it on. Then I started walking very, very slowly back toward old Phoebe's room. I knew the maid wouldn't hear me because she had only one eardrum. She had this brother that stuck a straw down her ear when she was a kid, she once told me. She was pretty deaf and all. But my parents, especially my mother, she has ears like a goddam bloodhound. So I took it very, very easy when I went past their door. I even held my breath, for God's sake. You can hit my father over the head with a chair and he won't wake up, but my mother, all you have to do to my mother is cough somewhere in Siberia and she'll hear you. She's nervous as hell. Half the time she's up all night smoking cigarettes.

Finally, after about an hour, I got to old Phoebe's room. She wasn't there, though. I forgot about that. I forgot she always sleeps in DB 's room when he's away in Hollywood or some place. She likes it because it's the biggest room in the house. Also because it has this big old madman desk in it that DB bought off some lady alcoholic in Philadelphia, and this big, gigantic bed that's about ten miles wide and ten miles long. I don't know where he bought that bed. Anyway, old Phoebe likes to sleep in DB 's room when he's away, and he lets her. You ought to see her doing her homework or something at that crazy desk. It's almost as big as the bed. You can hardly see her when she's doing her homework. That's the kind of stuff she likes, though. She doesn't like her own room because it's too little, she says. She says she likes to spread out. That kills me. What's old Phoebe got to spread out? Nothing.

Anyway, I went into DB 's room quiet as hell, and turned on the lamp on the desk. Old Phoebe didn't even wake up. When the light was on and all, I sort of looked at her for a while. She was laying there asleep, with her face sort of on the side of the pillow. She had her mouth way open. It's funny. You take adults, they look lousy when they're asleep and they have their mouths way open, but kids don't. Kids look all right. They can even have spit all over the pillow and they still look all right.

I went around the room, very quiet and all, looking at stuff for a while. I felt swell, for a change. I didn't even feel like I was getting pneumonia or anything any more. I just felt good, for a change. Old Phoebe's clothes were on this chair right next to the bed. She's very neat, for a child. I mean she doesn't just throw her stuff around, like some kids. She's no slob. She had the jacket to this tan suit my mother bought her in Canada hung up on the back of the chair. Then her blouse and stuff were on the seat. Her shoes and socks were on the floor, right underneath the chair, right next to each other. I never saw the shoes before. They were new. They were these dark brown loafers, sort of like this pair I have, and they went swell with that suit my mother bought her in Canada. My mother dresses her nice. She really does. My mother has terrific taste in some things. She's no good at buying ice skates or anything like that, but clothes, she's perfect. I mean Phoebe always has some dress on that can kill you. You take most little kids, even if their parents are wealthy and all, they usually have some terrible dress on. I wish you could see old Phoebe in that suit my mother bought her in Canada. I'm not kidding.

I sat down on old DB 's desk and looked at the stuff on it. It was mostly Phoebe's stuff, from school and all. Mostly books. The one on top was called Arithmetic Is Fun! I sort of opened the first page and took a look at it. This is what old Phoebe had on it:

PHOEBE WEATHERFIELD CAULFIELD

4B-1

That killed me. Her middle name is Josephine, for God's sake, not Weatherfield. She doesn't like it, though. Every time I see her she's got a new middle name for herself.

The book underneath the arithmetic was a geography, and the book under the geography was a speller. She's very good in spelling. She's very good in all her subjects, but she's best in spelling. Then, under the speller, there were a bunch of notebooks. She has about five thousand notebooks. You never saw a kid with so many notebooks. I opened the one on top and looked at the first page. It had on it:

Bernice meet me at recess I have something very very important to tell you.

That was all there was on that page. The next one had on it:

Why has south eastern Alaska so many caning factories?

Because theres so much salmon

Why has it valuable forests?

because it has the right climate.

What has our government done to make life easier for the alaskan eskimos?

look it up for tomorrow!!!

Phoebe Weatherfield Caulfield

Phoebe Weatherfield Caulfield

Phoebe Weatherfield Caulfield

Phoebe W. Caulfield

Phoebe Weatherfield Caulfield, Esq.

Please pass to Shirley!!!!

Shirley you said you were sagitarius but your only taurus bring your skates when you come over to my house

I sat there on DB 's desk and read the whole notebook. It didn't take me long, and I can read that kind of stuff, some kid's notebook, Phoebe's or anybody's, all day and all night long. Kid's notebooks kill me. Then I lit another cigarette-it was my last one. I must've smoked about three cartons that day. Then, finally, I woke her up. I mean I couldn't sit there on that desk for the rest of my life, and besides, I was afraid my parents might barge in on me all of a sudden and I wanted to at least say hello to her before they did. So I woke her up.

She wakes up very easily. I mean you don't have to yell at her or anything. All you have to do, practically, is sit down on the bed and say, “Wake up, Phoeb,” and bingo, she's awake.

“Holden!” she said right away. She put her arms around my neck and all. She's very affectionate. I mean she's quite affectionate, for a child. Sometimes she's even too affectionate. I sort of gave her a kiss, and she said, “Whenja get home?' She was glad as hell to see me. You could tell.

“How come you're not home Wednesday?” she asked me. “You didn't get kicked out or anything, did you?”

“I told you. They let us out early. They let the whole-”

“You did get kicked out! You did!” old Phoebe said. Then she hit me on the leg with her fist. She gets very fisty when she feels like it. “You did! Oh, Holden!” She had her hand on her mouth and all. She gets very emotional, I swear to God.

“Who said I got kicked out? Nobody said I-”

“You did. You did,” she said. Then she smacked me again with her fist. If you don't think that hurts, you're crazy. “Daddy'll kill you!” she said. Then she flopped on her stomach on the bed and put the goddam pillow over her head. She does that quite frequently. She's a true madman sometimes.

“Cut it out, now,” I said. “Nobody's gonna kill me. Nobody's gonna even-C'mon, Phoeb, take that goddam thing off your head. Nobody's gonna kill me.”

She wouldn't take it off, though. You can't make her do something if she doesn't want to. All she kept saying was, “Daddy s gonna kill you.” You could hardly understand her with that goddam pillow over her head.

“Nobody's gonna kill me. Use your head. In the first place, I'm going away. What I may do, I may get a job on a ranch or something for a while. I know this guy whose grandfather's got a ranch in Colorado. I may get a job out there,” I said. “I'll keep in touch with you and all when I'm gone, if I go. C'mon. Take that off your head. C'mon, hey, Phoeb. Please. Please, willya?”

She wouldn't take it off, though I tried pulling it off, but she's strong as hell. You get tired fighting with her. Boy, if she wants to keep a pillow over her head, she keeps it.

“Phoebe, please. C'mon outa there,” I kept saying. “C'mon, hey... Hey, Weatherfield. C'mon out.”

She wouldn't come out, though. You can't even reason with her sometimes. Finally, I got up and went out in the living room and got some cigarettes out of the box on the table and stuck some in my pocket. I was all out.

22,

When I came back, she had the pillow off her head all right-I knew she would-but she still wouldn't look at me, even though she was laying on her back and all. When I came around the side of the bed and sat down again, she turned her crazy face the other way. She was ostracizing the hell out of me. Just like the fencing team at Pencey when I left all the goddam foils on the subway.

“How's old Hazel Weatherfield?” I said. “You write any new stories about her? I got that one you sent me right in my suitcase. It's down at the station. It's very good.”

“Daddy'll kill you.”

Boy, she really gets something on her mind when she gets something on her mind.

“Because you don't. You don't like any schools. You don't like a million things. You don't.”

“I do! That's where you're wrong-that's exactly where you're wrong! Why the hell do you have to say that?” I said. Boy, was she depressing me.

“Because you don't,” she said. “Name one thing.”

“One thing? One thing I like?” I said. “Okay.”

The trouble was, I couldn't concentrate too hot. Sometimes it's hard to concentrate.

“One thing I like a lot you mean?” I asked her.

She didn't answer me, though. She was in a cockeyed position way the hell over the other side of the bed. She was about a thousand miles away.

“C'mon answer me,” I said. “One thing I like a lot, or one thing I just like?”

“You like a lot.”

"All right," I said. But the trouble was, I couldn't concentrate. About all I could think of were those two nuns that went around collecting dough in those beatup old straw baskets. Especially the one with the glasses with those iron rims. And this boy I knew at Elkton Hills. There was this one boy at Elkton Hills, named James Castle, that wouldn't take back something he said about this very conceited boy, Phil Stabile. James Castle called him a very conceited guy, and one of Stabile's lousy friends went and squealed on him to Stabile. So Stabile, with about six other dirty bastards, went down to James Castle's room and went in and locked the goddam door and tried to make him take back what he said, but he wouldn't do it. So they started in on him. I won't even tell you what they did to him-it's too repulsive-but he still wouldn't take it back, old James Castle. And you should've seen him. He was a skinny little weak-looking guy, with wrists about as big as pencils. Finally, what he did, instead of taking back what he said, he jumped out the window. I was in the shower and all, and even I could hear him land outside. But I just thought something fell out the window, a radio or a desk or something, not a boy or anything. Then I heard everybody running through the corridor and down the stairs, so I put on my bathrobe and I ran downstairs too, and there was old James Castle laying right on the stone steps and all. He was dead, and his teeth, and blood, were all over the place, and nobody would even go near him. He had on this turtleneck sweater I'd lent him. All they did with the guys that were in the room with him was expel them. They didn't even go to jail.

Then I went out in the living room and called up this teacher I had, Mr. Antolini.

23,

I made it very snappy on the phone because I was afraid my parents would barge in on me right in the middle of it. They didn't, though. Mr. Antolini was very nice. He said I could come right over if I wanted to. I think I probably woke he and his wife up, because it took them a helluva long time to answer the phone. The first thing he asked me was if anything was wrong, and I said no. I said I'd flunked out of Pencey, though. I thought I might as well tell him. He said “Good God,” when I said that. He had a good sense of humor and all. He told me to come right over if I felt like it.

He was about the best teacher I ever had, Mr. Antolini. He was a pretty young guy, not much older than my brother DB, and you could kid around with him without losing your respect for him. He was the one that finally picked up that boy that jumped out the window I told you about, James Castle. Old Mr. Antolini felt his pulse and all, and then he took off his coat and put it over James Castle and carried him all the way over to the infirmary. He didn't even give a damn if his coat got all bloody.

When I got back to DB 's room, old Phoebe'd turned the radio on. This dance music was coming out. She'd turned it on low, though, so the maid wouldn't hear it. You should've seen her. She was sitting smack in the middle of the bed, outside the covers, with her legs folded like one of those Yogi guys. She was listening to the music. She kills me.

“C'mon,” I said. “You feel like dancing?”

I taught her how to dance and all when she was a tiny little kid. She's a very good dancer. I mean I just taught her a few things. She learned it mostly by herself. You can't teach somebody how to really dance.

“You have shoes on,” she said.

“I'll take 'em off. C'mon.”

She practically jumped off the bed, and then she waited while I took my shoes off, and then I danced with her for a while. She's really damn good. I don't like people that dance with little kids, because most of the time it looks terrible. I mean if you're out at a restaurant somewhere and you see some old guy take his little kid out on the dance floor. Usually they keep yanking the kid's dress up in the back by mistake, and the kid can't dance worth a damn anyway, and it looks terrible, but I don't do it out in public with Phoebe or anything. We just horse around in the house. It's different with her anyway, because she can dance. She can follow anything you do. I mean if you hold her in close as hell so that it doesn't matter that your legs are so much longer. She stays right with you. You can cross over, or do some corny dips, or even jitterbug a little, and she stays right with you. You can even tango, for God's sake.

We danced about four numbers. In between numbers she's funny as hell. She stays right in position. She won't even talk or anything. You both have to stay right in position and wait for the orchestra to start playing again. That kills me. You're not supposed to laugh or anything, either.

Anyway, we danced about four numbers, and then I turned off the radio. Old Phoebe jumped back in bed and got under the covers.

“I'm improving, aren't I?” she asked me.

“And how,” I said. I sat down next to her on the bed again. I was sort of out of breath. I was smoking so damn much, I had hardly any wind. She wasn't even out of breath.

“Feel my forehead,” she said all of a sudden.

“Why?”

“Feel it. Just feel it once.” I felt it. I didn't feel anything, though.

“Does it feel very feverish?” she said.

“No. Is it supposed to?”

“Yes-I'm making it. Feel it again.”

I felt it again, and I still didn't feel anything, but I said, “I think it's starting to, now.” I didn't want her to get a goddam inferiority complex.

She nodded.

“I can make it go up to over the thermoneter.”

“Thermometer. Who said so?”

“Alice Holmborg showed me how. You cross your legs and hold your breath and think of something very, very hot. A radiator or something. Then your whole forehead gets so hot you can burn somebody's hand.”

That killed me. I pulled my hand away from her forehead, like I was in terrific danger.

“Thanks for telling me,” I said.

“Oh, I wouldn't've burned your hand. I'd've stopped before it got too-Shhh!” Then, quick as hell, she sat way the hell up in bed. She scared hell out of me when she did that.

“What's the matter?” I said.

“The front door!” she said in this loud whisper. “It's them!”

I quick jumped up and ran over and turned off the light over the desk. Then I jammed out my cigarette on my shoe and put it in my pocket. Then I fanned hell out of the air, to get the smoke out-I shouldn't even have been smoking, for God's sake. Then I grabbed my shoes and got in the closet and shut the door. Boy, my heart was beating like a bastard. I heard my mother come in the room.

“Phoebe?” she said. “Now, stop that. I saw the light, young lady.”

“Hello!” I heard old Phoebe say. “I couldn't sleep. Did you have a good time?”

“Marvelous,” my mother said, but you could tell she didn't mean it. She doesn't enjoy herself much when she goes out. “Why are you awake, may I ask? Were you warm enough?”

“I was warm enough, I just couldn't sleep.”

“Phoebe, have you been smoking a cigarette in here? Tell me the truth, please, young lady.”

“What?” old Phoebe said.

“You heard me.”

“I just lit one for one second. I just took one puff. Then I threw it out the window.”

"Why, may I ask?"

“I couldn't sleep.”

“I don't like that, Phoebe. I don't like that at all,” my mother said. “Do you want another blanket?”

“No, thanks. G'night!” old Phoebe said. She was trying to get rid of her, you could tell.

“How was the movie?” my mother said.

“Excellent. Except Alice's mother. She kept leaning over and asking her if she felt grippy during the whole entire movie. We took a taxi home.”

“Let me feel your forehead.”

“I didn't catch anything. She didn't have anything. It was just her mother.”

“Well. Go to sleep now. How was your dinner?”

“Lousy,” Phoebe said.

“You heard what your father said about using that word. What was lousy about it? You had a lovely lamb chop. I walked all over Lexington Avenue just to-”

“The lamb chop was all right, but Charlene always breathes on me whenever she puts something down. She breathes all over the food and everything. She breathes on everything.”

“Well. Go to sleep. Give Mother a kiss. Did you say your prayers?”

“I said them in the bathroom. G'night!”

“Good night. Go right to sleep now. I have a splitting headache,” my mother said. She gets headaches quite frequently. She really does.

“Take a few aspirins,” old Phoebe said. “Holden'll be home on Wednesday, won't he?”

“So far as I know. Get under there, now. Way down.”

I heard my mother go out and close the door. I waited a couple of minutes. Then I came out of the closet. I bumped smack into old Phoebe when I did it, because it was so dark and she was out of bed and coming to tell me.

“I hurt you?” I said. You had to whisper now, because they were both home. “I gotta get a move on,” I said. I found the edge of the bed in the dark and sat down on it and started putting on my shoes. I was pretty nervous. I admit it.

“Don't go now,” Phoebe whispered. “Wait'll they're asleep!”

“No. Now. Now's the best time,” I said. “She'll be in the bathroom and Daddy'll turn on the news or something. Now's the best time.”

I could hardly tie my shoelaces, I was so damn nervous. Not that they would've killed me or anything if they'd caught me home, but it would've been very unpleasant and all.

“Where the hell are ya?” I said to old Phoebe. It was so dark I couldn't see her.

“Here.” She was standing right next to me. I didn't even see her.

“I got my damn bags at the station,” I said. “Listen. You got any dough, Phoeb? I'm practically broke.”

“Just my Christmas dough. For presents and all. I haven't done any shopping at all yet.”

“Oh.” I didn't want to take her Christmas dough.

“You want some?” she said.

“I don't want to take your Christmas dough.”

“I can lend you some,” she said. Then I heard her over at DB 's desk, opening a million drawers and feeling around with her hand. It was pitch-black, it was so dark in the room. “If you go away, you won't see me in the play,” she said. Her voice sounded funny when she said it.

“Yes, I will. I won't go way before that. You think I wanna miss the play?” I said. “What I'll do, I'll probably stay at Mr. Antolini's house till maybe Tuesday night. Then I'll come home. If I get a chance, I'll phone ya.”

“Here,” old Phoebe said. She was trying to give me the dough, but she couldn't find my hand. “Where?” She put the dough in my hand.

“Hey, I don't need all this,” I said. “Just give me two bucks, is all. No kidding-Here.”

I tried to give it back to her, but she wouldn't take it.

“You can take it all. You can pay me back. Bring it to the play.”

“How much is it, for God's sake?”

“Eight dollars and eighty-five cents. Sixty-five cents. I spent some.”

Then, all of a sudden, I started to cry. I couldn't help it. I did it so nobody could hear me, but I did it. It scared hell out of old Phoebe when I started doing it, and she came over and tried to make me stop, but once you get started, you can't just stop on a goddam dime. I was still sitting on the edge of the bed when I did it, and she put her old arm around my neck, and I put my arm around her, too, but I still couldn't stop for a long time. I thought I was going to choke to death or something. Boy, I scared hell out of poor old Phoebe. The damn window was open and everything, and I could feel her shivering and all, because all she had on was her pajamas. I tried to make her get back in bed, but she wouldn't go. Finally I stopped. But it certainly took me a long, long time. Then I finished buttoning my coat and all. I told her I'd keep in touch with her. She told me I could sleep with her if I wanted to, but I said no, that I'd better beat it, that Mr. Antolini was waiting for me and all. Then I took my hunting hat out of my coat pocket and gave it to her. She likes those kind of crazy hats. She didn't want to take it, but I made her. I'll bet she slept with it on. She really likes those kind of hats. Then I told her again I'd give her a buzz if I got a chance, and then I left.

It was a helluva lot easier getting out of the house than it was getting in, for some reason. For one thing, I didn't give much of a damn any more if they caught me. I really didn't. I figured if they caught me, they caught me. I almost wished they did, in a way.

I walked all the way downstairs, instead of taking the elevator. I went down the back stairs. I nearly broke my neck on about ten million garbage pails, but I got out all right. The elevator boy didn't even see me. He probably still thinks I'm up at the Dicksteins'.

To 24

Mr. and Mrs. Antolini had this very swanky apartment over on Sutton Place, with two steps that you go down to get in the living room, and a bar and all. I'd been there quite a few times, because after I left Elkton Hills Mr. Antoilni came up to our house for dinner quite frequently to find out how I was getting along. He wasn't married then. Then when he got married, I used to play tennis with he and Mrs. Antolini quite frequently, out at the West Side Tennis Club, in Forest Hills, Long Island. Mrs. Antolini, belonged there. She was lousy with dough. She was about sixty years older than Mr. Antolini, but they seemed to get along quite well. For one thing, they were both very intellectual, especially Mr. Antolini except that he was more witty than intellectual when you were with him, sort of like DB Mrs. Antolini was mostly serious. She had asthma pretty bad. They both read all DB 's stories-Mrs. Antolini, too-and when DB went to Hollywood, Mr. Antolini phoned him up and told him not to go. He went anyway, though. Mr. Antolini said that anybody that could write like DB had no business going out to Hollywood. That's exactly what I said, practically.

I would have walked down to their house, because I didn't want to spend any of Phoebe's Christmas dough that I didn't have to, but I felt funny when I got outside. Sort of dizzy. So I took a cab. I didn't want to, but I did. I had a helluva time even finding a cab.

Old Mr. Antolini answered the door when I rang the bell-after the elevator boy finally let me up, the bastard. He had on his bathrobe and slippers, and he had a highball in one hand. He was a pretty sophisticated guy, and he was a pretty heavy drinker.

“Holden, m'boy!” he said. “My God, he's grown another twenty inches. Fine to see you.”

“How are you, Mr. Antolini? How's Mrs. Antolini?”

“We're both just dandy. Let's have that coat.” He took my coat off me and hung it up. “I expected to see a day-old infant in your arms. Nowhere to turn. Snowflakes in your eyelashes.”

He's a very witty guy sometimes. He turned around and yelled out to the kitchen, “Lillian! How's the coffee coming?”

Lillian was Mrs. Antolini's first name.

“It's all ready,” she yelled back. “Is that Holden? Hello, Holden!”

“Hello, Mrs. Antolini!”

You were always yelling when you were there. That's because the both of them were never in the same room at the same time. It was sort of funny.

“Sit down, Holden,” Mr. Antolini said. You could tell he was a little oiled up. The room looked like they'd just had a party. Glasses were all over the place, and dishes with peanuts in them. “Excuse the appearance of the place,” he said. “We've been entertaining some Buffalo friends of Mrs. Antolini's... Some buffaloes, as a matter of fact.”

I laughed, and Mrs. Antolini yelled something in to me from the kitchen, but I couldn't hear her.

“What'd she say?” I asked Mr. Antolini.

“She said not to look at her when she comes in. She just arose from the sack. Have a cigarette. Are you smoking now?”

“Thanks,” I said. I took a cigarette from the box he offered me. “Just once in a while. I'm a moderate smoker.”

“I'll bet you are,” he said. He gave me a light from this big lighter off the table. “So. You and Pencey are no longer one,” he said.

He always said things that way. Sometimes it amused me a lot and sometimes it didn't. He sort of did it a little bit too much. I don't mean he wasn't witty or anything-he was-but sometimes it gets on your nerves when somebody's always saying things like “So you and Pencey are no longer one.” DB does it too much sometimes, too.

“Oh, sure! I like somebody to stick to the point and all. But I don't like them to stick too much to the point. I don't know. I guess I don't like it when somebody sticks to the point all the time. The boys that got the best marks in Oral Expression were the ones that stuck to the point all the time-I admit it. But there was this one boy, Richard Kinsella. He didn't stick to the point too much, and they were always yelling 'Digression!' at him. It was terrible, because in the first place, he was a very nervous guy-I mean he was a very nervous guy-and his lips were always shaking whenever it was his time to make a speech, and you could hardly hear him if you were sitting way in the back of the room. When his lips sort of quit shaking a little bit, though, I liked his speeches better than anybody else's. He practically flunked the course, though, too. He got a D plus because they kept yelling 'Digression!' at him all the time. For instance, he made this speech about this farm his father bought in Vermont. They kept yelling 'Digression!' at him the whole time he was making it, and this teacher, Mr. Vinson, gave him an F on it because he hadn't told what kind of animals and vegetables and stuff grew on the farm and all. What he did was, Richard Kinsella, he'd start telling you all about that stuff-then all of a sudden he'd start telling you about this letter his mother got from his uncle, and how his uncle got polio and all when he was forty-two years old, and how he wouldn't let anybody come to see him in the hospital because he didn't want anybody to see him with a brace on. It didn't have much to do with the farm-I admit it-but it was nice. It's nice when somebody tells you about their uncle. Especially when they start out telling you about their father's farm and then all of a sudden get more interested in their uncle. I mean it's dirty to keep yelling 'Digression!' at him when he's all nice and excited. I don't know. It's hard to explain.”

I didn't feel too much like trying, either. For one thing, I had this terrific headache all of a sudden. I wished to God old Mrs. Antolini would come in with the coffee. That's something that annoys hell out of me-I mean if somebody says the coffee's all ready and it isn't.

“Holden... One short, faintly stuffy, pedagogical question. Don't you think there's a time and place for everything? Don't you think if someone starts out to tell you about his father's farm, he should stick to his guns, then get around to telling you about his uncle's brace? Or, if his uncle's brace is such a provocative subject, shouldn't he have selected it in the first place as his subject-not the farm?”

I didn't feel much like thinking and answering and all. I had a headache and I felt lousy. I even had sort of a stomach-ache, if you want to know the truth.

“Yes-I don't know. I guess he should. I mean I guess he should've picked his uncle as a subject, instead of the farm, if that interested him most. But what I mean is, lots of time you don't know what interests you most till you start talking about something that doesn't interest you most. I mean you can't help it sometimes. What I think is, you're supposed to leave somebody alone if he's at least being interesting and he's getting all excited about something. I like it when somebody gets excited about something. It's nice. You just didn't know this teacher, Mr. Vinson. He could drive you crazy sometimes, him and the goddam class. I mean he'd keep telling you to unify and simplify all the time. Some things you just can't do that to. I mean you can't hardly ever simplify and unify something just because somebody wants you to. You didn't know this guy, Mr. Vinson. I mean he was very intelligent and all, but you could tell he didn't have too much brains.”

“Coffee, gentlemen, finally,” Mrs. Antolini said. She came in carrying this tray with coffee and cakes and stuff on it. “Holden, don't you even peek at me. I'm a mess.”

“Hello, Mrs. Antolini,” I said. I started to get up and all, but Mr. Antolini got hold of my jacket and pulled me back down. Old Mrs. Antolini's hair was full of those iron curler jobs, and she didn't have any lipstick or anything on. She didn't look too gorgeous. She looked pretty old and all.

“I'll leave this right here. Just dive in, you two,” she said. She put the tray down on the cigarette table, pushing all these glasses out of the way. “How's your mother, Holden?”

“She's fine, thanks. I haven't seen her too recently, but the last I-”

“Darling, if Holden needs anything, everything's in the linen closet. The top shelf. I'm going to bed. I'm exhausted,” Mrs. Antolini said. She looked it, too. “Can you boys make up the couch by yourselves?”

“We'll take care of everything. You run along to bed,” Mr. Antolini said. He gave Mrs. Antolini a kiss and she said good-by to me and went in the bedroom. They were always kissing each other a lot in public.

I had part of a cup of coffee and about half of some cake that was as hard as a rock. All old Mr. Antolini had was another highball, though. He makes them strong, too, you could tell. He may get to be an alcoholic if he doesn't watch his step.

“I had lunch with your dad a couple of weeks ago,” he said all of a sudden. “Did you know that?”

“No, I didn't.”

“You're aware, of course, that he's terribly concerned about you.”

“I know it. I know he is,” I said.

“Apparently before he phoned me he'd just had a long, rather harrowing letter from your latest headmaster, to the effect that you were making absolutely no effort at all. Cutting classes. Coming unprepared to all your classes. In general, being an all-around-”

“I didn't cut any classes. You weren't allowed to cut any. There were a couple of them I didn't attend once in a while, like that Oral Expression I told you about, but I didn't cut any.”

I didn't feel at all like discussing it. The coffee made my stomach feel a little better, but I still had this awful headache.

Mr. Antolini lit another cigarette. He smoked like a fiend. Then he said, “Frankly, I don't know what the hell to say to you, Holden.”

“I know. I'm very hard to talk to. I realize that.”

“I have a feeling that you're riding for some kind of a terrible, terrible fall. But I don't honestly know what kind... Are you listening to me?”

“Yes.”

You could tell he was trying to concentrate and all.

“It may be the kind where, at the age of thirty, you sit in some bar hating everybody who comes in looking as if he might have played football in college. Then again, you may pick up just enough education to hate people who say, 'It's a secret between he and I. ' Or you may end up in some business office, throwing paper clips at the nearest stenographer. I just don't know. But do you know what I'm driving at, at all?”

“Yes. Sure,” I said. I did, too. “But you're wrong about that hating business. I mean about hating football players and all. You really are. I don't hate too many guys. What I may do, I may hate them for a little while, like this guy Stradlater I knew at Pencey, and this other boy, Robert Ackley. I hated them once in a while-I admit it-but it doesn't last too long, is what I mean. After a while, if I didn't see them, if they didn't come in the room, or if I didn't see them in the dining room for a couple of meals, I sort of missed them. I mean I sort of missed them.”

Mr. Antolini didn't say anything for a while. He got up and got another hunk of ice and put it in his drink, then he sat down again. You could tell he was thinking. I kept wishing, though, that he'd continue the conversation in the morning, instead of now, but he was hot. People are mostly hot to have a discussion when you're not.

“All right. Listen to me a minute now... I may not word this as memorably as I'd like to, but I'll write you a letter about it in a day or two. Then you can get it all straight. But listen now, anyway.”

He started concentrating again. Then he said, “This fall I think you're riding for-it's a special kind of fall, a horrible kind. The man falling isn't permitted to feel or hear himself hit bottom. He just keeps falling and falling. The whole arrangement's designed for men who, at some time or other in their lives, were looking for something their own environment couldn't supply them with. Or they thought their own environment couldn't supply them with. So they gave up looking. They gave it up before they ever really even got started. You follow me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sure?”

“Yes.”

He got up and poured some more booze in his glass. Then he sat down again. He didn't say anything for a long time.

“I don't want to scare you,” he said, “but I can very clearly see you dying nobly, one way or another, for some highly unworthy cause.” He gave me a funny look. “If I write something down for you, will you read it carefully? And keep it?”

“Yes. Sure,” I said. I did, too. I still have the paper he gave me. He went over to this desk on the other side of the room, and without sitting down wrote something on a piece of paper. Then he came back and sat down with the paper in his hand.

“Oddly enough, this wasn't written by a practicing poet. It was written by a psychoanalyst named Wilhelm Stekel. Here's what he-Are you still with me?”

“Yes, sure I am.”

“Here's what he said: 'The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one. '”

“Something else an academic education will do for you. If you go along with it any considerable distance, it'll begin to give you an idea what size mind you have. What it'll fit and, maybe, what it won't. After a while, you'll have an idea what kind of thoughts your particular size mind should be wearing. For one thing, it may save you an extraordinary amount of time trying on ideas that don't suit you, aren't becoming to you. You'll begin to know your true measurements and dress your mind accordingly.”

Then, all of a sudden, I yawned. What a rude bastard, but I couldn't help it! Mr. Antolini just laughed, though.

“C'mon,” he said, and got up. “We'll fix up the couch for you.”

I followed him and he went over to this closet and tried to take down some sheets and blankets and stuff that was on the top shelf, but he couldn't do it with this highball glass in his hand. So he drank it and then put the glass down on the floor and then he took the stuff down. I helped him bring it over to the couch. We both made the bed together. He wasn't too hot at it. He didn't tuck anything in very tight. I didn't care, though. I could've slept standing up I was so tired.

“How're all your women?”

“They're okay.” I was being a lousy conversationalist, but I didn't feel like it.

“How's Sally?” He knew old Sally Hayes. I introduced him once.

“She's all right. I had a date with her this afternoon.” Boy, it seemed like twenty years ago! “We don't have too much in common any more.”

“Helluva pretty girl. What about that other girl? The one you told me about, in Maine?”

“Oh-Jane Gallagher. She's all right. I'm probably gonna give her a buzz tomorrow.”

We were all done making up the couch then.

“It's all yours,” Mr. Antolini said. “I don't know what the hell you're going to do with those legs of yours.”

“That's all right. I'm used to short beds,” I said. “Thanks a lot, sir. You and Mrs. Antolini really saved my life tonight.”

“You know where the bathroom is. If there's anything you want, just holler. I'll be in the kitchen for a while-will the light bother you?”

“No-heck, no. Thanks a lot. "

“All right. Good night, handsome.”

“G'night, sir. Thanks a lot. "

He went out in the kitchen and I went in the bathroom and got undressed and all. I couldn't brush my teeth because I didn't have any toothbrush with me. I didn't have any pajamas either and Mr. Antolini forgot to lend me some. So I just went back in the living room and turned off this little lamp next to the couch, and then I got in bed with just my shorts on. It was way too short for me, the couch, but I really could've slept standing up without batting an eyelash. I laid awake for just a couple of seconds thinking about all that stuff Mr. Antolini'd told me. About finding out the size of your mind and all. He was really a pretty smart guy. But I couldn't keep my goddam eyes open, and I fell asleep.

Then something happened. I don't even like to talk about it.

I woke up all of a sudden. I don't know what time it was or anything, but I woke up. I felt something on my head, some guy's hand. Boy, it really scared hell out of me. What it was, it was Mr. Antolini's hand. What he was doing was, he was sitting on the floor right next to the couch, in the dark and all, and he was sort of petting me or patting me on the goddam head. Boy, I'll bet I jumped about a thousand feet.

“What the hellya doing?” I said.

“Nothing! I'm simply sitting here, admiring-”

“What're ya doing, anyway?” I said over again. I didn't know what the hell to say-I mean I was embarrassed as hell.

“How 'bout keeping your voice down? I'm simply sitting here-”

“I have to go, anyway,” I said-boy, was I nervous! I started putting on my damn pants in the dark. I could hardly get them on I was so damn nervous. I know more damn perverts, at schools and all, than anybody you ever met, and they're always being perverty when I'm around.

“You have to go where?” Mr. Antolini said. He was trying to act very goddam casual and cool and all, but he wasn't any too goddam cool. Take my word.

“I left my bags and all at the station. I think maybe I'd better go down and get them. I have all my stuff in them.”

“They'll be there in the morning. Now, go back to bed. I'm going to bed myself. What's the matter with you?”

“Nothing's the matter, it's just that all my money and stuff's in one of my bags. I'll be right back. I'll get a cab and be right back,” I said. Boy, I was falling all over myself in the dark. “The thing is, it isn't mine, the money. It's my mother's, and I-”

“Don't be ridiculous, Holden. Get back in that bed. I'm going to bed myself. The money will be there safe and sound in the morn-”

“No, no kidding. I gotta get going. I really do. "

I was damn near all dressed already, except that I couldn't find my tie. I couldn't remember where I'd put my tie. I put on my jacket and all without it. Old Mr. Antolini was sitting now in the big chair a little ways away from me, watching me. It was dark and all and I couldn't see him so hot, but I knew he was watching me, all right. He was still boozing, too. I could see his trusty highball glass in his hand.

“You're a very, very strange boy.”

“I know it,” I said. I didn't even look around much for my tie. So I went without it.

“Good-by, sir,” I said, “Thanks a lot. No kidding.”

He kept walking right behind me when I went to the front door, and when I rang the elevator bell he stayed in the damn doorway. All he said was that business about my being a “very, very strange boy” again. Strange, my ass. Then he waited in the doorway and all till the goddam elevator came. I never waited so long for an elevator in my whole goddam life. I swear.

I didn't know what the hell to talk about while I was waiting for the elevator, and he kept standing there, so I said, “I'm gonna start reading some good books. I really am.”

I mean you had to say something. It was very embarrassing.

“You grab your bags and scoot right on back here again. I'll leave the door unlatched.”

“Thanks a lot,” I said. “G'by!” The elevator was finally there. I got in and went down. Boy, I was shaking like a madman. I was sweating, too. When something perverty like that happens, I start sweating like a bastard. That kind of stuff's happened to me about twenty times since I was a kid. I can't stand it.

25,

When I got outside, it was just getting light out. It was pretty cold, too, but it felt good because I was sweating so much.

I didn't know where the hell to go. I didn't want to go to another hotel and spend all Phoebe's dough. So finally all I did was I walked over to Lexington and took the subway down to Grand Central. My bags were there and all, and I figured I'd sleep in that crazy waiting room where all the benches are. So that's what I did. It wasn't too bad for a while because there weren't many people around and I could stick my feet up. But I don't feel much like discussing it. It wasn't too nice. Don't ever try it. I mean it. It'll depress you.

I only slept till around nine o'clock because a million people started coming in the waiting room and I had to take my feet down. I can't sleep so hot if I have to keep my feet on the floor. So I sat up. I still had that headache. It was even worse. And I think I was more depressed than I ever was in my whole life.

It'sort of looked like it was going to rain, but I went for this walk anyway. For one thing, I figured I ought to get some breakfast. I wasn't at all hungry, but I figured I ought to at least eat something. I mean at least get something with some vitamins in it. So I started walking way over east, where the pretty cheap restaurants are, because I didn't want to spend a lot of dough.

While I was walking, I passed these two guys that were unloading this big Christmas tree off a truck. One guy kept saying to the other guy, “Hold the sonuvabitch up! Hold it up, for Chrissake!” It certainly was a gorgeous way to talk about a Christmas tree.

It was sort of funny, though, in an awful way, and I started to sort of laugh. It was about the worst thing I could've done, because the minute I started to laugh I thought I was going to vomit. I really did. I even started to, but it went away. I don't know why. I mean I hadn't eaten anything unsanitary or like that and usually I have quite a strong stomach.

Anyway, I got over it, and I figured I'd feel better if I had something to eat. So I went in this very cheap-looking restaurant and had doughnuts and coffee. Only, I didn't eat the doughnuts. I couldn't swallow them too well. The thing is, if you get very depressed about something, it's hard as hell to swallow. The waiter was very nice, though. He took them back without charging me. I just drank the coffee. Then I left and started walking over toward Fifth Avenue.

The principal didn't seem to be around, but some old lady around a hundred years old was sitting at a typewriter. I told her I was Phoebe Caulfield's brother, in 4B-1, and I asked her to please give Phoebe the note. I said it was very important because my mother was sick and wouldn't have lunch ready for Phoebe and that she'd have to meet me and have lunch in a drugstore. She was very nice about it, the old lady. She took the note off me and called some other lady, from the next office, and the other lady went to give it to Phoebe. Then the old lady that was around a hundred years old and I shot the breeze for a while, She was pretty nice, and I told her how I'd gone there to school, too, and my brothers. She asked me where I went to school now, and I told her Pencey, and she said Pencey was a very good school. Even if I'd wanted to, I wouldn't have had the strength to straighten her out. Besides, if she thought Pencey was a very good school, let her think it. You hate to tell new stuff to somebody around a hundred years old. They don't like to hear it. Then, after a while, I left. It was funny. She yelled “Good luck!” at me the same way old Spencer did when I left Pencey. God, how I hate it when somebody yells “Good luck!” at me when I'm leaving somewhere. It's depressing.

I went down by a different staircase, and I saw another “Fuck you” on the wall. I tried to rub it off with my hand again, but this one was scratched on, with a knife or something. It wouldn't come off. It's hopeless, anyway. If you had a million years to do it in, you couldn't rub out even half the “Fuck you” signs in the world. It's impossible.

I looked at the clock in the recess yard, and it was only twenty to twelve, so I had quite a lot of time to kill before I met old Phoebe. But I just walked over to the museum anyway. There wasn't anyplace else to go. I thought maybe I might stop in a phone booth and give old Jane Gallagher a buzz before I started bumming my way west, but I wasn't in the mood. For one thing, I wasn't even sure she was home for vacation yet. So I just went over to the museum, and hung around.

While I was waiting around for Phoebe in the museum, right inside the doors and all, these two little kids came up to me and asked me if I knew where the mummies were. The one little kid, the one that asked me, had his pants open. I told him about it. So he buttoned them up right where he was standing talking to me-he didn't even bother to go behind a post or anything. He killed me. I would've laughed, but I was afraid I'd feel like vomiting again, so I didn't.

“Where're the mummies, fella?” the kid said again. “Ya know?”

I horsed around with the two of them a little bit.

“The mummies? What're they?” I asked the one kid.

“You know. The mummies-them dead guys. That get buried in them toons and all.”

Toons. That killed me. He meant tombs.

“How come you two guys aren't in school?” I said.

“No school t'day,” the kid that did all the talking said. He was lying, sure as I'm alive, the little bastard. I didn't have anything to do, though, till old Phoebe showed up, so I helped them find the place where the mummies were. Boy, I used to know exactly where they were, but I hadn't been in that museum in years.

“You two guys so interested in mummies?” I said.

“Yeah.”

“Can't your friend talk?” I said.

“I know.” Then what she did-it damn near killed me-she reached in my coat pocket and took out my red hunting hat and put it on my head.

“Don't you want it?” I said.

“You can wear it a while.”

“Okay. Hurry up, though, now. You're gonna miss your ride. You won't get your own horse or anything.”

She kept hanging around, though.

“Did you mean it what you said? You really aren't going away anywhere? Are you really going home afterwards?” she asked me.

“Yeah,” I said. I meant it, too. I wasn't lying to her. I really did go home afterwards. “Hurry up, now,” I said. “The thing's starting.”

She ran and bought her ticket and got back on the goddam carrousel just in time. Then she walked all the way around it till she got her own horse back. Then she got on it. She waved to me and I waved back.

Boy, it began to rain like a bastard. In buckets, I swear to God. All the parents and mothers and everybody went over and stood right under the roof of the carrousel, so they wouldn't get soaked to the skin or anything, but I stuck around on the bench for quite a while. I got pretty soaking wet, especially my neck and my pants. My hunting hat really gave me quite a lot of protection, in a way; but I got soaked anyway. I didn't care, though. I felt so damn happy all of sudden, the way old Phoebe kept going around and around. I was damn near bawling, I felt so damn happy, if you want to know the truth. I don't know why. It was just that she looked so damn nice, the way she kept going around and around, in her blue coat and all. God, I wish you could've been there.

26

That's all I'm going to tell about. I could probably tell you what I did after I went home, and how I got sick and all, and what school I'm supposed to go to next fall, after I get out of here, but I don't feel like it. I really don't. That stuff doesn't interest me too much right now.

A lot of people, especially this one psychoanalyst guy they have here, keeps asking me if I'm going apply myself when I go back to school next September. It's such a stupid question, in my opinion. I mean how do you know what you're going to do till you do it? The answer is, you don't. I think I am, but how do I know? I swear it's a stupid question.

DB isn't as bad as the rest of them, but he keeps asking me a lot of questions, too. He drove over last Saturday with this English babe that's in this new picture he's writing. She was pretty affected, but very good-looking. Anyway, one time when she went to the ladies' room way the hell down in the other wing DB asked me what I thought about all this stuff I just finished telling you about. I didn't know what the hell to say. If you want to know the truth, I don't know what I think about it. I'm sorry I told so many people about it. About all I know is, I sort of miss everybody I told about. Even old Stradlater and Ackley, for instance. I think I even miss that goddam Maurice. It's funny. Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.


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Post Re: POST, POST LIKE YOU NEVER POSTED BEFORE!
Charles Dickens
Great Expectations
Translation Rostislav Dotsenko

© C.Dickens. Great Expectations, 1861

© R.Dotsenko (translated from English), 1986

Source: Ch.Dikkens. Great Expectations. K.: Rainbow, 1986. 480 p.

Scanning and proofreading: Aerius, SK ( AE-lib.org.ua ), 2004
Content

Chapter I

Section II

Section III

Section IV

Section V

Section VI

Chapter VII

Section VIII

Section IX

Section X

Section XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Section XVI

Chapter XVII

Section XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

Section XXI

Chapter XXII

Chapter XXIII

Chapter XXIV

Chapter XXV

Chapter XXVI

Chapter XXVII

Chapter XXVIII

Chapter XXIX

Chapter XXX

Chapter XXXI

Chapter XXXII

Chapter XXXIII

Chapter XXXIV

Chapter XXXV

Chapter XXXVI

Chapter XXXVII

Chapter XXXVIII

Chapter XXXIX

Chapter XL

Chapter XLI

Chapter XLII

Chapter XLIII

Chapter XLIV

Chapter XLV

Chapter XLVI

Chapter XLVII

Chapter XLVIII

Chapter XLIX

Section L

Chapter LI

Chapter LII

Chapter LIII

Chapter LIV

Chapter LV

Chapter LVI

Chapter LVII

Chapter LVIII

Chapter LIX

Chapter I

My father's name was Pirrip and gave me the name of Philip, but for my children's language both these words are too complicated, I just brought them to the "Pipa." So I called myself, and later this name are others I called.

What Pirrip - a father's name, I know from the inscription on his tombstone, as well as testimony from my sister - Mrs. Joe Hardzheri who married the blacksmith. Since I have never seen neither father nor mother, nor any of their podobyzny (because they lived in those times when a picture is not heard), my very first idea of ​​their appearance in some strange way connected with the appearance of their tombstones. With the outline of the letters on the father's tomb for some reason I decided to myself that my father was a squat, stocky and dark-skinned and had dark hair. And the words "also Georgiana, wife vyschepoymenovanoho", created in the image of my child's imagination morbid women freckles that was my mother. Alongside their graves lined up five small string, each a half feet long, diamond-shaped tombstones that lay beneath them in peace my little five bhatykiz that too soon refused to participate in all epitniy struggle for existence - I was firmly certain that they came into being, lying flat on his back and holding his hands in the pockets of pants, and that they did not even once removed from their pockets the whole time on earth padoli.

We lived in a swampy neighborhood near the bend of the river, which is twenty miles further flows into the sea. I think my first conscious and lasting impression on the world, I became a memorable rainy twilight. It was then that I perceived with certainty that this goal places, overgrown with nettles - a cemetery, and that "Philip Pirrip, a resident siyeyi parish, and Georgiana, wife vyschepoymenovanoho" long dead and buried, and that their babies - Alexander, Bartholomew, Eybrehem, Tobias and Roger - too long dead and buried, and that alternating dam, levee and gateways dark flat plain outside the cemetery, which here and there where grazing cattle - a bog, and a talent of lead strip outside it - a river, and distant savage lair from which breaks the wind - is the sea, and that nastrahane it all and chill permeated the small creature that is about to fall through the crying - it is Pip.

- Come Hush! - There was suddenly someone's vote in February, and a conspicuous place from among the graves at the church porch set a stranger. - Shut up, dickens, for Cut his throat!

Strahovyta figure in simple gray robes shackles on his leg. A man in tattered shoes, hats on their heads instead of some lahmanyna. A man who soaked in water and in the mud zatalapavsya that pozbyvav and wounded feet on sharp stones, it stung shmatuvalo nettles and thorns. What nakulhuvav and trembled zyryv in all directions and grumbled, and the noise of teeth, when suddenly grabbed my chin.

- Oh, do not cut my throat, uncle! - I was horrified. - God's sake, uncle!

- What's your name? - Sdytav stranger. - Fast!

- Pip, uncle.

- Come replays - he stared at me. - Clearly.

- Pip. Pip, uncle.

- Show-but where do you live - said the stranger. - Hand show.

I showed up at the other side, where the flat nadberezhzhi by a mile from the church among the alder and other trees lies our village.

Stranger, zmiryavshy view my figure peryekynuv [14] me upside down and sporozhnyv my pocket. They found nothing except Gorbushka bread. When the church was again in his place - and this uncle was a time-whist and strong that suddenly turned up its base, even bell ended up under my feet - so, I say, when the church back into place, I sat on the high tombstone, a stranger bend namynav my bread.

- Come on, dog - he said, licking his lips. - IR which you schokatyy!

Maybe it is true that I was schokatyy, though in general I was not in stature as its summer and power could not boast.

- You should have gobbled up your cheeks, let them hell! - Said the stranger, sternly trusnuvshy head. - And why not, really?

I vysloeyv zealous desire that he did not do, and stronger jumped at the tomb where he posadovyv me - partly so as not to fall, and partly to hold back tears.

- Hey-no here! - Said the stranger. - Where is your mother?

- Here, Uncle, - I answered.

He shuddered and jerked run but suddenly stuck and understood.

- Here, uncle - I timidly explained. - "Also Georgiana." This is my mother.

- Oh, - he said, returning back. - And next to mother your father?

- Yes, Uncle, - I, - this is it. "Resident siyeyi parish."

- Yeah - he muttered, weighing something. - With whom do you live, that he lived, for I have not yet decided whether to let you continue to live?

- With her sister, uncle, - from Mrs. Joe Hardzheri, wife of Joe smith Hardzheri, uncle.

- Smith, you say? - He answered. I looked at my leg.

Clear transferring several times then look at me, then again on his foot, he stepped closer and grabbed my both hands perehylyv as far back, his eyes curiously stared down at me, and my helplessly stared up at him.

- Hey-no here! - He ordered. - Here is the thing - I will let you live or not. You know what a file?

- I know, uncle. [15]

- And what yidlo know?

- I know, uncle.

After each question he zlehenka shook me to better feel the danger that hung over me, and helpless.

- You recieve my file. - The second time he rocked me. - I recieve my yidla. - He shook me again. - Bring this and that. - He again shook me. - But not - I delivered to you along with a liver Heart . - He shook me again.

I was scared to death and so dizzy that came to him with both hands, and said,

- Please, uncle let me sit straight, then I, perhaps, no longer sick and I can better understand you.

He perehnuv me back that up church jumped over its own weathercock. Then vyprostav all on the same tombstone and without letting go of hands, took a horrible language:

- Utrechkom morrow thou shalt FILE me and yidla. On offer there, where the old and the battery. You do it and not tell anyone or slovechka and not even hint that he saw someone such as I, or someone else, and then you bestowed life. But if you do not do or at least a pinch aside from my words, you plucked the heart and liver, fry and eat. I have you to know, is not alone as you may seem. For me there is only one moon is hidden, so here I am against it pure angel. This young man hears what I say. This young man has their own special ways to get to a little child, to his heart and liver. Freely guy trying to hide from him. Man can lock the door, can not afford cushy vmostytys in bed can zakutatys can shelter from the head, may think that he is in comfort and safety, but the young man quietly skradetsya, skradetsya him and kill! I have one and now barely restrain this young man to not cause you harm. I can barely hold it to not rush you. Well, what do you say to this?

I said I'll get it files, and eat'll get as you can, and come to his pack early utrechkom.

- Say: "May the Lord smite me if I do not do!" - Told the stranger.

I said, and he took me to a high tomb. [16]

- And now, - he said - remember that you promised, remember how this young man, and let's go home.

- Up-good night, uncle - haltingly I said goodbye.

- Good night to me! - Was considered a stranger on a cold wet lowlands around. - Is that a frog. Do eels.

Whole body trembling, he clasped both hands himself over his shoulders - squeezed as if afraid that collapse - and zakulhav to the low church wall. When I looked at him like he prodyrayetsya through thickets of nettles and blackberries that grew round green hill, my children's eyes seemed as if he evades the dead who quietly extend a hand from the grave, trying to catch him and drag the ground.

He went to the low fence, climbed over strained it - it was evident that his legs numb and congealed - and then looked at me. Seeing this, I turned toward the house, and ran at full speed to escape. But soon I did once looked back over his shoulder - he went to the river, still holding himself both hands and feet whipped stepping between kaminyuchchya, sketched here and there in the swamp to make it easier to pass during major rain or tide.

I stopped and looked after him: a long black horizontal stripes stretched bog, the same band look and the river, just a bit narrower and lighter, and the sky was posmuhovane - blood-red stripes slalysya interspersed with dark-black. Over the river, I barely distinguish only two in the surrounding landscape of vertical structures: lighthouse, helping ships to stay the course - brydotnyy in appearance as to come closer, it was like a tub, leaning on a pole - and the gallows with the remains of the chains, which was once hanged pirate. Stranger limping toward the gallows, so it seemed Pirate revived and returned to her again pochepytys. I even gasped as a thought, noticing that cows popidnosyly head and look into his side, I asked myself, and maybe they have the same mind? I was considered round about, looking through the eyes of the terrible moon, and never saw him no trace. But I fear proynyav again, and I ran home, nowhere else is not stopping. [17]

Chapter 2

My sister, Mrs. Joe Hardzheri was twenty-odd years older than me and healed great respect in their eyes and in the eyes of neighbors that brought me to "own hand." Since I did not understand the meaning of that expression, but knew that the hand of her strong and hard and she willingly applied it not only to me but also to my husband, I came to the conclusion that both Joe and I Hardzheri, sister were brought up by hand.

My sister was not that beautiful, and I got the impression that she ozhenyla on himself Joe Hardzheri own hand. Joe was blond, linen curls framed his smooth face, and his eyes had such a light blue, until it seemed that it was they borrowed a little of the protein clarity. Gentle, good-natured, reserved, balanced, bezpretenziynyy - the beloved Joe was Hercules and his strength, and weakness.

And my sister, Mrs. Joe, had black hair and black eyes, and skin to red, I sometimes wondered whether she washes grater instead of soap. Висока й кістлява, вона майже ніколи не скидала грубого фартуха з поворозками за плечима і квадратним панцирним нагрудником, утиканим шпильками та голками. Вона ставила собі в неабияку заслугу, що постійно носила фартуха, і раз у раз дорікала цим Джо. Хоча, як на мене, він їй взагалі не був потрібен, в усякому разі вона могла б скинути його першої-ліпшої хвилини.

Кузня Джо прилягала до нашого будиночка, дерев'яного, як і багато інших осель у цих краях,- власне, більшість їх були тоді дерев'яні. Коли я прибіг додому з цвинтаря, кузня стояла замкнена, а Джо сидів сам у кухні Ми з Джо, обидва бувши потерпілі, відчували обопільну симпатію, тож тільки-но я підніс клямку на дверях, заглянув у шпарину й побачив його навпроти дверей у кутку, де коминок, він і мовив мені тихенько:

- Місіс Джо, Піпе, вже разів з дванадцять виходила тебе шукати. А оце знов пішла - якраз і буде чортова дюжина.

- Справді?

- Еге ж, Піпе,- сказав Джо.- Вона ще й Лоскотуна з собою прихопила.

Почувши цю прикру новину, я похнюплено втупився [18] у вогонь і став крутити останнього ґудзика, що лишився в мене на жилетці. Лоскотун - це був такий кийок з гладеньким кінцем, виглянсованим від частого лоскотання моєї шкіри.

- Вона сиділа ось тут,- сказав Джо,- а потім як підскочить, та як схопить Лоскотуна, та й шасть надвір, мов шалена. Оце така вона була,- сказав Джо, дивлячись на вогонь і повільно помішуючи жар коцюбою, просунутою крізь ґратки.- Геть мов шалена, Піпе.

- А давно вона вийшла, Джо? - Я завжди вважав його такою ж, як і сам, дитиною, тільки на зріст більшою.

- Та вже,- сказав Джо, глянувши на годинника, що висів на стіні,- хвилин з п'ять вона піаленіє, Піпе. О, вертається! Сховайся за двері, друзяко, та прикрийся рушником.

Я так і зробив. Але моя сестра, місіс Джо, розчахнувши двері й відчувши перепону, зразу вгадала причину і вдалася до Лоскотуна для глибших досліджень. Завершилось це тим, що вона штурнула мене - у хатньому вжитку я часто правив для неї за свого роду кидачку - на Джо, а той, завжди охочий зустрітися зі мною на будь-яких умовах, спровадив мене в куток за коминком і спокійно загородив своїм здоровецьким коліном.

- Де тебе, мавпеня, носило? - спитала місіс Джо, тупнувши ногою.- Зараз же мені кажи, чого ти такого накоїв, що я просто місця собі не знаходжу від хвилювання, переживання й страху, бо коли ні - то я витягну тебе з кутка, хоч би вас тут було півсотні Піпів і цілих п'ять сотень Гарджері.

- Я тільки був на цвинтарі,- плачливо пробурмотів я зі свого ослінчика в кутку, потираючи ушкоджені місця на тілі.

- На цвинтарі! - повторила сестра.- Якби не я, ти б уже давно й навіки був на цвинтарі. Хто виховав тебе власною рукою?

- Ви,- сказав я.

- А може, ти мені поясниш, навіщо я це зробила? - вигукнула сестра.

Я пробурмотів:

- Не знаю.

- І я не знаю,- сказала сестра.- Вдруге я б нізащо не стала цього робити! Я вже знаю. Відколи ти прийшов на світ, я, можна сказати, й не скидаю цього фартуха. Мало, що я жінка простого коваля (та ще й Гарджері), то я ще мушу бути тобі за матір! [20]

Але я її вже не слухав і, похнюплено втупившись у вогонь, перекинувся думками на інше. На тлі цих зловісно мерехтливих вуглинок переді мною поставали болота і серед них утікач з кайданами на нозі, таємничий молодик, напилок, харчі й жахлива моя обіцянка обікрасти оселю, де я жив.

- Авжеж,- сказала місіс Джо, ставлячи Лоскотуна на місце.- Цвинтар, де ж пак! Легко вам обом говорити про цвинтар.- Один з нас, до речі, не озивався ані словом.- Ви самі заженете мене на цвинтар, уже не довго чекати. І ладно ж вам обом житиметься без мене!

Коли вона заходилася готувати чай, Джо позирнув на мене з-під коліна, немов прикидаючи, як ми вдвох давали б собі раду, якби здійснилося це похмуре пророцтво. Після цього він звів на місіс Джо голубі очі, а правою рукою став погладжувати свої лляні кучері й баки, як то мав звичку робити під час родинних колотнеч.

That was too much for Mrs. Joe, who suddenly jumped to his feet.

- That's what I'll tell you parubche: I'm not that educated you own hand, that you people per vymotuvav their chatter. No I would not praised for it, but be blamed. Put in jail those who kill, rob, earns money and committing all sorts of other outrages, and they begin with, putting silly questions. Now march to sleep!

I was not allowed to take a candle when I climbed up to her, so I poplivsya the touch stairs and my head was buzzing from tapping thimble that Mrs. Joe strengthened his last words, and I made clear was aware of the terrible truth that floating prison - this place is for me. To anything else and could not lead my behavior. I started with that put stupid question, and even now going to rob Mrs. Joe.

After those long-past days I have often wondered how few adults are aware of the fears that lurk in the depths of a child's soul. They may be completely unfounded, but still it fears. I'm deathly afraid of the young man who encroach on my heart and liver; mortally afraid of his acquaintance with shackles on his leg, mortally afraid of himself compelled to give such terrible promise. I had hopes to help his sister-powerful that only dopikala me at every turn. [25]

Scary to think, which hasty step could push me these mysterious fears.

That night I hardly slept for only Close your eyes - and already see how the Sand River flow carries me into a floating prison, and when I was sailing past the gallows ghost pirate calling to me in a tube, so I better came ashore and gave hang himself because the gallows long weeping for me. Even if I wanted to sleep and I was afraid to go to sleep knowing that at the first glimmer of dawn I also have to rob closet with food. Ar in the dark it was impossible to do it: at that time the fire was mined flint, and, lighting a candle, I nahrymotiv be not less than the pirate its shackles.

Barely-no lengthy black velvet cover for the window took my sirynoyu I jumped and went down, and each and every floorboard shparyna each floorboards shouted after me: "Catch the thief!" And "Get up, Mrs. Joe!" In the closet, where occasion of Christmas supplies was much more than usual, I was terribly frightened rabbit hanging by the legs - I thought he winks suspicion on my shoulders. Is this true, when I had to check how when something was not there a choice and do not have any excess moment. I stole a piece of loaf, slice of cheese, half a jar of filling for pie (adding to this evening my diet, I'm all tied up in a handkerchief), some brandy from earthenware □ LIASHKO (I poured it in a glass bottle that it secretly prepared in my room so strong drink as infusion of liquorice, and in that crock of fluid refilling any pitcher in the kitchen cupboard) bone, which almost remained meat and wonderful pork pie round . I'm actually leaving no paste, when tempted to look on the top shelf, in the very corner saw a clay bowl, carefully covered with a lid, and there was this pie. I also took it, reassuring ourselves with the thought that the pie is probably harvested at later and not rush him once.

From the kitchen door led straight to the smithy, I unlocked them, pushed back the bolt, and Joe found among the tools file. Then shut everything as it was, opened the front door through which he returned home last night, shut by themselves and ran to the swamp, covered by fog. [26]

In Section

The morning was foggy and very wet. More vdyahayuchys, I saw that the window was all zokola drip, as if some imp cried the whole night there, buried in the glass, like a handkerchief. Haze dense web of lying on Vitti hedges and sparse grass stretched from pussy to pussy from stem to stem. All gates and fences covered sticky mokrecha and the fog was so thick, that the wooden finger pointing on a column directed to our village - an indication of which none of the people did not take into account, but to no one never came - I noticed only once during the same column. When I looked at the finger from which skrapuvala water, my impure conscience, he seemed like a ghost that bringeth me into a floating prison.

The swamp fog was still oblohyishyy, until it seemed as if it does not I run forward, but rather everything that front is incident on me. From this my guilty soul prykrishe done yet. Sluices, dams and levee vyhoplyuvalys at me like fog and screaming yelling, "He stole pork pie! Catch him! "Just suddenly vyrynaly re di me vybalushenymy cow eyes and vydyhaly along with a pair of nostrils," Yeah, zlodiychuk? "One black bull with a white stripe on the neck - my conscience confused nahledilo it something like a pastor - piercing eyes stared at me, and so reproachfully shook his stupid head that I probelkotiv to him, "I am not guilty, sir! That I am not for myself! "In response to that, he bowed his head, released a cloud of steam from the nostrils, hvytsnuv hind legs and disappeared, waving his tail.

I ran towards the river, but no matter how quickly chased and legs could not warm - cold dank bound them like an iron hoop up a man at a meeting which I was in a hurry. I knew the way to the battery, on Sunday we were there together with Joe, and he was sitting on an old gun, telling me how marvelous it will be when I become his true legal apprentice. This morning I, however, due to fog took too right, so had a bit of returning back along the pebbles on the muddy river bank, where it was slain piles that held back the water at high tide. Chymduzh hurry, I got over the ditch, which was close to the battery, and just climbed the opposite [27] slope, saw a very close acquaintance. He sat on my back, rolled arms and swaying as if sleepy.

I thought it would be a nice surprise for him when I suddenly appear before him, having breakfast in their hands. And I barely touched the back of his shoulder as he sprang to his feet a moment. And it turned out that it was someone completely different!

However, it was the same simple gray robe, and he also had shackles on his leg, and nakulhuvav and wheezing, and everything else in the man's face just was not like the head and had a low hat with wide brim. Усе це я завважив за одну мить, бо рівно стільки його й бачив: він лайнувся на мене, замахнувсь рукою, але таким слабким безпорадним рухом, що мало сам не звалився з ніг, і чкурнув геть, двічі спіткнувся і зник у тумані.

«Це ж той молодик!» - промайнула у мене думка, і серце боляче забилося. У мене, мабуть, і печінка заболіла б, якби лише знаття, де вона міститься.

Ще трохи пробігши, я був уже на батареї. Там дожидав мого приходу мій знайомець: обхопивши себе руками, він шкутильгав туди й сюди, немов цілу ніч нічого іншого й не робив. Він страшенно змерз, це було видно. Я боявся, що він просто переді мною впаде на землю й вріже дуба з холоду. В очах у нього проступав дикий голод; коли я передав йому напилка, якого він поклав на траву, мені навіть здалося, що він спробував би його з'їсти, якби був не помітив мого вузлика. Цього разу він не став перевертати мене догори ногами, а дав змогу самому вивернути кишені й розв'язати вузлика.

- А що в пляшці, хлопче? - спитав він.

- Бренді,- відповів я.

Він тим часом уже наминав начинку для пирога, але так якось дивовижно, наче не стільки їв, скільки в шаленому поспіху квапився переховати її десь глибше, і передихнув лише тоді, коли мав сьорбнути бренді. Його всього так колотило, що він ледве не відгриз шийку пляшки, коли відкорковував її зубами.

- У вас, здається, гарячка,- сказав я.

- Та наче й справді, хлопче,- відказав він.

- Тут поганенька околиця,- зауважив я.- Ви лежали на цьому болотті, тож так недовго й гарячку підхопити. Або й ревматизм.

- Але поки вони мене звалять, я ще встигну перекусити,- сказав він.- Та хоч би навіть мене мали на он тій [28] шибениці почепити, я все 'дно мушу перше підкріпитись. І ніякі дрижаки мені не завадять, повір мені.

Він поглинав начинку, обгризав кістку, їв хліб, сир і пиріг, усе заразом, і водночас недовірливо косив очима в навколишній туман, і щохвилини на мить переставав їсти, і навіть не жував, наслухаючи. Щось дзвякне на річці чи форкне яке звіря на болоті, чи то причується йому що - він уже й здригнеться. Раптом він озвався:

- А ти не обдурюєш мене, бісеня? Нікого з собою не привів?

- Ні, пане! No!

- І нікому не сказав, щоб ішов за тобою?

- Ні!

- Що ж, я тобі вірю,- сказав він.- Паршивим був би ти щеням, коли б уже з такого малечку й собі став цькувати нещасного каторжника, і так зацькованого трохи не до смерті.

Щось булькнуло у нього в горлі, немов там усередині він мав годинника, який от-от почне вибивати. Але він тільки протер очі драним брудним рукавом.

Пройнявшись співчуттям до нього і дивлячись, як він нарешті допався до паштету, я насмілився зауважити:

- Я радий, що вам подобається.

- Ти щось сказав?

- Я сказав: я радий, що вам сподобалося.

- Дякую, хлопче. Таки правда.

Я не раз спостерігав, як наш собацюра їсть, і ось тепер згадав його, коли цей чоловік так пожадливо накинувся на їжу. Він відгризав її великими куснями, чисто мов собака. Не встигши пережувати, хапливо ковтав, вірніш, поглинав шматок за шматком і раз у раз оглядався на всі боки, боячись, щоб хтось не підскочив і не відібрав поживи. Мені здавалося, що в такій тривозі він і не розсмакує паштету як слід, а якби поруч об'явився ще котрийсь їдець, він неодмінно заклацав би на нього зубами. В усьому цьому він страшенно нагадував собаку.

- Tell the truth, sir. Ще й така повчальна для дітей,- озвався містер Вопсл - він тільки почав говорити, а я вже знав, що конче й мене сюди пришиють.

(- Ти слухай уважно! - на правах вставного слова суворо кинула мені сестра.)

Джо линув мені ще трохи підливи.

- Свиня,- провадив далі містер Вопсл своїм густим басом, спрямувавши виделку в бік моєї збентеженої особи, наче це він називав мене на ім'я.-- свиня товаришила блудному синові. Ненажерливість свині наводиться дітям як приклад недостойної поведінки.- (Я в цю хвилину подумав про те, що він сам тільки-но розхвалював свинину, яка вона жирна та соковита.) - Що гідне осуду в свині, те ще більш гідне осуду в хлопчакові.

- Або дівчинці,- докинув містер Габл.

- Звичайно, в дівчинці також, містере Габл,- досить терпко погодився містер Вопсл,- але дівчинки серед присутніх я не бачу.

- До того ж подумай,- раптом наскочив на мене містер Памблечук,- як багато ти завдячуєш своїй долі. Якби ти вродився верескливим поросям...

- З нього й було верескливе порося, таке, що куди там! - переконано заявила моя сестра.

Джо додав мені ще трохи підливи.

- Так, але я маю на увазі чотириноге порося,- уточнив містер Памблечук.- Якби ти вродився поросям, хіба ж сидів би зараз отут? Та нізащо!..

- Хіба що в такому ось вигляді,- сказав містер Вопсл, ш-шаючи на таріль серед столу.

- Але я, сер, не маю на увазі такого вигляду,- відрубав містер Памблечук, котрий дуже не любив, щоб його перебивали.- Я маю на увазі - чи сподобився 6 він честі перебувати в товаристві старших і кращих за кьогс людей, чи ж міг би він розвивати свій розум їхньою балачкою й купатися в розкошах? Я питаю: міг би чи ні? Ні» не міг би! 1к> яка ж була б тоді теоя життєва стезя? - Він знов обернувся до мене.- Тебе продали б за певку кількість шилінгів згідно з ринковою ціною на даний продукт, [36] і зізник Данстейбл підняв би тебе а соломи, де б ти не лсзкЕЗ; узяв би під ліву пахву, а правою рукою одвернув б я полз% дістаючи з кишені ножа, і чвиркнула б твоя кров, і настав би кінець твоєму життю, І ніхто б тебе не виховував власною рукою - на було б не віть натяку на це. Джо запропонував мені ще підливи, але я вже побоявся взяти.

- Стільки ж ви з ним натерпілися, пані,- співчутливо мовила місіс Габл до моєї сестри.

- Натерпілася? - луною повторила моя сестра.- Натерпілася? - І заходилась перелічувати всі ті незчисленні хвороби, в яких я завинив, усі ті напади безсоння, які я спричинив, усі ті дахи, з яких я падав, усі ті ями, в які я звалювався, всі ті ушкодження, яких я сам собі завдавав, усі ті випадки, коли вона благала у бога смерті для мене, а я вперто чіплявся за життя.

- And why would you give up, let me ask? - досить нецеремонно озвалась моя сестра, обурившись тим, що взагалі хтось там може потребувати коваля.

- Якщо говорити від мене особисто, пані,- відповів галантний сержант,- то задля того, щоб мати честь і приємність познайомитися з його симпатичною дружиною; від імені ж короля я скажу, що маю до нього невеличку справу.

Всім стало ясно, що язик у сержанта недаремно підвішено, а містер Памблечук навіть уголос це висловив: ♦Добре сказано!»

-• Бачите, ковалю,- сержант на цей час уже встиг вирізнити Джо з-посеред присутніх,- у нас трохи зіпсувалась оця штучка - замок не діє, і ланцюжок погано ходить. А що нам невдовзі треба буде скористатися нею, то ви вже прикиньте, яка тут причина.

Джо прикинув і сказав, що доведеться розпалювати горно і що робота забере, мабуть, години зо дві.

- Так? Ну, тоді зараз же й беріться,- рішуче заявив сержант,- бо це ім'ям його величності. А як вам потрібна буде поміч, мої хлопці до ваших послуг.

З цими словами він гукнув солдатів, що один за одним іїовїгодш'и в кухню і поставили в кутку свою зброю. Самі ж BOHKS як то ведеться серед солдатів, поставали хто склавши руки перед собою, хто зігнувши коліно чи спершись до стіни, і час від часу то поправляли ременя чи набійницю, то відхиляли двері й витягували здушену високим когліром пішо, щоб сплюнути на подвір'я.

Все це я бачив, наче в напівсні, бо був сам не свій зі страху. Але коли до мене стало доходити, що наручники призначені для когось іншого і що з появою солдатів паштет відступив на задній план, у голові моїй ледь-ледь проясніло,

- Чи не скажете часом, котра година? - звернувся сержант до містера Памблечука, вирішивши, що коли той знається на людях, то може знатись і на часі.

- Щойно минуло пів на третю.

- Нормально,- сказав сержант, трохи поміркувавши.-Навіть якщо доведеться забаритись дві години, це нічого. А далеко звідси до боліт? Не більш як миля, гадаю?

- Миля і є,- відповіла місіс Джо. [40]

- То й добре. Почнемо облаву на схилку дня. Перед самим смерком, такий наказ. Отже, все добре.

- Втікачі, сержанте? - діловито поцікавився містер Еопсл.

- Атож,- відповів сержант,- двоє. Оскільки відомо, вони ще на болотах і до смерку не спробують звідти в їбратись. Ніхто з вас нічого такого не помічав?

Усі, крім мене, цілком щиро відповіли, що ні. А спитати мене нікому й на думку не спало.

- Що ж,- мовив сержант,- вони й не здогадуються, що скоро опиняться е облозі. Ну, ковалю! Якщо ви готові, то його величність тим паче.

Оскільки була субота, господаря я застав похмуро втупленого в ці записи, проте мені потрібен був не він, а Джо, тож я тільки привітався до нього й пройшов коридором до зали в глибині приміщення, де у коминку яскраво палахкотів огонь і де Джо смалив свою люльку в товаристві містера Вопсла та якогось незнайомця. Джо зустрів мене звичним своїм: «Здоров, Піпе, друзяко!», і ледве промовив він ці слова, як незнайомець обернувся й подивився в мій бік.

Щось таємниче було в цьому чоловікові, якого я бачив уперше в житті. Голову він тримав схиленою набік, а одне око приплющене, наче цілився в щось з невидимої рушниці. У роті в нього була люлька; цю мить він вийняв її, повільно випустив дим, усе не відводячи від мене пильного погляду, і кивнув. Я теж кивнув, тоді він кивнув знову і посунувся на лавці, наче запрошуючи мене сісти поряд.

Але, маючи звичку сидіти поруч із Джо у цьому благословенному закладі, я тільки сказав: «Дякую, сер» - і присів на лавку навпроти, де Джо вже звільнив для мене місце. Незнайомець, глянувши на Джо і побачивши, що увага його заклопотана чимось іншим, кивнув мені ще раз, коли я вже сидів, і якось дуже дивно, як на мене, почухав ногу.

- Отже, ви сказали,- промовив незнайомець, обертаючись до Джо,- що ви коваль.

- Атож, так я й сказав,- підтвердив Джо.

- Ви що вип'єте, містере ... ? Ви, здається, не назвали свого імені.

Джо назвав його тепер, і незнайомець звернувся до нього вже на ім'я.

- Отже, ви що вип'єте, містере Гарджері? Я плачу. Так би мовити, на дорогу? [81]

- Та знаєте,- мовив Джо,- коли казати правду, то я не вельми охочий пити чужим коштом.

- Не вельми охочі? Нехай і так,- заперечив незнайомець,- але разок не зашкодить, тим паче суботнього вечора. Тож-бо вибирайте, містере Гарджері.

- Ну хіба що заради компанії,- сказав Джо.- Ром.

- Ром,- повторив незнайомець.- А що воліє другий добродій?

- Ром,- сказав містер Вопсл.

- Рому на трьох! - гукнув незнайомець господареві.- Три склянки!

- Цей другий добродій,- зауважив Джо, відрекомендовуючи містера Вопсла,- такий, що ви б його заслухались, якби почули. Це псаломник з нашої церкви.

- Он як,- хутко підхопив незнайомець і примружив до мене око.- 3 тієї церкви, що на відчепі край боліт, і могили навколо неї?

- Атож,- підтвердив Джо.

Незнайомець вдоволено прицмокнув люлькою і витяг ноги вздовж лавки, де тільки він і сидів. На ньому був дорожній капелюх з широкими обвислими крисами, а під капелюхом щільно пов'язана хустинка, через що волосся зовсім не було видно. Коли він дивився на вогонь, на обличчі у нього наче з'явився якийсь хитрий вираз, а потім напівприхований усміх.

- Я не бував у ваших краях, панове, але так здається, що у вас тут безлюдна місцевість ближче до річки.

- На болотах воно здебільше безлюддя,- підтвердив Джо.

- Звичайно, звичайно. А чи не трапляються тут які цигани або, скажімо, волоцюги чи то жебраки?

- Ні,- відповів Джо,- оце хіба що втікачі-каторжни-ки час від часу. Та на них не так і легко натрапити. Правда ж бо, містере Вопсл?

Містер Вопсл милостиво зволив кивнути головою, хоч і не надто захоплено, бо ж ці згадки не містили нічого втішного для нього.

- А вам, мабуть, доводилося їх ловити? - спитав незнайомець.

- Та раз було,- визнав Джо.- Воно-то, власне, ми й не ловили їх, а просто цікаво було подивитись, тож ми й пішли - містер Вопсл, Піп і я. Чи не так, Піпе?

- А так, Джо.

Незнайомець знову подивився на мене - усе ще мружачи [82] одне око, так ніби цілився зі своєї невидимої рушниці»- і сказав:

- Хлопчак він у вас наче нічого. Як ви його звете?

- Піп,- відповів Джо.

- Це що, його ім'я?

- Ні, не ім'я.

- То прізвище?

- Ні,- відповів Джо.- Це просто щось як прізвисько, він сам собі його дав малюком, так воно й прижилося.

- Це ваш син?

- Та, бачите...- задумливо протяг Джо - не тому, що тут було над чим думати, а тому, що у «Веселих Моряків» так годилося - глибокодумно розмірковувати з люлькою в зубах, незалежно про що йшлося.- Як вам сказати... Ні, Ні, не син.

- Небіж? - запитав незнайомець.

- Та, бачите...- промовив Джо все в такій самій поважній задумі.- Власне, ні. Правду кажучи, ні, не небіж.

- Тоді хто ж він вам, у лихої години? - вигукнув незнайомець, як мені здалося, з зовсім недоречною гарячковістю.

Годі й переказати, як дражливо відчував я каторжни-кове дихання не тільки потилицею, а й усією спиною. То було так, наче у спинний мозок мені просякала якась гостра ядуча отрута, від чого я навіть зуби зціпив. Здавалося, він дихає і частіше, ніж звичайні люди, і голосніше,- я аж відхилився набік, силкуючись якось уникнути цих його видихів.

Повітря просякло остудною вогкістю, і обидва каторжники стиха кляли негоду. Ще й не проїхали ми далеко, як нас огорнула дрімота, а коли позаду лишився заїзд «Напівдорозі», ми вже давно позамовкали й тільки дрібно тремтіли від холоднечі. Я теж задрімав, так і не додумавши до кінця, чи повернути цьому бідоласі два фунти стерлінгів, поки він тут поруч, і як краще це зробити. Гойднувшись уперед - чи не з наміром пірнути поміж коней,- я злякано прокинувся й знов заходився думати про те саме. M

Але я, мабуть, проспав довше, ніж гадав, бо хоч стояла темрява і в миготливому світлі наших ліхтарів нічого не можна було розрізнити, все ж таки холодний вогкий вітер уже доносив знайомий подих боліт. Каторжники, скулившись від холоду, присунулися майже впритул до моєї спини. Перші їхні слова, які я почув після того, як прочнувся, неначе вторували моїм думкам:

- Дві фунтові банкноти.

- Де він їх дістав? - спитав незнайомий мені каторжник. [230]

__ А відки я знаю! - відказав перший.- Мав сховані.

Від приятелів хіба.

- Ото б мені їх зараз,- сказав другий, лайнувши холоднечу.

- Гроші чи приятелів?

- Гроші! А всіх своїх приятелів я б і за фунта продав, і ще й заробив би на цьому. Ну й що ж він сказав?

- Та сказав,- повів далі мій знайомець.- Ми миттю все це облагодили за штабелем лісу на пристані. «Ти ж, мовляв, виходиш на волю?» - «Та виходжу»,- кажу. Тож він і попросив знайти хлопчиська, що нагодував його й не виказав, і дати йому ті дві фунтові банкноти. Я й погодився. І так і зробив.

- Бо дурень,- буркнув другий.- Я б собі їх забрав, проїв би й пропив. То він зелений, певне, був. І ти кажеш - до того він тебе й не знав?

- Зовсім не знав. Різні партії, на різних суднах. Його судили вдруге, за втечу з тюрми, вліпили довічне.

- Значить, тоді... А щоб його!.. Ото лиш тоді ти й бував у цих краях?

- Липі тоді.

- І яка ж тут місцина?

- Та препаскудна. Болота, драговина, мла, робота - і знов робота, мла, драговина, болота.

Вони обидва нещадно лайнули місцину, куди закинула їх доля, і, одвівши душу, змовкли.

Коли ми проїжджали через Геммерсміт, я показав їй [270] на будинок, де жив містер Метью Покет, і сказав, що це недалеко від Річмонда,- отже ми, напевно, зможемо часом бачитись.

- О так, ви бачитиметесь зі мною, ви зможете приїжджати, коли вам буде зручніше, про вас повідомлять у цей дім,- та вже досі й повідомили.

Я поцікавився, чи велика родина, в якій вона має оселитись.

- Ні, їх тільки двоє - мати й дочка. Мати - леді з певним положенням, як здається, хоч і не проти того, щоб заокруглити свої достатки.

- Дивно, що міс Гевішем так скоро погодилася знову розлучитися з вами.

- А це входить у плани міс Гевішем щодо мене, Піпе,- сказала Естелла, зітхнувши, наче дуже втомилась.- Я маю постійно писати до неї і регулярно її відвідувати й доповідати, як мені живеться - мені та її коштовностям, бо вони тепер майже всі перейшли до мене.

Це вперше вона назвала мене на ім'я. Звичайно, зроблено то було свідомо - вона знала, як я цим утішуся.

До Річмонда ми приїхали, як на мене, занадто швидко, і ось уже були біля мети нашої подорожі - старого, розміщеного над лугом масивного будинку, якому добре пам'ятні були фіжми, мушки й припудрені перуки, гаптовані камзоли, закочені панчохи, гофровані манжети й шпаги. Декілька старовинних дерев перед будинком і досі були ще підстрижені за давньою модою і неприродним виглядом своїм нагадували оті фіжми, перуки та бане-подібні спідниці, але вже недалеко була пора, коли вони мали зайняти приділені їм місця в процесії небіжчиків і тихо відійти в небуття. "

При місячному світлі старечо продзеленькотів дзвіночок, що свого часу, мабуть, не раз сповіщав: «Ось прибула зелена сукня з фіжмами... Ось меч з діамантовим руків'ям... Ось черевички з червоними підборами і синім солітером на пряжці...», і дві рожеволиці покоївки вибігли з дому зустрічати Естеллу. Невдовзі двері поглинули її скриньки, вона простягла мені руку й усміхнулась і попрощалася, а потім двері поглинули і її саму. А я все стояв і дивився на будинок і думав, яким би щасливим я був, живши там разом з Естеллою, хоч і знав, що ніколи не зазнаю з нею щастя, а тільки гостріш відчуваю своє безталання.

З тугою на серці сідав я у карету, яка мала відвезти мене назад до Геммерсміту, і поки доїхав, туга ця посилилася [271]] ще більше. Біля будинку містера Покета я перестрів маленьку Джейн, що в супроводі свого маленького кавалера поверталася з гостей, і навіть позаздрив тому її кавалерові, дарма що він був під наглядом Флопсон.

Якби ми менше зблизились, нас би щоранку неминуче проймала взаємна ненависть. В цю покутню пору наше помешкання здавалось мені гидким, як ніколи, а від Месникової лівреї мене просто вернуло, бо у жодну іншу хвилину дня й ночі я так виразно не бачив, як вона дорого нам обходиться і як мало від неї пожитку. Що глибше ми залазили в борги, то більш наш сніданок перетворювався на чисту формальність, і одного разу, одержавши саме вранці повідомлення (листом) про закладений на мене позов, «який має певну причетність», як сказали б у нашій провінційній газетці, «до коштовностей», я так знетямився, що у відповідь на зухвалу заяву Месника, ніби ми потребуємо булочки на снідання, схопив його за синій комір і щосили струсонув, аж він злетів у повітря, немов узутий в чоботи Купідон.

Через певні проміжки часу - точніше, через непевні, бо це залежало від настрою,- я, бувало, казав Гербертові, наче роблячи бозна-яке відкриття:

- Любий Герберте, справи наші кепські.

- Любий Піпе,- якнайщиріше вторив мені Герберт,- може, ти й не повіриш, але дивним збігом саме ці слова і я хотів тобі сказати!

- У такому разі, Герберте,- відповідав звичайно я,- - спробуймо докладніше їх з'ясувати.

Ми відчували велике задоволення, коли приймали таку Ухвалу. Оце було по-діловому, вважав я, ось так треба протистояти обставинам, ось так треба брати ворога за горло! Герберт, безперечно, був такої самої думки.

(13) Ллойд - заснована у XVII ет. англійська асоціація зі страхуван-, ня (головним чином морських суден). [275]

Щоб бути' на висоті поставлених завдань і належне підкріпитися перед цим нелегким випробуванням, замовляли на обід щось особливе з пляшкою чогось неї менш екстраординарного. Пообідавши, ми клали перед;! собою пучок пер, достатній запас писального паперу та: вимочок і ставили наповнені доверху чорнильниці. Це булої дуже заспокійливо - цілком забезпечитись канцелярсь-2 ким приладдям. :

Після цього я брав аркуш паперу і акуратно виводив^ угорі заголовок: «Реєстр Піпових боргів», під ним по-: значивши місце - «Барнардів заїзд»- і дату. Точнісінькб". так само робив і Герберт, беручись укладати «Реєстр-Гербертових боргів».

Потім кожен з нас вдавався до мішма накиданої купи папірців, повитягуваних з шухляд, протертих до дірок від тривалого перебування в кишенях, обгорілих від припалювання ними свічок, залежаних тижнями за дзеркалом або ще як інакше ушкоджених. Скрипіння наших пер неабияк нас підбадьорювало, і то до такої міри, що часом я приймав цю високоповчальну процедуру мало не за саму сплату боргів. В усякому разі, і те й те здавалося однаково похвальним.

Пописавши трохи, я запитував Герберта, як у нього посувається робота. Звичайно Герберт на цей час уже скрушно чухав потилицю, бачачи, як стовпчик цифр перед ним дедалі довшає.
Міс Гевішем нічого не відповіла - обхопивши голову руками й тихо стогнучи, вона погойдувалась на своєму кріслі.

- Або,- мовила далі Естелла,- і це буде ясніше - якби ви з самого її дитинства постійно й невідступно нав'язували думку, що денне світло існує, але що воно створене їй на шкоду й на згубу, і що вона повинна завжди уникати його, бо воно погубило вас і може погубити її, і якби після цього вам закортіло, щоб вона сприйняла денне світло, як щось нормальне, а вона не змогла б,- то ви б розчарувалися й образились?

Міс Гевішем сиділа й слухала (принаймні так мені здавалося, бо я не бачив її обличчя), але знову нічого не відповіла. [305]

- Що ж, якою мене зроблено, такою й беріть,- докінчила Естелла.- І успіху свого я не сама досягла, і хреста не сама на себе взяла - на це обставини мого життя склалися.

Я й не помітив, як це міс Гевішем опинилася долі, серед свого весільного стріп'я. Скориставшись цією хвилиною - мене вже давно поривало втекти звідси,- я вийшов з кімнати, після того як помахом руки попрохав Естеллу змилостивитись над старою жінкою. З порога я побачив, що Естелла все так само стоїть біля каміна, як і стояла. Сиве волосся міс Гевішем розтріпалося по підлозі всуміш з весільними лахманами, і вся вона була жалюгідною руїною.

Тяжко мені було на серці, коли я з годину чи й більше блукав під ясними зорями у дворі, навколо броварні, стежками занехаяного садка. Набравшись нарешті духу й вернувшись до кімнати, я побачив, що Естелла сидить біля ніг міс Гевішем і зшивав докупи одну з тих старих суконь, що розповзлись на клапті,- згодом я не раз згадував їх, коли дивився на вибляклі посмуги старих корогов, порозвішаних на стінах соборів. Того вечора я з Естеллою ще пограв, як бувало, у карти - тільки ми вже були мастаки і грали не в які, а у французькі ігри,- і так настала пора лягати спати.

Ранковим диліжансом я виїхав до Сатіс-Гаусу, взявши в кишеню записку міс Гевішем,- на випадок, якщо вона у своїй химерності висловить подив, чого я став туди учащати. Але на половині дороги я зліз біля заїзду, що так і називався «Напівдорозі», поснідав там і далі вже пройшов пішки, маючи намір прибути в місто непомітно, малолюдними загумінками, і так само й покинути його.

Найсвітліша денна пора вже минула, коли я проходив тихими лункими дворами поза Головною вулицею. Глушина довколишніх руїн давнього монастиря, де колись стояли трапезні й шуміли сади і де міцні ще стіни стали підпорами простацьким повіткам та стайням, була ледве чи менш німотною, ніж самі ченці в могилах. А соборний передзвін ніколи ще не здавався мені таким сумним і далеким, як тепер, коли я поспішав пройти, не привернувши нічиєї уваги; звуки старовинного органа звучали для мене як траурна музика, і граки, кружляючи біля сірої дзвіниці та погойдуючись на голому вітті високих дерев монастирського садка, неначе гукали мені, що все тут змінилося і що Естелла вже більш ніколи сюди не вернеться.

Хвіртку відімкнула літня жінка, яку я бачив і раніше,- одна із служниць, що мешкали у флігелі за двориком. У темному коридорі, як і колись, стояла запалена свічка, [389] і я взяв її й сам піднявся сходами. Міс Гевішем була не у своїй кімнаті, а в більшій, через площадинку. Оскільки на мій стукіт вона не озвалась, я заглянув у двері й побачив її на обшарпаному кріслі біля самого каміна, задумливо втупленою у напівпригаслий вогонь.

Я, як уже не раз бувало, увійшов і став при каміні, де міс Гевішем, підвівши погляд, зразу б мене побачила. Вона здавалась такою страшенно самотньою, що я пройнявся б до неї жалем, навіть якби вона зумисне заподіяла мені шкоду ще й більшу за ту, в якій я міг її звинуватити. Коли я так стояв, співчутливо дивлячись на неї і думаючи, що ось тепер і я став часткою руїни цього знедоленого дому, погляд її зупинився на мені. Вона здригнулась і тихо промовила:

- Це справді ти?

- Так, це я, Піп. Містер Джеггерс учора передав мені вашу записку, і я зразу ж приїхав.

- Дякую тобі. Thank you.

Я підсунув до каміна друге таке саме обшарпане крісло і, сівши, зауважив якийсь незвичайний вираз на її обличчі - так наче острах переді мною.

- Я хочу,- сказала вона,- вернутись до того питання, про яке ти згадував останнього разу, і показати тобі, що я не зовсім скам'яніла серцем. Але, може, ти вже ніколи тепер не повіриш, що в мені лишилися якісь людські риси?

Коли я промовив щось заспокійливе, вона простягла вперед тремтячу праву руку, немов хотіла доторкнутись до мене, але зараз же й відсмикнула, перше ніж я встиг зрозуміти її намір і якось до нього поставитись.

- Ти тоді говорив про свого друга, що, мовляв, ти можеш підказати мені, як зробити щось добре й корисне. Щось таке, що ти дуже хотів би, щоб воно було зроблено, так?

- Ще й як дуже хотів би!

- То що ж це таке?

У криках, що розлягались на пароплаві, у посвисті пари, у безупинному русі й судна, і шлюпки я спершу [437] не міг відрізнити неба від води й берега від берега, але веслярі швидко вирівняли шлюпку і, впевнено вивівши її вперед кількома сильними ударами, схилились над веслами, після чого стали мовчки й зосереджено вдивлятись у воду за кормою. Незабаром у воді з'явилось щось темне, течія несла його до нас. Ніхто не озвався, але стерновий підніс руку, і веслярі встромили весла впоперек течії, щоб човен повільніше зносило вниз. Коли темна цятка наблизилась, я побачив, що то Мег-віч і що пливе він над силу. Його втягли на борт і зразу ж закували йому руки й ноги.

Шлюпку вирівняли і знову стали мовчки й пильно приглядатися до річки. Але вже надходив роттердамсь-кий пароплав; там, звичайно, нічого не знали про пригоду,- судно йшло на повній швидкості. Даремно до нього гукали, щоб його зупинити,- невдовзі й цей пароплав став уже віддалятися, і ми залишилися самі на розбурханих хвилях річки. Потім усе стихло, й обидвох пароплавів не стало видно, але з шлюпки ще довго приглядалися до річки, хоч кожен розумів, що тепер це вже безнадійно.

Нарешті від марних чекань відмовились, і понад берегом попливли до того самого шинку, який ми недавно покинули і де нас сприйняли з немалим подивом. Тут я спромігся бодай дечим полегшити страждання Ме-гвіча - тепер уже не Провіса,- що досить серйозно забився грудьми й мав глибокий поріз на голові.

Він розповів мені, що, мабуть, опинився під кілем пароплава і, піднімаючись, стукнувся об днище головою. А грудьми він, здається, вдарився в борт шлюпки, через що йому тепер дуже боляче дихати. Мегвіч додав, що не може сказати, чи у нього були якісь певні наміри щодо Компесона, але коли він шарпнув його плаща, аби розпізнати негідника, той схопився з місця й відхилився назад, і вони обоє полетіли за борт; падаючи, він мимохіть штовхнув човна, а ще ж і поліцейський силкувався його не відпустити - отож тому човен і перекинувся. Пошепки він ще розповів мені, що вони пішли під воду, міцно вчепившись один в одного, і там, у глибині, сталася сутичка, і зрештою він випручався, вирвався й виплив.

Я не мав ніяких підстав піддавати сумніву його розповідь. Поліційний офіцер, що правив шлюпкою, приблизно так само змалював мені, як вони звалились у воду. [438]

Коли я попросив у офіцера дозволу поміняти мокру одежу заарештованого на якусь іншу, що знайшлася б на продаж у хазяїна шинку, він люб'язно погодився, обумовивши тільки, що мусить затримати у себе всі Мегвічеві речі. Таким чином колись передане мені портмоне опинилось у руках офіцера. Але він дозволив мені супроводити Мегвіча до Лондона, хоч Гербертові й Стар-топу в цьому відмовив.

Наймитові з «Корабля» показали, де загиблий упав у воду, і він обіцявся пошукати труп на березі в тих місцях, куди його найімовірніше мало б викинути. Зацікавленість наймита у пошуках особливо посилилась, коли він довідався, що загиблий мав на собі панчохи. На те, щоб одягти його з голови до ніг, пішло, мабуть, з кільканадцятеро потопельників; саме цим, мабуть, і пояснювалось, чому кожна деталь наймитового вбрання перебувала на іншій стадії руйнації.

У шинку ми лишалися, аж доки надвечір почався приплив; тоді Мегвіча знесли до причалу й поклали в шлюпку. Герберт і Стартоп мали добиратись до Лондона суходолом, як собі зможуть. Сумне було наше прощання, і я, сідаючи поруч з Мегвічем, відчув, що віднині до кінця його днів моє місце буде біля нього.

Бо моя відраза до Мегвіча тепер де й поділася, і в зацькованому, зраненому й закутому створінні, яке тримало мою руку в своїй, я бачив тільки людину, що прагнула бути мені доброчинцем і протягом двох довгих років ставилась до мене з незмінною любов'ю, відданістю й щедрістю. Я бачив у ньому тільки набагато кращу людину, аніж я сам був стосовно Джо.

Ближче до ночі його дихання погіршилось, і він часто не міг стриматися від стогону. Здоровою рукою я силкувався підтримувати його, але сам у душі, як це не прикро, зовсім не шкодував, що він тяжко поранився: швидка смерть була б для нього тільки порятунком. Я не сумнівався, що знайдеться достатньо живих людей, спроможних і охочих засвідчити його особу. Та й помилування йому дарма чекати: ще на суді його було виставлено у найгіршому світлі, а після того він утік з ув'язнення й був засуджений знову, тоді самовільно вернувся з довічного заслання і до того всього спричинив смерть людині, яка його вистежила.

Поки ми пливли в бік призахідного сонця, я сказав йому, як гнітить мою душу думка, що це ж через мене він повернувся на батьківщину. [439]

- Мій хлопче,- відповів він,- я зовсім не нарікаю на долю. Я ж усе-таки побачився з тобою, а джентльменом ти зможеш бути й без мене.

Але ні. Я вже думав про це, сидячи поруч з ним. No. Безвідносно до моїх власних нахилів, я тепер розумів, на що натякав Веммік. Оскільки Мегвіча засудять, все його майно перейде у державну скарбницю.

- Послухай-но сюди, мій хлопче,- сказав він.- Ти ж бо джентльмен, то не треба, аби люди тепер бачили, що ти водишся зі мною. Досить буде, як ти так ніби ненароком коли заглянеш сюди, наче по дорозі з Вемміком. А коли мене приведуть до присяги, це вже востаннє, ти сядь так, щоб мені було добре тебе видко, і більш нічого я не хочу.

- Я ніколи від вас не відійду,- заявив я,- я буду при вас весь час, скільки дозволять! Бог свідок, що я залишусь вірним вам так само, як ви були вірні мені!

Я відчув, як його рука у моїй затремтіла, і він одвернувся вбік, лежачи на дні човна, і знову з горла у нього почувся той самий булькотливий звук, тільки якийсь лагідніший, яким він і весь став віднедавна. Але добре, що він заговорив на цю тему й допоміг мені вчасно збагнути те, про що сам я здогадався б, можливо, запізно: ні в якому разі не можна було допустити, щоб він дізнався, що його надії зробити мене багатою людиною розсипалися на порох.

Розділ 55

Наступного дня Мегвіча приставили у поліційний суд і справу відразу передали б на розгляд, якби не треба було для підтвердження його особистості викликати старого наглядача, що служив на плавучій в'язниці, звідки Мегвіч колись був утік. Ніхто не сумнівався в його особі, але Компесона, що мав засвідчити це, носило мертвого десь на хвилях, а когось іншого з тюремних урядовців, котрий міг би дати необхідні свідчення, як на ту нагоду, не знайшлося у Лондоні. Я того ж дня, коли ми прибули до Лондона, сходив до містера Джеггерса додому, щоб упевнитись в його підтримці, і він пообіцяв не показувати проти заарештованого. Оце й усе, що можна було для нього зробити, [440] бо, як пояснив він мені, справу вирішать за п'ять хвилин, коли з'явиться свідок, і ніякі сили на землі не спромеж-ні змінити вирок на нашу користь.

- Я й не гадала, що, прощаючись із цим місцем, прощатимусь і з вами. Але я дуже цьому рада.

- Раді, що ми знов розлучимось, Естелло? Для мене розлука дуже болісна. Для мене згадка про наше тодішнє прощання назавжди повита сумом і болем.

- Але ви сказали мені,- вкрай серйозним тоном заперечила Естелла,- «Нехай вас господь благословить і простить!» І якщо тоді ви могли сказати мені ці слова, тим паче ви не завагаєтесь сказати їх і тепер - тепер, коли страждання, цей найпереконливіший за всіх учитель,n [476] навчило мене розуміти, що було у вашому серці. Життя гнуло мене й трощило, але, маю надію, зробило трохи кращою. Будьте ж до мене так само вибачливі й добрі, як тоді, і скажіть, що ми - друзі.

- Ми і є друзі,- сказав я, підводячись і допомагаючи їй підвестись.

- І залишимось друзями, навіть розпрощавшись, додала Естелла.

Я взяв її за руку, і ми покинули це пустище. 1, як ото колись давно ранковий туман знімався вгору, коли я покидав кузню, так тепер знімався вгору вечірній туман, і погідне місячне світло залило широкий простір навколо, і ніщо навіть не натякало на можливу нову розлуку з Естеллою.

© Aerius, 2004
Последние новости Луганск от Параллель-медиа. | эксклюзивный дизайн интерьера

_________________
The Flesh of Fallen Angels! Come to me all! Asteroth,

Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Bapholada, Lucifer, Loki, Satan,

Cthulhu, Lilith, Della! Blood, to you all!

I'm the wolf, yeah!
I am the wolf! It's close, it's coming. You have come.
The witness to the end, of time. It's now! I will rise to
her side! I don't need the words!
I'm beyond the words!
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