>> Tuesday, December 18, 2012
"All of them at once," said Bilbo.
"We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner!"
Far over the Misty Mountains cold,/To dungeons deep and caverns old,/We must away, ere break of day,/To seek the pale enchanted gold./The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,/While hammers fell like ringing bells,/In places deep, where dark things sleep,/In hollow halls beneath the fells./For ancient king and elvish lord/There many a gleaming golden hoard/They shaped and wrought, and light they caught,/To hide in gems on hilt of sword./On silver necklaces they strung/The flowering stars, on crowns they hung/The dragon-fire, on twisted wire/They meshed the light of moon and sun.
Trolls simply detest the very sight of dwarves (uncooked).
"Where did you go off to, if I may ask?" said Thorin to Gandalf as they rode along.
"To look ahead," said he.
"And what brought you back in the nick of time?"
"Looking behind," said he.
Even the good plans of wise wizards like Gandalf and of good friends like Elrond go astray sometimes when you are off on dangerous adventures over the Edge of the Wild; and Gandalf was a wise enough wizard to know it.
"Why, O why did I ever leave my hobbit-hole!" said poor Mr Baggins bumping up and down on Bombur's back.
He could hear the goblins beginning a horrible song: Fifteen birds in five firtrees,/their feathers were fanned in a fiery breeze!/But, funny little birds, they had no wings!/O what shall we do with the funny little things?/Roast 'em alive, or stew them in a pot;/fry them, boil them and eat them hot?
"A very good tale!" said he. "The best I have heard for a long while. If all beggars could tell such a good one, they might find me kinder. You may be making it all up, of course, but you deserve a supper for the story all the same."
"Breakfast!" he cried. "Where is breakfast?"
"Mostly inside us," answered the other dwarves who were moving about the hall; "but what is left is out on the veranda."