Tolkien, J R R - The Hobbit

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Dzhon Ronal'd Ruel Tolkien. Hobbit

In this reprint several minor inaccuracies, most of them noted by

readers, have been corrected. For example, the text on pages 32 and 62 now

corresponds exactly with the runes on Thror's Map. More important is the

matter of Chapter Five. There the true story of the ending of the Riddle

Game, as it was eventually revealed (under pressure) by Bilbo to Gandalf, is

now given according to the Red Book, in place of the version Bilbo first

gave to his friends, and actually set down in his diary. This departure from

truth on the part of a most honest hobbit was a portent of great

significance. It does not, however, concern the present story, and those who

in this edition make their first acquaintance with hobbit-lore need not

troupe about it. Its explanation lies in the history of the Ring, as it was

set out in the chronicles of the Red Book of Westmarch, and is now told in

The Lord of the Rings.

A final note may be added, on a point raised by several students of the

lore of the period. On Thror's Map is written Here of old was Thrain King

under the Mountain; yet Thrain was the son of Thror, the last King under the

Mountain before the coming of the dragon. The Map, however, is not in error.

Names are often repeated in dynasties, and the genealogies show that a

distant ancestor of Thror was referred to, Thrain I, a fugitive from Moria,

who first discovered the Lonely Mountain, Erebor, and ruled there for a

while, before his people moved on to the remoter mountains of the North.

Chapter I. An Unexpected Party

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet

hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare,

sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a

hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.

It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a

shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a

tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke,

with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished

chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats - the hobbit was fond

of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight

into the side of the hill - The Hill, as all the people for many miles round

called it - and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side

and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms,

cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to

clothes), kitchens, dining-rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on

the same passage. The best rooms were all on the left-hand side (going in),

for these were the only ones to have windows, deep-set round windows looking

over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river.

This hobbit was a very well-to-do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The

Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind,

and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them

were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything

unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without

the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure,

found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have

lost the neighbours' respect, but he gained-well, you will see whether he

gained anything in the end.

The mother of our particular hobbit ... what is a hobbit? I suppose

hobbits need some description nowadays, since they have become rare and shy

of the Big People, as they call us. They are (or were) a little people,

about half our height, and smaller than the bearded Dwarves. Hobbits have no

beards. There is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday

sort which helps them to disappear quietly and quickly when large stupid

folk like you and me come blundering along, making a noise like elephants

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which they can hear a mile off. They are inclined to be at in the stomach;

they dress in bright colours (chiefly green and yellow); wear no shoes,

because their feet grow natural leathery soles and thick warm brown hair

like the stuff on their heads (which is curly); have long clever brown

fingers, good-natured faces, and laugh deep fruity laughs (especially after

dinner, which they have twice a day when they can get it). Now you know

enough to go on with. As I was saying, the mother of this hobbit - of Bilbo

Baggins, that is - was the fabulous Belladonna Took, one of the three

remarkable daughters of the Old Took, head of the hobbits who lived across

The Water, the small river that ran at the foot of The Hill. It was often

said (in other families) that long ago one of the Took ancestors must have

taken a fairy wife. That was, of course, absurd, but certainly there was

still something not entirely hobbit-like about them, - and once in a while

members of the Took-clan would go and have adventures. They discreetly

disappeared, and the family hushed it up; but the fact remained that the

Tooks were not as respectable as the Bagginses, though they were undoubtedly

richer. Not that Belladonna Took ever had any adventures after she became

Mrs. Bungo Baggins. Bungo, that was Bilbo's father, built the most luxurious

hobbit-hole for her (and partly with her money) that was to be found either

under The Hill or over The Hill or across The Water, and there they remained

to the end of their days. Still it is probable that Bilbo, her only son,

although he looked and behaved exactly like a second edition of his solid

and comfortable father, got something a bit queer in his makeup from the

Took side, something that only waited for a chance to come out. The chance

never arrived, until Bilbo Baggins was grown up, being about fifty years old

or so, and living in the beautiful hobbit-hole built by his father, which I

have just described for you, until he had in fact apparently settled down

immovably.

By some curious chance one morning long ago in the quiet of the world,

when there was less noise and more green, and the hobbits were still

numerous and prosperous, and Bilbo Baggins was standing at his door after

breakfast smoking an enormous long wooden pipe that reached nearly down to

his woolly toes (neatly brushed) - Gandalf came by. Gandalf! If you had

heard only a quarter of what I have heard about him, and I have only heard

very little of all there is to hear, you would be prepared for any sort I of

remarkable tale. Tales and adventures sprouted up all over the place

wherever he went, in the most extraordinary fashion. He had not been down

that way under The Hill for ages and ages, not since his friend the Old Took

died, in fact, and the hobbits had almost forgotten what he looked like. He

had been away over The Hill and across The Water on business of his own

since they were all small hobbit-boys and hobbit-girls.

All that the unsuspecting Bilbo saw that morning was an old man with a

staff. He had a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, a silver scarf

over which a white beard hung down below his waist, and immense black boots.

"Good morning!" said Bilbo, and he meant it. The sun was shining, and

the grass was very green. But Gandalf looked at him from under long bushy

eyebrows that stuck out further than the brim of his shady hat. "What do you

mean?" be said. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good

morning whether I want not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it

is morning to be good on?"

"All of them at once," said Bilbo. "And a very fine morning for a pipe

of tobacco out of doors, into the bargain. If you have a pipe about you, sit

down and have a fill of mine! There's no hurry, we have all the day before

us!" Then Bilbo sat down on a seat by his door, crossed his legs, and blew

out a beautiful grey ring of smoke that sailed up into the air without

breaking and floated away over The Hill.

"Very pretty!" said Gandalf. "But I have no time to blow smoke-rings

this morning. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am

arranging, and it's very difficult to find anyone."

"I should think so - in these parts! We are plain quiet folk and have

no use for adventures. Nasty .disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late

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for dinner! I can't think what anybody sees in them," said our Mr. Baggins,

and stuck one thumb behind his braces, and blew out another even bigger

smoke-ring. Then he took out his morning letters, and begin to read,

pretending to take no more notice of the old man. He had decided that he was

not quite his sort, and wanted him to go away. But the old man did not move.

He stood leaning on his stick and gazing at the hobbit without saying

anything, till Bilbo got quite uncomfortable and even a little cross.

"Good morning!" he said at last. "We don't want any adventures here,

thank you! You might try over The Hill or across The Water." By this he

meant that the conversation was at an end.

"What a lot of things you do use Good morning for!" said Gandalf. "Now

you mean that you want to get rid of me, and that it won't be good till I

move off."

"Not at all, not at all, my dear sir! Let me see, I don't think I know

your name?"

"Yes, yes, my dear sir - and I do know your name, Mr. Bilbo Baggins.

And you do know my name, though you don't remember that I belong to it. I am

Gandalf, and Gandalf means me! To think that I should have lived to be

good-morninged by Belladonna Took's son, as if I was selling buttons at the

door!"

"Gandalf, Gandalf! Good gracious me! Not the wandering wizard that gave

Old Took a pair of magic diamond studs that fastened themselves and never

came undone till ordered? Not the fellow who used to tell such wonderful

tales at parties, about dragons and goblins and giants and the rescue of

princesses and the unexpected luck of widows' sons? Not the man that used to

make such particularly excellent fireworks! I remember those! Old Took used

to have them on Midsummer's Eve. Splendid! They used to go up like great

lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire and hang in the twilight all

evening!" You will notice already that Mr. Baggins was not quite so prosy as

he liked to believe, also that he was very fond of flowers. "Dear me!" she

went on. "Not the Gandalf who was responsible for so many quiet lads and

lasses going off into the Blue for mad adventures. Anything from climbing

trees to visiting Elves - or sailing in ships, sailing to other shores!

Bless me, life used to be quite inter - I mean, you used to upset things

badly in these parts once upon a time. I beg your pardon, but I had no idea

you were still in business."

"Where else should I be?" said the wizard. "All the same I am pleased

to find you remember something about me. You seem to remember my fireworks

kindly, at any rate, land that is not without hope. Indeed for your old

grand-father Took's sake, and for the sake of poor Belladonna, I will give

you what you asked for."

"I beg your pardon, I haven't asked for anything!"

"Yes, you have! Twice now. My pardon. I give it you. In fact I will go

so far as to send you on this adventure. Very amusing for me, very good for

you and profitable too, very likely, if you ever get over it."

"Sorry! I don't want any adventures, thank you. Not today. Good

morning! But please come to tea - any time you like! Why not tomorrow? Come

tomorrow! Good-bye!"

With that the hobbit turned and scuttled inside his round green door,

and shut it as quickly as he dared, not to seen rude. Wizards after all are

wizards.

"What on earth did I ask him to tea for!" he said to him-self, as he

went to the pantry. He had only just had break fast, but he thought a cake

or two and a drink of something would do him good after his fright. Gandalf

in the meantime was still standing outside the door, and laughing long but

quietly. After a while he stepped up, and with the spike of his staff

scratched a queer sign on the hobbit's beautiful green front-door. Then he

strode away, just about the time when Bilbo was finishing his second cake

and beginning to think that he had escape adventures very well.

The next day he had almost forgotten about Gandalf He did not remember

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things very well, unless he put them down on his Engagement Tablet: like

this: Gandalf '¥a Wednesday. Yesterday he had been too flustered to do

anything of the kind. Just before tea-time there came a tremendous ring on

the front-door bell, and then he remembered! He rushed and put on the

kettle, and put out another cup and saucer and an extra cake or two, and ran

to the door.

"I am so sorry to keep you waiting!" he was going to say, when he saw

that it was not Gandalf at all. It was a dwarf with a blue beard tucked into

a golden belt, and very bright eyes under his dark-green hood. As soon a the

door was opened, he pushed inside, just as if he had been expected.

He hung his hooded cloak on the nearest peg, and "Dwalin at your

service!" he said with a low bow.

"Bilbo Baggins at yours!" said the hobbit, too surprised to ask any

questions for the moment. When the silence that followed had become

uncomfortable, he added: "I am just about to take tea; pray come and have

some with me." A little stiff perhaps, but he meant it kindly. And what

would you do, if an uninvited dwarf came and hung his things up in your hall

without a word of explanation?

They had not been at table long, in fact they had hardly reached the

third cake, when there came another even louder ring at the bell.

"Excuse me!" said the hobbit, and off he went to the door.

"So you have got here at last!" was what he was going to say to Gandalf

this time. But it was not Gandalf. Instead there was a very old-looking

dwarf on the step with a white beard and a scarlet hood; and he too hopped

inside as soon as the door was open, just as if he had been invited.

"I see they have begun to arrive already," he said when he caught sight

of Dwalin's green hood hanging up. He hung his red one next to it, and

"Balin at your service!" he said with his hand on his breast.

"Thank you!" said Bilbo with a gasp. It was not the correct thing to

say, but they have begun to arrive had flustered him badly. He liked

visitors, but he liked to know them before they arrived, and he preferred to

ask them himself. He had a horrible thought that the cakes might run short,

and then he-as the host: he knew his duty and stuck to it however painful-he

might have to go without.

"Come along in, and have some tea!" he managed to say after taking a

deep breath.

"A little beer would suit me better, if it is all the same to you, my

good sir," said Balin with the white beard. "But I don't mind some

cake-seed-cake, if you have any."

"Lots!" Bilbo found himself answering, to his own surprise; and he

found himself scuttling off, too, to the cellar to fill a pint beer-mug, and

to the pantry to fetch two beautiful round seed-cakes which he had baked

that afternoon for his after-supper morsel.

When he got back Balin and Dwalin were talking at the table like old

friends (as a matter of fact they were brothers). Bilbo plumped down the

beer and the cake in front of them, when loud came a ring at the bell again,

and then another ring.

"Gandalf for certain this time," he thought as he puffed along the

passage. But it was not. It was two more dwarves, both with blue hoods,

silver belts, and yellow beards; and each of them carried a bag of tools and

a spade. In they hopped, as soon as the door began to open-Bilbo was hardly

surprised at all.

"What can I do for you, my dwarves?" he said. "Kili at your service!"

said the one. "And Fili!" added the other; and they both swept off their

blue hoods and bowed.

"At yours and your family's!" replied Bilbo, remembering his manners

this time.

"Dwalin and Balin here already, I see," said Kili. "Let us join the

throng!"

"Throng!" thought Mr. Baggins. "I don't like the sound of that. I

really must sit down for a minute and collect my wits, and have a drink." He

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had only just had a sip-in the corner, while the four dwarves sat around the

table, and talked about mines and gold and troubles with the goblins, and

the depredations of dragons, and lots of other things which he did not

understand, and did not want to, for they sounded much too adventurous-when,

ding-dong-a-ling-' dang, his bell rang again, as if some naughty little

hobbit-boy was trying to pull the handle off. "Someone at the door!" he

said, blinking. "Some four, I should say by the sound," said Fili.

"Be-sides, we saw them coming along behind us in the distance."

The poor little hobbit sat down in the hall and put his head in his

hands, and wondered what had happened, and what was going to happen, and

whether they would all stay to supper. Then the bell rang again louder than

ever, and he had to run to the door. It was not four after all, t was FIVE.

Another dwarf had come along while he was wondering in the hall. He had

hardly turned the knob, be-x)re they were all inside, bowing and saying "at

your service" one after another. Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, and Gloin were their

names; and very soon two purple hoods, a grey hood, a brown hood, and a

white hood were hanging on the pegs, and off they marched with their broad

hands stuck in their gold and silver belts to join the others. Already it

had almost become a throng. Some called for ale, and some for porter, and

one for coffee, and all of them for cakes; so the hobbit was kept very busy

for a while.

A big jug of coffee bad just been set in the hearth, the seed-cakes

were gone, and the dwarves were starting on a round of buttered scones, when

there came-a loud knock. Not a ring, but a hard rat-tat on the hobbit's

beautiful green door. Somebody was banging with a stick!

Bilbo rushed along the passage, very angry, and altogether bewildered

and bewuthered-this was the most awkward Wednesday he ever remembered. He

pulled open the door with a jerk, and they all fell in, one on top of the

other. More dwarves, four more! And there was Gandalf behind, leaning on his

staff and laughing. He had made quite a dent on the beautiful door; he had

also, by the way, knocked out the secret mark that he had put there the

morning before.

"Carefully! Carefully!" he said. "It is not like you, Bilbo, to keep

friends waiting on the mat, and then open the door like a pop-gun! Let me

introduce Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and especially Thorin!"

"At your service!" said Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur standing in a row.

Then they hung up two yellow hoods and a pale green one; and also a sky-blue

one with a long silver tassel. This last belonged to Thorin, an enormously

important dwarf, in fact no other than the great Thorin Oakenshield himself,

who was not at all pleased at falling flat on Bilbo's mat with Bifur, Bofur,

and Bombur on top of him. For one thing Bombur was immensely fat and heavy.

Thorin indeed was very haughty, and said nothing about service; but poor Mr.

Baggins said he was sorry so many times, that at last he grunted "pray don't

mention it," and stopped frowning.

"Now we are all here!" said Gandalf, looking at the row of thirteen

hoods-the best detachable party hoods-and his own hat hanging on the pegs.

"Quite a merry gathering!

I hope there is something left for the late-comers to eat and drink!

What's that? Tea! No thank you! A little red wine, I think, for me." "And

for me," said Thorin. "And raspberry jam and apple-tart," said Bifur. "And

mince-pies and cheese," said Bofur. "And pork-pie and salad," said Bombur.

"And more cakes-and ale-and coffee, if you don't mind," called the other

dwarves through the door.

"Put on a few eggs, there's a good fellow!" Gandalf called after him,

as the hobbit stumped off to the pantries. "And just bring out the cold

chicken and pickles!"

"Seems to know as much about the inside of my larders as I do myself!"

thought Mr. Baggins, who was feeling positively flummoxed, and was beginning

to wonder whether a most wretched adventure had not come right into his

house. By the time he had got all the bottles and dishes and knives and

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file:///F|/rah/J.R.R.%20Tolkien/Hobbit,%20The.txtDzhonRonal'dRuelTolkien.HobbitInthisreprintseveralminorinaccuracies,mostofthemnoted\byreaders,havebeencorrected.Forexample,thetextonpages32and62\nowcorrespondsexactlywiththerunesonThror'sMap.Moreimportantis\thematterofChapterFive.Therethetruestoryofth...

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Tolkien, J R R - The Hobbit

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