The Hobbit, Ebooki
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John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
The Hobbit
Chapter 1
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 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 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 things
very well, unless he put them down on his Engagement Tablet: like this: Gandalf '
ʥ
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 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, it 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 forks and glasses and plates and spoons
and things piled up on big trays, he was getting very hot, and red in the face, and
annoyed.
"Confusticate and bebother these dwarves!" he said aloud. "Why don't they come
and lend a hand?" Lo and behold! there stood Balin and Dwalin at the door of the kitchen,
and Fili and Kili behind them, and before he could say knife they had whisked the
trays and a couple of small tables into the parlour and set out everything afresh.
Gandalf sat at the head of the party with the thirteen, dwarves all round:
and Bilbo sat on a stool at the fireside, nibbling at a biscuit (his appetite was
quite taken away), and trying to look as if this was all perfectly ordinary and. not
in the least an adventure. The dwarves ate and ate, and talked and talked, and time
got on. At last they pushed their chairs back, and Bilbo made a move to collect the
plates and glasses.
"I suppose you will all stay to supper?" he said in his politest unpressing
tones. "Of course!" said Thorin. "And after. We shan't get through the business till
late, and we must have some music first. Now to clear up!"
Thereupon the twelve dwarves-not Thorin, he was too important, and stayed
talking to Gandalf-jumped to their feet and made tall piles of all the things. Off
they went, not waiting for trays, balancing columns of plates, each with a bottle
on the top, with one hand, while the hobbit ran after them almost squeaking with fright:
"please be careful!" and "please, don't trouble! I can manage." But the dwarves only
started to sing:
_Chip the glasses and crack the plates!
Blunt the knives and bend the forks!
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates-
Smash the bottles and burn the corks!
Cut the cloth and tread on the fat!
Pour the milk on the pantry floor!
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!
Splash the wine on every door!
Dump the crocks in a boiling bawl;
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