“Let me see your wonderful waistcoat of fine diamonds!”

“Yes, it is rare and wonderful, indeed,” said Smaug. The dragon rolled over. “Look!” he said. “What do you say to that?”

“Marvelous! Perfect! Flawless!” exclaimed Bilbo aloud, but he thought: “Old fool! There is a large hole on the left!” After that Mr Baggins decided to get away.

“Well, I really must not detain Your Magnificence any longer,” he said and ran up the tunnel.

It was evening when he came out. The dwarves wanted to hear his story. But the hobbit was worried and uncomfortable. The old thrush was sitting on a rock, listening to all that was said.

“I believe he is listening, and I don’t like the look of him,” said Bilbo crossly.

“Leave him alone!” said Thorin. “The thrushes are good and friendly. They were a magical race, and maybe this is one of those that were alive a couple of hundreds years or more ago. The Men of Dale used to understand their language, and used them for messengers to fly to the Men of the Lake.”

“Well, he’ll have news to take to Lake-town then,” said Bilbo; “but I don’t think there are any people left there that understand thrush-language.”

“Tell us what has happened!” cried the dwarves.

So Bilbo told them all he could remember.

“I am sure he knows that we came from Lake-town and had help from there,” added Bilbo.

Then the talk turned to the treasures of the dwarves. The most beautiful of all was the great white gem, which the dwarves had found beneath the roots of the Mountain, the Heart of the Mountain, the Arkenstone of Thrain. “The Arkenstone! The Arkenstone!” murmured Thorin in the dark. “It shone like silver in the firelight, like water in the sun, like snow under the stars!”

But Bilbo was only half listening to them.

“Shut the door!” he begged the dwarves. “Shut the door before it is too late!” Something in his voice gave the dwarves an uncomfortable feeling. Slowly Thorin kicked away the stone that blocked the door. Then it closed with a snap. No trace of a keyhole was left on the inside. They were shut in the Mountain!

Just then they heard a blow. The rock boomed, the walls cracked and stones fell from the roof on their heads. They ran down the tunnel, while behind them outside they heard the roar and rumble of Smaug’s fury. He was breaking rocks to pieces, smashing wall and cliff. In this way he felt better.

Then Smaug went away towards the Running River.

Meanwhile, the dwarves silently sat in darkness. They ate and spoke little. At last after days and days of waiting, as it seemed, Thorin spoke:

“Let us try the door!” he said. “I must feel the wind on my face soon or die.”

So several of the dwarves got up and walked back to where the door had been. But they found that broken rock had blocked the upper end of the tunnel.

“We are trapped!” they cried. “This is the end. We will die here.”

“Come, come!” [92] Bilbo said. “Don’t despair! I am going down the tunnel once again. The only way out is down. And I think that you all should come with me.” The dwarves agreed.

“Now please be careful!” whispered the hobbit, “and quiet! Don’t let us take any unnecessary risks!”

Down, down they went. Near the bottom Bilbo slipped on his ring and went ahead. But he did not need it: the darkness was complete, and they were all invisible, anyway. The hobbit came to the opening unexpectedly, put his hand on air, stumbled forward, and rolled into the hall! There he lay on the floor and was afraid to get up. But nothing moved. There was not a gleam of light. When at last he slowly raised his head, there was a pale white shine, above him and far off in the gloom. But certainly it was not a spark of dragon-fire.

Bilbo got up, and found that he did not know in what direction to turn. “I am sure Smaug is not at home today. Perhaps we can make a little light, and have a look round,” he thought.

“Light!” he cried. “Can anybody make a light?”

After a while the dwarves brought the torch. But they decided to wait in the tunnel for Bilbo’s report. So they sat near the door and watched.

Bilbo was climbing the great mound of treasure. Soon he stood upon the top, and still went on. Then they saw him stop for a moment; but they did not know the reason. It was the Arkenstone, the Heart of the Mountain. So Bilbo guessed from Thorin’s description. All the time as he climbed, the same white gleam had shone before him. Now the great jewel shone with magnificent light right before his feet.

Suddenly Bilbo lifted it, shut his eyes, and put it in his deepest pocket.

“Now I am a burglar indeed!” thought he. “But I suppose I must tell the dwarves about it – some time.” Down the other side of the great mound he climbed, and the spark of his torch vanished from the sight of the watching dwarves. But soon they saw it far away in the distance again. Bilbo was crossing the floor of the hall.

He went on, until he came to the great doors at the further side, and there a draught of air refreshed him, but it almost put out his light. He peeped carefully through and saw wide stairs going up into the gloom. And still there was no sound of Smaug. He was just going to turn and go back, when a black shape swooped at him. He fell. His torch dropped and went out! “It’s only a bat, I hope!” he thought.