The Hobbit

bodyguard of Bolg. But he could not pierce their ranks.
    Already behind him among the goblin dead lay many men and many dwarves, and many a fair elf that should have lived yet long
     ages merrily in the wood. And as the valley widened his onset grew ever slower. His numbers were too few. His flanks were
     unguarded. Soon the attackers were attacked, and they were forced into a great ring, facing every way, hemmed all about with
     goblins and wolves returning to the assault. The bodyguard of Bolg came howling against them, and drove in upon their ranks
     like waves upon cliffs of sand. Their friends could not help them, for the assault from the Mountain was renewed with redoubled
     force, and upon either side men and elves were being slowly beaten down.
    On all this Bilbo looked with misery. He had taken his stand on Ravenhill among the Elves—partly because there was more chance
     of escape from that point, and partly (with the more Tookish part of his mind) because if he was going to be in a last desperate
     stand, he preferred on the whole to defend the Elvenking. Gandalf, too, I may say, was there, sitting on the ground as if
     in deep thought, preparing, I suppose, some last blast of magic before the end.
    That did not seem far off. “It will not be long now,” thought Bilbo, “before the goblins win the Gate, and we are all slaughtered
     or driven down and captured. Really it is enough to make one weep, after all one has gone through. I would rather old Smaug
     had been left with all the wretched treasure, than that these vile creatures should get it, and poor old Bombur, and Balin
     and Fili and Kili and all the rest come to a bad end; and Bard too, and the Lake-men and the merry elves. Misery me! I have heard songs of many battles, and
     I have always understood that defeat may be glorious. It seems very uncomfortable, not to say distressing. I wish I was well
     out of it.”
    The clouds were torn by the wind, and a red sunset slashed the West. Seeing the sudden gleam in the gloom Bilbo looked round.
     He gave a great cry: he had seen a sight that made his heart leap, dark shapes small yet majestic against the distant glow.
    “The Eagles! The Eagles!” he shouted. “The Eagles are coming!”
    Bilbo’s eyes were seldom wrong. The eagles were coming down the wind, line after line, in such a host as must have gathered
     from all the eyries of the North.
    “The Eagles! the Eagles!” Bilbo cried, dancing and waving his arms. If the elves could not see him they could hear him. Soon
     they too took up the cry, and it echoed across the valley. Many wondering eyes looked up, though as yet nothing could be seen
     except from the southern shoulders of the Mountain.
    “The Eagles!” cried Bilbo once more, but at that moment a stone hurtling from above smote heavily on his helm, and he fell
     with a crash and knew no more.

Chapter
XVIII
THE RETURN JOURNEY
    When Bilbo came to himself, he was literally by himself. He was lying on the flat stones of Ravenhill, and no one was near.
     A cloudless day, but cold, was broad above him. He was shaking, and as chilled as stone, but his head burned with fire.
    “Now I wonder what has happened?” he said to himself. “At any rate I am not yet one of the fallen heroes; but I suppose there
     is still time enough for that!”
    He sat up painfully. Looking into the valley he could see no living goblins. After a while as his head cleared a little, he
     thought he could see elves moving in the rocks below. He rubbed his eyes. Surely there was a camp still in the plain some
     distance off; and there was a coming and going about the Gate? Dwarves seemed to be busy removing the wall. But all was deadly
     still. There was no call and no echo of a song. Sorrow seemed to be in the air.
    “Victory after all, I suppose!” he said, feeling his aching head. “Well, it seems a very gloomy business.”
    Suddenly he was aware of a man climbing up and coming towards him.
    “Hullo there!” he called with a shaky voice. “Hullo there! What news?”
    “What voice is it that speaks among the stones?” said the man halting and peering about him not far from where Bilbo sat.
    Then Bilbo remembered his ring! “Well I’m blessed!” said he. “This invisibility has its drawbacks after all. Otherwise I suppose
     I might have spent a warm and comfortable night in bed!”
    “It’s me, Bilbo Baggins, companion of Thorin!” he cried, hurriedly taking off the ring.
    “It is well that I