The Hobbit

this way and that as he looked for the stones, and they followed his lead, but they seemed no nearer
to the end of the search when the day began to fail. Tea-time had long gone by, and it seemed supper-time would soon do the
same. There were moths fluttering about, and the light became very dim, for the moon had not risen. Bilbo’s pony began to
stumble over roots and stones. They came to the edge of a steep fall in the ground so suddenly that Gandalf’s horse nearly
slipped down the slope.
    “Here it is at last!” he called, and the others gathered round him and looked over the edge. They saw a valley far below.
They could hear the voice of hurrying water in a rocky bed at the bottom; the scent of trees was in the air; and there was a light on the valley-side across the water.
    Bilbo never forgot the way they slithered and slipped in the dusk down the steep zig-zag path into the secret valley of Rivendell.
The air grew warmer as they got lower, and the smell of the pine-trees made him drowsy, so that every now and again he nodded
and nearly fell off, or bumped his nose on the pony’s neck. Their spirits rose as they went down and down. The trees changed
to beech and oak, and there was a comfortable feeling in the twilight. The last green had almost faded out of the grass, when
they came at length to an open glade not far above the banks of the stream.
    “Hmmm! it smells like elves!” thought Bilbo, and he looked up at the stars. They were burning bright and blue. Just then there
came a burst of song like laughter in the trees:
    O! What are you doing,
    And where are you going?
    Your ponies need shoeing!
    The river is flowing!
        O! tra-la-la-lally
            here down in the valley!
    O! What are you seeking,
    And where are you making?
    The faggots are reeking,
    The bannocks are baking!
        O! tril-lil-lil-lolly
            the valley is jolly,
                ha! ha!
    O! Where are you going
    With beards all a-wagging?
    No knowing, no knowing
    What brings Mister Baggins
        And Balin and Dwalin
            down into the valley
                in June
                    ha! ha!
    O! Will you be staying,
    Or will you be flying?
    Your ponies are straying!
    The daylight is dying!
    To fly would be folly,
    To stay would be jolly
        And listen and hark
            Till the end of the dark
                to our tune
                    ha! ha!
    So they laughed and sang in the trees; and pretty fair nonsense I daresay you think it. Not that they would care; they would
only laugh all the more if you told them so. They were elves of course. Soon Bilbo caught glimpses of them as the darkness
deepened. He loved elves, though he seldom met them; but he was a little frightened of them too. Dwarves don’t get on well
with them. Even decent enough dwarves like Thorin and his friends think them foolish (which is a very foolish thing to think),
or get annoyed with them. For some elves tease them and laugh at them, and most of all at their beards.
    “Well, well!” said a voice. “Just look! Bilbo the hobbit on a pony, my dear! Isn’t it delicious!”
    “Most astonishing wonderful!”
    Then off they went into another song as ridiculous as the one I have written down in full. At last one, a tall young fellow,
came out from the trees and bowed to Gandalf and to Thorin.
    “Welcome to the valley!” he said.
    “Thank you!” said Thorin a bit gruffly; but Gandalf was already off his horse and among the elves, talking merrily with them.
    “You are a little out of your way,” said the elf: “that is, if you are making for the only path across the water and to the
house beyond. We will set you right, but you had best get on foot, until you are over the bridge. Are you going to stay a
bit and sing with us, or will you go straight on? Supper is preparing over there,” he said. “I can smell the wood-fires for
the cooking.”
    Tired as he was, Bilbo would have liked to stay a while. Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars, not
if you care for such things. Also he would have liked to have a few private words with these people that seemed to know his
names and all about him, although he had never seen them before. He thought their opinion of his adventure might be interesting.
Elves know a lot and are wondrous folk for news, and know what is going on among the peoples of the land, as quick as water
flows, or quicker.
    But the dwarves were all for