The Hobbit

particularly uncomfortable
     for you!”
    “We were on a journey to visit our relatives, our nephews and nieces, and first, second, and third cousins, and the other
     descendants of our grandfathers, who live on the East side of these truly hospitable mountains,” said Thorin, not quite knowing
     what to say all at once in a moment, when obviously the exact truth would not do at all.
    “He is a liar, O truly tremendous one!” said one of the drivers. “Several of our people were struck by lightning in the cave,
     when we invited these creatures to come below; and they are as dead as stones. Also he has not explained this!” He held out
     the sword which Thorin had worn, the sword which came from the Trolls’ lair.
    The Great Goblin gave a truly awful howl of rage when he looked at it, and all his soldiers gnashed their teeth, clashed their
     shields, and stamped. They knew the sword at once. It had killed hundreds of goblins in its time, when the fair elves of Gondolin
     hunted them in the hills or did battle before their walls. They had called it Orcrist, Goblin-cleaver, but the goblins called
     it simply Biter. They hated it and hated worse any one that carried it.
    “Murderers and elf-friends!” the Great Goblin shouted. “Slash them! Beat them! Bite them! Gnash them! Take them away to dark
     holes full of snakes, and never let them see the light again!” He was in such a rage that he jumped off his seat and himself
     rushed at Thorin with his mouth open.
    Just at that moment all the lights in the cavern went out, and the great fire went off poof! into a tower of blue glowing
     smoke, right up to the roof, that scattered piercing white sparks all among the goblins.
    The yells and yammering, croaking, jibbering and jabbering; howls, growls and curses; shrieking and skriking, that followed
     were beyond description. Several hundred wild cats and wolves being roasted slowly alive together would not have compared
     with it. The sparks were burning holes in the goblins, and the smoke that now fell from the roof made the air too thick for
     even their eyes to see through. Soon they were falling over one another and rolling in heaps on the floor, biting and kicking
     and fighting as if they had all gone mad.
    Suddenly a sword flashed in its own light. Bilbo saw it go right through the Great Goblin as he stood dumbfounded in the middle of his rage. He fell dead, and the goblin soldiers fled before the sword shrieking into the darkness.
    The sword went back into its sheath. “Follow me quick!” said a voice fierce and quiet; and before Bilbo understood what had
     happened he was trotting along again, as fast as he could trot, at the end of the line, down more dark passages with the yells
     of the goblin-hall growing fainter behind him. A pale light was leading them on.
    “Quicker, quicker!” said the voice. “The torches will soon be relit.”
    “Half a minute!” said Dori, who was at the back next to Bilbo, and a decent fellow. He made the hobbit scramble on his shoulders
     as best he could with his tied hands, and then off they all went at a run, with a clink-clink of chains, and many a stumble,
     since they had no hands to steady themselves with. Not for a long while did they stop, and by that time they must have been
     right down in the very mountain’s heart.
    Then Gandalf lit up his wand. Of course it was Gandalf; but just then they were too busy to ask how he got there. He took
     out his sword again, and again it flashed in the dark by itself. It burned with a rage that made it gleam if goblins were
     about; now it was bright as blue flame for delight in the killing of the great lord of the cave. It made no trouble whatever
     of cutting through the goblin-chains and setting all the prisoners free as quickly as possible. This sword’s name was Glamdring
     the Foe-hammer, if you remember. The goblins just called it Beater, and hated it worse than Biter if possible. Orcrist, too,
     had been saved; for
    Gandalf had brought it along as well, snatching it from one of the terrified guards. Gandalf thought of most things; and though
     he could not do everything, he could do a great deal for friends in a tight corner.
    “Are we all here?” said he, handing his sword back to Thorin with a bow. “Let me see: one—that’s Thorin; two, three, four,
     five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven; where are Fili and Kili? Here they are! twelve, thirteen—and here’s Mr. Baggins:
     fourteen! Well, well! it