The Hobbit

goblins, who only widened them and joined them up with passages, and the
     original owners are still there in odd corners, slinking and nosing about.
    Deep down here by the dark water lived old Gollum, a small slimy creature. I don’t know where he came from, nor who or what he was. He was Gollum—as dark as darkness, except for two big round pale eyes in his thin face.
     He had a little boat, and he rowed about quite quietly on the lake; for lake it was, wide and deep and deadly cold. He paddled
     it with large feet dangling over the side, but never a ripple did he make. Not he. He was looking out of his pale lamp-like
     eyes for blind fish, which he grabbed with his long fingers as quick as thinking. He liked meat too. Goblin he thought good,
     when he could get it; but he took care they never found him out. He just throttled them from behind, if they ever came down
     alone anywhere near the edge of the water, while he was prowling about. They very seldom did, for they had a feeling that
     something unpleasant was lurking down there, down at the very roots of the mountain. They had come on the lake, when they
     were tunnelling down long ago, and they found they could go no further; so there their road ended in that direction, and there
     was no reason to go that way—unless the Great Goblin sent them. Sometimes he took a fancy for fish from the lake, and sometimes
     neither goblin nor fish came back.
    Actually Gollum lived on a slimy island of rock in the middle of the lake. He was watching Bilbo now from the distance with
     his pale eyes like telescopes. Bilbo could not see him, but he was wondering a lot about Bilbo, for he could see that he was
     no goblin at all.
    Gollum got into his boat and shot off from the island, while Bilbo was sitting on the brink altogether flummoxed and at the
     end of his way and his wits. Suddenly up came Gollum and whispered and hissed:
    “Bless us and splash us, my precioussss! I guess it’s a choice feast; at least a tasty morsel it’d make us, gollum!” And when
     he said
gollum
he made a horrible swallowing noise in his throat. That is how he got his name, though he always called himself ‘my precious’.
    The hobbit jumped nearly out of his skin when the hiss came in his ears, and he suddenly saw the pale eyes sticking out at
     him.
    “Who are you?” he said, thrusting his dagger in front of him.
    “What iss he, my preciouss?” whispered Gollum (who always spoke to himself through never having anyone else to speak to).
     This is what he had come to find out, for he was not really very hungry at the moment, only curious; otherwise he would have
     grabbed first and whispered afterwards.
    “I am Mr. Bilbo Baggins. I have lost the dwarves and I have lost the wizard, and I don’t know where I am; and I don’t want
     to know, if only I can get away.”
    “What’s he got in his handses?” said Gollum, looking at the sword, which he did not quite like.
    “A sword, a blade which came out of Gondolin!” “Sssss” said Gollum, and became quite polite. “Praps ye sits here and chats
     with it a bitsy, my preciousss. It likes riddles, praps it does, does it?” He was anxious to appear friendly, at any rate
     for the moment, and until he found out more about the sword and the hobbit, whether he was quite alone really, whether he
     was good to eat, and whether Gollum was really hungry. Riddles were all he could think of. Asking them, and sometimes guessing
     them, had been the only game he had ever played with other funny creatures sitting in their holes in the long, long ago, before
     he lost all his friends and was driven away, alone, and crept down, down, into the dark under the mountains.
    “Very well,” said Bilbo, who was anxious to agree, until he found out more about the creature, whether he was quite alone,
     whether he was fierce or hungry, and whether he was a friend of the goblins.
    “You ask first,” he said, because he had not had time to think of a riddle.
    So Gollum hissed:
    What has roots as nobody sees,
    Is taller than trees,
        Up, up it goes,
        And yet never grows?
    “Easy!” said Bilbo. “Mountain, I suppose.”
    “Does it guess easy? It must have a competition with us, my preciouss! If precious asks, and it doesn’t answer, we eats it,
     my preciousss. If it asks us, and we doesn’t answer, then we does what it wants, eh? We shows it the way out, yes!”
    “All right!” said Bilbo, not daring to disagree, and nearly bursting