The Hobbit

what
     would happen to you, if you tried to take them into the forest.”
    “What about the horse, then?” said Thorin. “You don’t mention sending that back.”
    “I don’t, because I am not sending it.”
    “What about
your
promise then?”
    “I will look after that. I am not sending the horse back, I am riding it!”
    Then they knew that Gandalf was going to leave them at the very edge of Mirkwood, and they were in despair. But nothing they
     could say would change his mind.
    “Now we had this all out before, when we landed on the Carrock,” he said. “It is no use arguing. I have, as I told you, some
     pressing business away south; and I am already late through bothering with you people. We may meet again before all is over,
     and then again of course we may not. That depends on your luck and on your courage and sense; and I am sending Mr. Baggins
     with you. I have told you before that he has more about him than you guess, and you will find that out before long. So cheer
     up Bilbo and don’t look so glum. Cheer up Thorin and Company! This is your expedition after all. Think of the treasure at
     the end, and forget the forest and the dragon, at any rate until tomorrow morning!”
    When tomorrow morning came he still said the same. So now there was nothing left to do but to fill their water-skins at a
     clear spring they found close to the forest-gate, and unpack the ponies. They distributed the packages as fairly as they could,
     though Bilbo thought his lot was wearisomely heavy, and did not at all like the idea of trudging for miles and miles with
     all that on his back.
    “Don’t you worry!” said Thorin. “It will get lighter all too soon. Before long I expect we shall all wish our packs heavier,
     when the food begins to run short.”
    Then at last they said good-bye to their ponies and turned their heads for home. Off they trotted gaily, seeming very glad
     to put their tails towards the shadow of Mirkwood. As they went away Bilbo could have sworn that a thing like a bear left
     the shadow of the trees and shambled off quickly after them.
    Now Gandalf too said farewell. Bilbo sat on the ground feeling very unhappy and wishing he was beside the wizard on his tall
     horse. He had gone just inside the forest after breakfast (a very poor one), and it had seemed as dark in there in the morning
     as at night, and very secret: “a sort of watching and waiting feeling,” he said to himself.
    “Good-bye!” said Gandalf to Thorin. “And goodbye to you all, good-bye! Straight through the forest is your way now. Don’t
     stray off the track!—if you do, it is a thousand to one you will never find it again and never get out of Mirkwood; and then
     I don’t suppose I, or any one else, will ever see you again.”
    “Do we really have to go through?” groaned the hobbit.
    “Yes, you do!” said the wizard, “if you want to get to the other side. You must either go through or give up your quest. And
     I am not going to allow you to back out now, Mr. Baggins. I am ashamed of you for thinking of it. You have got to look after
     all these dwarves for me,” he laughed.
    “No! no!” said Bilbo. “I didn’t mean that. I meant, is there no way round?”
    “There is, if you care to go two hundred miles or so out of your way north, and twice that south. But you wouldn’t get a safe
     path even then. There are no safe paths in this part of the world. Remember you are over the Edge of the Wild now, and in
     for all sorts of fun wherever you go. Before you could get round Mirkwood in the North you would be right among the slopes
     of the Grey Mountains, and they are simply stiff with goblins, hobgoblins, and orcs of the worst description. Before you could
     get round it in the South, you would get into the land of the Necromancer; and even you, Bilbo, won’t need me to tell you
     tales of that black sorcerer. I don’t advise you to go anywhere near the places overlooked by his dark tower! Stick to the
     forest-track, keep your spirits up, hope for the best, and with a tremendous slice of luck you
may
come out one day and see the Long
    Marshes lying below you, and beyond them, high in the East, the Lonely Mountain where dear old Smaug lives, though I hope
     he is not expecting you.”
    “Very comforting you are to be sure,” growled Thorin. “Good-bye! If you won’t come with us, you had better get off without
     any more talk!”
    “Good-bye then, and really good-bye!” said Gandalf, and he