The Hobbit

And this is how Thorin began.
    “Gandalf, dwarves and Mr. Baggins! We are met together in the house of our friend and fellow conspirator, this most excellent
     and audacious hobbit—may the hair on his toes never fall out! all praise to his wine and ale!—” He paused for breath and for
     a polite remark from the hobbit, but the compliments were quite lost on poor Bilbo Baggins, who was wagging his mouth in protest
     at being called
audacious
and worst of all
fellow conspirator
, though no noise came out, he was so flummoxed. So Thorin went on:
    “We are met to discuss our plans, our ways, means, policy and devices. We shall soon before the break of day start on our
     long journey, a journey from which some of us, or perhaps all of us (except our friend and counsellor, the ingenious wizard
     Gandalf) may never return. It is a solemn moment. Our object is, I take it, well known to us all. To the estimable Mr. Baggins,
     and perhaps to one or two of the younger dwarves (I think I should be right in naming Kili and Fili, for instance), the exact
     situation at the moment may require a little brief explanation—”
    This was Thorin’s style. He was an important dwarf. If he had been allowed, he would probably have gone on like this until
     he was out of breath, without telling any one there anything that was not known already. But he was rudely interrupted. Poor
     Bilbo couldn’t bear it any longer. At
may never return
he began to feel a shriek coming up inside, and very soon it burst out like the whistle of an engine coming out of a tunnel.
     All the dwarves sprang up, knocking over the table. Gandalf struck a blue light on the end of his magic staff, and in its
     firework glare the poor little hobbit could be seen kneeling on the hearth-rug, shaking like a jelly that was melting. Then
     he fell flat on the floor, and kept on calling out “struck by lightning, struck by lightning!” over and over again; and that
     was all they could get out of him for a long time. So they took him and laid him out of the way on the drawing-room sofa with
     a drink at his elbow, and they went back to their dark business.
    “Excitable little fellow,” said Gandalf, as they sat down again. “Gets funny queer fits, but he is one of the best, one of the best—as fierce as a dragon in a pinch.”
    If you have ever seen a dragon in a pinch, you will realize that this was only poetical exaggeration applied to any hobbit,
     even to Old Took’s great-grand-uncle Bullroarer, who was so huge (for a hobbit) that he could ride a horse. He charged the
     ranks of the goblins of Mount Gram in the Battle of the Green Fields, and knocked their king Golfimbul’s head clean off with
     a wooden club. It sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit-hole, and in this way the battle was won and
     the game of Golf invented at the same moment.
    In the meanwhile, however, Bullroarer’s gentler descendant was reviving in the drawing-room. After a while and a drink he
     crept nervously to the door of the parlour. This is what he heard, Gloin speaking: “Humph!” (or some snort more or less like
     that). “Will he do, do you think? It is all very well for Gandalf to talk about this hobbit being fierce, but one shriek like
     that in a moment of excitement would be enough to wake the dragon and all his relatives, and kill the lot of us. I think it
     sounded more like fright than excitement! In fact, if it had not been for the sign on the door, I should have been sure we
     had come to the wrong house. As soon as I clapped eyes on the little fellow bobbing and puffing on the mat, I had my doubts.
     He looks more like a grocer than a burglar!”
    Then Mr. Baggins turned the handle and went in. The Took side had won. He suddenly felt he would go without bed and breakfast
     to be thought fierce. As for
little fellow bobbing on the mat
it almost made him really fierce. Many a time afterwards the Baggins part regretted what he did now, and he said to himself: “Bilbo, you were
     a fool; you walked right in and put your foot in it.”
    “Pardon me,” he said, “if I have overheard words that you were saying. I don’t pretend to understand what you are talking
     about, or your reference to burglars, but I think I am right in believing” (this is what he called being on his dignity) “that
     you think I am no good. I will show you. I have no signs on my door—it was painted a week ago—, and I am quite sure you have
     come to the