The Hobbit

so sore and stiff, so bruised and buffeted
     he could hardly stand or stumble through the shallow water to lie groaning on the shore. He had a famished and a savage look
     like a dog that has been chained and forgotten in a kennel for a week. It was Thorin, but you could only have told it by his
     golden chain, and by the colour of his now dirty and tattered sky-blue hood with its tarnished silver tassel. It was some
     time before he would be even polite to the hobbit.
    “Well, are you alive or are you dead?” asked Bilbo quite crossly. Perhaps he had forgotten that he had had at least one good
     meal more than the dwarves, and also the use of his arms and legs, not to speak of a greater allowance of air. “Are you still in prison, or are you free?
     If you want food, and if you want to go on with this silly adventure—it’s yours after all and not mine—you had better slap
     your arms and rub your legs and try and help me get the others out while there is a chance!”
    Thorin of course saw the sense of this, so after a few more groans he got up and helped the hobbit as well as he could. In
     the darkness floundering in the cold water they had a difficult and very nasty job finding which were the right barrels. Knocking
     outside and calling only discovered about six dwarves that could answer. These were unpacked and helped ashore where they
     sat or lay muttering and moaning; they were so soaked and bruised and cramped that they could hardly yet realize their release
     or be properly thankful for it.
    Dwalin and Balin were two of the most unhappy, and it was no good asking them to help. Bifur and Bofur were less knocked about
     and drier, but they lay down and would do nothing. Fili and Kili, however, who were young (for dwarves) and had also been
     packed more neatly with plenty of straw into smaller casks, came out more or less smiling, with only a bruise or two and a
     stiffness that soon wore off.
    “I hope I never smell the smell of apples again!” said Fili. “My tub was full of it. To smell apples everlastingly when you
     can scarcely move and are cold and sick with hunger is maddening. I could eat anything in the wide world now, for hours on
     end—but not an apple!”
    With the willing help of Fili and Kili, Thorin and Bilbo at last discovered the remainder of the company and got them out. Poor fat Bombur was asleep or senseless; Dori, Nori,
     Ori, Oin and Gloin were waterlogged and seemed only half alive; they all had to be carried one by one and laid helpless on
     the shore.
    “Well! Here we are!” said Thorin. “And I suppose we ought to thank our stars and Mr. Baggins. I am sure he has a right to
     expect it, though I wish he could have arranged a more comfortable journey. Still—all very much at your service once more,
     Mr. Baggins. No doubt we shall feel properly grateful, when we are fed and recovered. In the meanwhile what next?”
    “I suggest Lake-town,” said Bilbo. “What else is there?”
    Nothing else could, of course, be suggested; so leaving the others Thorin and Fili and Kili and the hobbit went along the
     shore to the great bridge. There were guards at the head of it, but they were not keeping very careful watch, for it was so
     long since there had been any real need. Except for occasional squabbles about river-tolls they were friends with the Wood-elves.
     Other folk were far away; and some of the younger people in the town openly doubted the existence of any dragon in the mountain,
     and laughed at the greybeards and gammers who said that they had seen him flying in the sky in their young days. That being
     so it is not surprising that the guards were drinking and laughing by a fire in their hut, and did not hear the noise of the
     unpacking of the dwarves or the footsteps of the four scouts. Their astonishment was enormous when Thorin Oakenshield stepped in through the door.
    “Who are you and what do you want?” they shouted leaping to their feet and groping for weapons.
    “Thorin son of Thrain son of Thror King under the Mountain!” said the dwarf in a loud voice, and he looked it, in spite of
     his torn clothes and draggled hood. The gold gleamed on his neck and waist; his eyes were dark and deep. “I have come back.
     I wish to see the Master of your town!”
    Then there was tremendous excitement. Some of the more foolish ran out of the hut as if they expected the Mountain to go golden
     in the night and all the waters of the lake turn yellow right away. The