The Hobbit

wards, made of silver. “Keep it safe!”
    “Indeed I will,” said Thorin, and he fastened it upon a fine chain that hung about his neck and under his jacket. “Now things
     begin to look more hopeful. This news alters them much for the better. So far we have had no clear idea what to do. We thought
     of going East, as quiet and careful as we could, as far as the Long Lake. After that the trouble would begin—.”
    “A long time before that, if I know anything about the roads East,” interrupted Gandalf.
    “We might go from there up along the River Running,” went on Thorin taking no notice, “and so to the ruins of Dale—the old
     town in the valley there, under the shadow of the Mountain. But we none of us liked the idea of the Front Gate. The river
     runs right out of it through the great cliff at the South of the Mountain, and out of it comes the dragon too—far too often,
     unless he has changed his habits.”
    “That would be no good,” said the wizard, “not without a mighty Warrior, even a Hero. I tried to find one; but warriors are
     busy fighting one another in distant lands, and in this neighbourhood heroes are scarce, or simply not to be found. Swords
     in these parts are mostly blunt, and axes are used for trees, and shields as cradles or dish-covers; and dragons are comfortably
     far-off (and therefore legendary). That is why I settled on
burglary
—especially when I remembered the existence of a Side-door. And here is our little Bilbo Baggins,
the
burglar, the chosen and selected burglar. So now let’s get on and make some plans.”
    “Very well then,” said Thorin, “supposing the burglar-expert gives us some ideas or suggestions.” He turned with mock-politeness
     to Bilbo.
    “First I should like to know a bit more about things,” said he, feeling all confused and a bit shaky inside, but so far still
     Tookishly determined to go on with things. “I mean about the gold and the dragon, and all that, and how it got there, and
     who it belongs to, and so on and further.”
    “Bless me!” said Thorin, “haven’t you got a map? and didn’t you hear our song? and haven’t we been talking about all this
     for hours?”
    “All the same, I should like it all plain and clear,” said he obstinately, putting on his business manner (usually reserved
     for people who tried to borrow money off him), and doing his best to appear wise and prudent and professional and live up
     to Gandalf’s recommendation. “Also I should like to know about risks, out-of-pocket expenses, time required and remuneration,
     and so forth”—by which he meant: “What am I going to get out of it? and am I going to come back alive?”
    “O very well,” said Thorin. “Long ago in my grandfather Thror’s time our family was driven out of the far North, and came
     back with all their wealth and their tools to this Mountain on the map. It had been discovered by my far ancestor, Thrain
     the Old, but now they mined and they tunnelled and they made huger halls and greater workshops—and in addition I believe they
     found a good deal of gold and a great many jewels too. Anyway they grew immensely rich and famous, and my grandfather was King under the Mountain
     again, and treated with great reverence by the mortal men, who lived to the South, and were gradually spreading up the Running
     River as far as the valley overshadowed by the Mountain. They built the merry town of Dale there in those days. Kings used
     to send for our smiths, and reward even the least skillful most richly. Fathers would beg us to take their sons as apprentices,
     and pay us handsomely, especially in food-supplies, which we never bothered to grow or find for ourselves. Altogether those
     were good days for us, and the poorest of us had money to spend and to lend, and leisure to make beautiful things just for
     the fun of it, not to speak of the most marvellous and magical toys, the like of which is not to be found in the world now-a-days.
     So my grandfather’s halls became full of armour and jewels and carvings and cups, and the toy market of Dale was the wonder
     of the North.
    “Undoubtedly that was what brought the dragon. Dragons steal gold and jewels, you know, from men and elves and dwarves, wherever
     they can find them; and they guard their plunder as long as they live (which is practically for ever, unless they are killed),
     and never enjoy a brass ring of it. Indeed they hardly know a good bit of work from a bad, though