The Hobbit

in the distance again. Bilbo was crossing the floor of the hall.
    He went on, until he came to the great doors at the further side, and there a draught of air refreshed him, but it almost
     puffed out his light. He peeped timidly through, and caught a glimpse of great passages and of the dim beginnings of wide
     stairs going up into the gloom. And still there was no sight nor sound of Smaug. He was just going to turn and go back, when
     a black shape swooped at him, and brushed his face. He squeaked and started, stumbled backwards and fell. His torch dropped
     head downwards and went out!
    “Only a bat, I suppose and hope!” he said miserably. “But now what am I to do? Which is East, South, North, or West?”
    “Thorin! Balin! Oin! Gloin! Fili! Kili!” he cried as loud as he could—it seemed a thin little noise in the wide blackness.
     “The light’s gone out! Someone come and find me and help me!” For the moment his courage had failed altogether.
    Faintly the dwarves heard his small cries, though the only word they could catch was “help!”
    “Now what on earth or under it has happened?” said Thorin. “Certainly not the dragon, or he would not go on squeaking.”
    They waited a moment or two, and still there were no dragon-noises, no sound at all in fact but Bilbo’s distant voice. “Come,
     one of you, get another light or two!” Thorin ordered. “It seems we have got to go and help our burglar.”
    “It is about our turn to help,” said Balin, “and I am quite willing to go. Anyway I expect it is safe for the moment.”
    Gloin lit several more torches, and then they all crept out, one by one, and went along the wall as hurriedly as they could.
     It was not long before they met Bilbo himself coming back towards them. His wits had quickly returned as soon as he saw the
     twinkle of their lights.
    “Only a bat and a dropped torch, nothing worse!” he said in answer to their questions. Though they were much relieved, they
     were inclined to be grumpy at being frightened for nothing; but what they would have said, if he had told them at that moment
     about the Arkenstone, I don’t know. The mere fleeting glimpses of treasure which they had caught as they went along had rekindled
     all the fire of their dwarvish hearts; and when the heart of a dwarf, even the most respectable, is wakened by gold and by jewels, he grows suddenly bold, and he may become fierce.
    The dwarves indeed no longer needed any urging. All were now eager to explore the hall while they had the chance, and willing
     to believe that, for the present, Smaug was away from home. Each now gripped a lighted torch; and as they gazed, first on
     one side and then on another, they forgot fear and even caution. They spoke aloud, and cried out to one another, as they lifted
     old treasures from the mound or from the wall and held them in the light, caressing and fingering them.
    Fili and Kili were almost in merry mood, and finding still hanging there many golden harps strung with silver they took them
     and struck them; and being magical (and also untouched by the dragon, who had small interest in music) they were still in
     tune. The dark hall was filled with a melody that had long been silent. But most of the dwarves were more practical: they
     gathered gems and stuffed their pockets, and let what they could not carry fall back through their fingers with a sigh. Thorin
     was not least among these; but always he searched from side to side for something which he could not find. It was the Arkenstone;
     but he spoke of it yet to no one.
    Now the dwarves took down mail and weapons from the walls, and armed themselves. Royal indeed did Thorin look, clad in a coat
     of gold-plated rings, with a silver-hafted axe in a belt crusted with scarlet stones.
    “Mr. Baggins!” he cried. “Here is the first payment of your reward! Cast off your old coat and put on this!”
    With that he put on Bilbo a small coat of mail, wrought for some young elf-prince long ago. It was of silver-steel, which
     the elves call
mithril
, and with it went a belt of pearls and crystals. A light helm of figured leather, strengthened beneath with hoops of steel,
     and studded about the brim with white gems, was set upon the hobbit’s head.
    “I feel magnificent,” he thought; “but I expect I look rather absurd. How they would laugh on the Hill at home! Still I wish
     there was a looking-glass handy!”
    All the same Mr. Baggins kept his head more clear of the